The Unknown Woman Read Free Page B

evening there would be a lot of party crashers there.
    At the waiter’s suggestion, she started the meal with a shrimp cocktail and tangy red sauce.
    On the back of the menu, Kerry read a brief history of the hotel, which covered an entire city block and contained an art gallery as well as the hotel, restaurant, bar and guest rooms. The hotel had been run by RemyMarchand and his wife, Anne, until Remy’s death four years ago.
    Kerry knew the Marchand daughters were all involved with the family business. Charlotte Marchand managed the hotel. Kerry had seen her name and title on the confirmation letter for her reservation. Melanie had apparently followed in her father’s footsteps and was a chef in the restaurant. Renee Marchand was in charge of public relations, according to the hotel services booklet in her suite, and she was pretty sure the fourth Marchand sister ran the art gallery she’d visited that morning. The hotel was truly a family affair.
    The waiter, Henri, a tall, thin man with an aura of regal dignity, returned. He placed a crystal flute of sparkling wine before her.
    “From Ms. Charlotte,” he explained. “She likes to extend a special welcome to our guests on their first night in the dining room.”
    “Please thank her for me. If the rest of my visit is as lovely as the first day has been, I’ll have many wonderful memories to take home.”
    When she was alone, she sipped from the flute, smiling as the bubbles tickled her nose. Mmm, after a week of this, she just might get used to living in the lap of luxury. Champagne, two attractive men flirting with her—things were definitely looking up.
    However, after dinner, as she wound her way through cluster of people dancing, talking, and laughing in the courtyard, she became somber once more, her own solitude weighing on her spirits.
    She unlocked the door and went inside her room. The bedside lamp was on, the covers were turned down, and a china plate with a fruit knife and fork were tucked into a snowy linen napkin beside the gift basket. The champagne nestled in a silver ice bucket as promised, and two crystal flutes stood beside it.
    The empty room reminded Kerry she was alone in this very romantic city, which would have made the perfect honeymoon hideaway.
    Hot tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She sat in a wicker chair, reminiscent of plantations and rum punches, and sobbed her heart out.
    After a few minutes, feeling foolish for weeping, Kerry undressed, hung her clothes in the antique wardrobe and pulled on her pajamas.
    Over the sounds from the courtyard, she could hear a bell begin to chime the hours, then, without warning, the lights went out.
    She stood in the dark for a good two minutes, waiting for the power to come back on.
    When it didn’t, she sighed. It was becoming harder to convince herself that she was meant to have a good time on this trip. Feeling her way around the room, she found her purse and the pretty box of matches she’d picked up earlier in the day. With the illumination of a match, she managed to get the wick on the hurricane lamp burning. Luckily she knew how to operate thistype of lamp. Power outages were common occurrences in her hometown during winter blizzards.
    Spotting the champagne, she decided it was time to be daring—do something different in her life. She would soak in the claw-foot tub, using the hotel’s Parisian bath oil, until the hot water ran out.
    Before she could change her mind, she headed into the bathroom and turned on the spigots full force. Gathering up the silver champagne bucket and flute, she placed them close to the tub, then went back into the bedroom to gather the decorative candles. After opening the champagne and pouring herself a glass, she lit the candles and added the bath oil to the tub. Perfect.
    Tossing her pajamas aside, she slipped into the frothy water. Now this was living. She lifted the flute to her lips and took a sip. Delicious. She raised the glass again. And