Confessions: The Paris Mysteries Read Free Page B

above our heads, and there was table art on the ivory linens.
    I noticed everything, but my mind was in a JamesRampling death spiral, thinking over everything we had said and done, wondering again how James could have made so many promises and then abandoned me—entirely.
    Truth is, this wasn’t my first collision with the unexpected and incomprehensible. My life history is shot through with bizarre events, tricks of fate, blind alleys, rabbit holes, and bonus rounds, but yesterday I had been with someone who I thought loved me unconditionally. A
partner
.
    I thought my life had
changed
.
    And now it had changed in a totally different way. We were financially secure, and this was such a relief, I doubt my brothers even noticed that I was underwater, drowning.
    Hugo, for instance, a wildly uninhibited eater, ordered one of everything on the astonishing menu of exquisite dishes.
    He confided to our waiter, “I’m very rich.”
    Our waiter, very smooth in a black jacket, white shirt, and bow tie, laughed and suggested to Hugo that he come to the chef’s table in the kitchen, where he would be served a portion of everything he wanted.
    The rest of us stayed in our seats, and over the next hour we were served outrageous delights: caviar, steamed langoustines, guinea-fowl pie, dishes flavored with “precious herbs and spices.”
    I merely picked at the delicacies, but I forgot about James for a few exquisite moments when I tasted the OMG
wine
. A Lafon Montrachet, it only cost about
two thousand dollars a bottle
.
    “Cheers, Tandy,” said my twin brother, holding up his crystal wineglass. “I really mean it. Cheers, not tears. Please let go and enjoy this spectacular night. Nothing will ever be exactly like this again.”
    I was wrong when I said my brothers didn’t know I was suffering. Harry, sitting on my left, knew. I touched my glass to his and said, “Write me a song.”
    “I can only write what I’m feeling. And that’s happy.”
    “That could work,” I told Harry.
    Matthew was sitting to my right. Fresh out of jail after being accused of double murder—an accusation I’d had a pretty big role in disproving—he was beaming. I made the mistake of wondering out loud what it would be like to live in Paris, and in true big-brother fashion, he doggedly staked out the opposing position.
    “Tandy, you wouldn’t like it here. I’d even say you’d be miserable. You’d have to wear black all the time and diet constantly, like all Parisian women do. And have you seen the young French men? Messy. Scruffy. And they smoke. All of them.”
    “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Matty,” I growled. “And now you’re making me mad.”
    Matthew laughed and held up his hands, saying, “Don’t get mad, Tandy, please. Oh, listen up. I have an announcement.”
    As he spoke, dessert was served, and Hugo flew back to our table. Matthew clinked a silver fork against a wineglass, and when we were all staring at him over little pots of chocolate, he said, “Uncle Jacob, Tandy, little bros. My contract with the Giants has been
renewed
. So
woo-hoo
, right, guys? I’m playing football again! I’m going back to New York—”
    Hugo yelled with all the air in his lungs, “Noooooooo!”
    He got up on his chair and threw his arms around Matty’s neck. “Don’t gooooo.”
    “I’ll call you every night,” Matthew said. “I promise.”
    “You’re going right
now
?” Harry asked. “Like
tonight
?”
    “My flight takes off in three hours. I love you all. Now tell me you love me, too.”
    I was going to miss the hell out of my great, larger-than-life big brother. We told him so.
    Wow.
Something amazing just happened.
    We made Matthew cry.

Late that night, I lay sleepless,
sandwiched between goose-down blankets and silk sheets in a huge canopied bed, maybe the same bed Gram Hilda had slept in once upon a long time ago. I’d gotten past hating James Rampling and had moved halfway back to loving him again.
    I