Page 77 of Meet Me at Sunset

Paris was exactly what she needed. Who wouldn’t adore living and working in the City of Light? Isobel had enjoyed brushing up on her French once more, and had made a lot of friends in the office, who invited her for after-work drinks and to the hottest parties in the capital. She couldn’t deny that she was loving the glamour. But mostly she wanted to design and create. She was overflowing with new ideas and inspiration, and she was often the first to arrive in the office and the last to leave at night.

‘In fact,’ Camille continued, ‘I was wondering how you’d feel about stepping in for me for a while … Possibly permanently … Taking charge of the atelier and leading the creative side for the new collection. You’d be fully credited of course,’ Camille added hastily. ‘We’d put out a press release. How does “interim creative director” sound?’

Isobel gasped. Her head was spinning as she tried to take in everything Camille had said. It was an incredible opportunity, but a huge responsibility at the same time. ‘I don’t understand … You’re not retiring, surely – you’re far too young.’

Camille sat back in her seat, looking levelly at Isobel, as Isobel tried to read her. Camille was fifty-one years old and had been in the business almost as long as Isobel had been alive. She was poised and elegant, driven and ambitious, and, knowing everything she had been through, Isobel had nothing but respect for her. Camille was a formidable force who had reached the very top of the fashion world. She had seen and done it all.

‘It’s time for me to take a step back – for now at least,’ Camille said thoughtfully. ‘Take life a little easier and make time for what matters. You’re hungry and passionate, I can see it in your eyes. And you’re incredibly talented. That’s exactly what the company needs – new input; someone fresh to shake it up.’

‘I mean …’ Isobel blew out the air in her cheeks. ‘It’s a yes, of course. I’m honoured. But how long for?’

‘I’m not sure yet.’

‘But where are you going?’

Camille paused, a smile spreading across her face as she spoke. ‘New York.’

Chapter 35

New York, August 2001

Nicolas was standing at the window of his corner office at American Athletics. It was on the thirty-seventh floor of the skyscraper on Madison Avenue, and the city was spread out beneath him. From here he could see Bryant Park and the Empire State Building, all the way from the East River to the World Trade Center towers in Lower Manhattan. He felt like a master of the universe up here, indisputable proof that he’d made it to the very top of his profession.

He’d been in this role for more than twenty years now and it still fired him up, giving him a reason to get out of bed in the morning. The collaboration with Camille Andre had been a smash hit, both critically and commercially. There had been rumours in the press of some backstage drama, but the details were scant and the speculation only served to fuel the public’s interest. The old saying seemed to be true – there was no such thing as bad publicity – and the collection had sold out as soon as it hit the shelves.

Yet, despite his professional triumphs, Nicolas had been plagued by a feeling of restlessness in recent weeks. A sense that he’d achieved everything he could in the corporate world, and perhaps it was time to find fulfilment elsewhere. The confirmation that Lucas was his son had changed things for Nicolas. He’d always had a sense of being alone; relationships came and went, with no one staying permanently in his life. Now he had someone he could call family, a blood tie that could never be severed. Nicolas was finally realizing that there was more to life than work, and he was eager to make up for lost time.

Turning away from the panoramic view, Nicolas tried to shake himself out of his introspective mood. He had a meeting to chair in ten minutes, and it wouldn’t do to be melancholy.

There was a knock at his door and his assistant, Erin, entered. Erin was a New Yorker born and bred. She didn’t stand for bullshit, and she guarded Nicolas’s diary like a pit bull. She’d worked for him for over a decade now, and he knew that her husband’s name was Robert, that she had two teenage sons, that she lived in Brooklyn and liked to watch the Yankees play at the weekend. Sometimes Nicolas envied her that simple life.

‘You have a message from Camille Fontaine,’ she said, holding out a piece of paper. ‘I wrote it down – she was very specific.’

Nicolas took the note and read it:

Meet me at sunset. I’ll be at Bow Bridge.

Nicolas stared at the words for a moment. ‘Erin, do I have any meetings this evening?’

‘You have dinner at Nobu with a journalist from Forbes magazine.’

Nicolas looked thoughtful. ‘Cancel it.’

The shadows were lengthening across Central Park. It had been a scorching summer’s day, but the heat was finally fading, and New Yorkers were making the most of it. There were groups of friends relaxing on the grass with picnics, teenagers listening to music, virtuous joggers panting their way around the edge of the lake, dog walkers, roller bladers, and people from all walks of life enjoying this oasis in the heart of the city.

Camille was nervous. She had dressed carefully in a chambray shirt dress, with a cream belt that accentuated her slender waist, and had added a spritz of the latest Camille Andre fragrance. The whole effect was chic and feminine, the style she knew Nicolas loved.

Right now, she was standing in the centre of Bow Bridge, an elegant cast-iron structure dating back to the Victorian era, which spanned the lake from Cherry Hill to the Ramble. Rowing boats drifted on the water, which was bordered by sprawling trees, the skyscrapers of Fifth Avenue soaring beyond. The sky was streaked with colour as the sun began to set, deep hues of pink and purple blending into fiery orange and dazzling yellow. It was going to be a spectacular one tonight.

Camille had got there early, wanting to take a moment and calm her nerves, ensuring she was there before Nicolas arrived. If he arrived.

But she needn’t have worried. A few minutes later, she saw him striding across the bridge towards her and her heart soared, her stomach doing somersaults. She felt like a teenager meeting her crush for a first date. He was wearing navy suit trousers with a tan belt, and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up in a concession to the heat. His look was formal, for the fashion industry, but Nicolas had always done things his own way, and Camille adored him for that.

After all these years she still loved him, more than she ever had. She realized now that he had always been the one. She should never have left him for Andre. They had gone their separate ways but always found their way back to one another, like two rivers flowing to the same sea. She just had to hope that he still felt the same. That it wasn’t too late.

‘Camille.’ Nicolas smiled as he approached, a warmth in his eyes as they crinkled at the corners. He stepped forwards to embrace her, and for a moment his sudden proximity took her breath away. She wanted to hold him and never let go. But it was too soon for that. Her pulse was racing, and she forced herself to calm down and behave normally.

‘I didn’t know you were in town,’ Nicolas said, and she could detect the faint frown denoting his confusion. She knew his features so well, understanding every fleeting expression, every slight nuance.