Sunset in St. Tropez Read Free Page B

feel like an Amazon beside them. But it didn't really bother her, she was brilliant, fun to be with, self-assured, and it was obvious even to her how much Robert loved her. He had told her frequently over the years that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and he meant it.
    Eric put an arm around Diana and kissed her before they sat down at the dinner table, and thanked her for what a beautiful job she'd done, as Pascale glowered across the table at John.
    “If you did that to me, I'd have a heart attack from shock,” she scolded him. “You never kiss me, and you never thank me. For anything.” But despite her frequent complaints, there was no malice in Pascale's tone.
    “Thank you, darling,” John smiled benevolently at her from his seat, “for all those wonderful frozen dinners you leave me.” He laughed in a good-natured way as he said it. She often went to dance class at night, after teaching all day, and didn't have time to cook him dinner.
    “How can you say that? I left you a cassoulet last week, and a coq au vin two days ago … You don't deserve them!!”
    “No, I don't. Besides, I cook better than you do.” He laughed at her.
    “You"re a monster!” she said, green eyes blazing at him. “And I"m not taking the bus home. I"m taking a taxi home by myself, John Donnally, and I will not allow you to ride with me!” She looked unfailingly, incredibly French. Theirs had always been a match of fire and passion.
    “I was hoping you'd say that,” he said, grinning at Diana, as she served their first course of bluepoint oysters. The six of them shared a particular fondness for seafood. She had cold lobster for the main course, then salad and cheese, in deference to Pascale, who couldn't bear to eat salad first, and always said she felt cheated when there wasn't cheese after the main course. And there was baked Alaska for dessert, which was Eric"s favorite, and the others loved it too. It was a festive meal, and a perfect evening for all six of them.
    “My God, we eat well at your house,” John said admiringly as Diana came out of the kitchen with the flaming dessert, and the assembled company applauded. “Pascale, why don't you borrow some of Diana's recipes instead of all those guts and entrails and brains and kidneys and blood sausages you feed me?”
    “You wouldn't let me spend the money if I did,” Pascale said truthfully. “Besides, you love brains and kidneys,” she said matter-offactly.
    “I lied. I'd rather eat lobster,” he said, beaming at his hostess, as Robert chuckled. The constant bickering and bantering of the Donnallys somehow amused him, even after twenty-five years of listening to it. To all of them, it seemed harmless. Their marriages were all sound, their mates reliable and constant, and their relationships surprisingly harmonious in a world that offered little harmony to most people. They all realized that they'd been blessed, not only in their mates, but in their bond of friendship to each other. Robert called them the six musketeers, and although their interests were varied and different sometimes, they nevertheless enjoyed the time they spent together.
    It was after eleven o"clock when Anne commented on the fact that both John and Eric had turned sixty that year, and it no longer made her feel quite as ancient, since she was a year older, and had hated turning sixty the year before.
    “We should do something to celebrate it,” Diana said, as they sat over coffee and John lit a cigar, since none of the others objected. It was a taste that Pascale shared with him, and occasionally she smoked one with him. It had become fashionable for women to do that in recent years, but Pascale always had, ever since they'd been married. It seemed incongruous in light of her delicate appearance.
    “What do you suggest to celebrate our turning sixty?” Eric asked his wife, with a grin. “Face-lifts for all of us? The men at least, none of
    you ladies need it,” he said, looking