Sins of Omission by Fern Michaels

Author:Fern Michaels [Michaels, Fern]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: History
ISBN: 9780345341204
Publisher: Ivy Books
Published: 1989-10-13T18:30:00+00:00

Mickey Fonsard, carrying her adopted son, opened the door of her chalet just as Bebe Rosen arrived at Yvette and Henri’s farm. The young girl tooted the horn of her shiny new Citroën and waved gaily, calling out to Yvette and Henri.

“I had to come to see you,” she said, rushing out of the driver’s side to hug them both. “You look wonderful, both of you. Look, even the dogs and chickens are happy to see me! Please say I can stay for lunch.”

“But, of course, you can stay for lunch, and dinner, too, if you wish. You did not tell me you were planning on a visit. I thought you wanted to stay in Mickey’s Paris house.” Yvette hoped she didn’t sound as nettled as she felt. There was going to be trouble, she could feel it. “You look wonderful, chérie. The latest fashion, I see.”

“I wanted to look nice when I got here. I went to that designer Mickey uses in Paris, Coco, and she made this up for me. She’s outrageously expensive, but have you ever seen anything so elegant?”

Yvette stared enviously at the scarlet walking suit with the fluted skirt. Mickey would have worn a white silk blouse with such an outfit, but this young lady preferred to expose her long slender neck. Her shoes, purse, and driving gloves were a deep magenta that somehow complemented the scarlet of the suit. A soft felt cloche, trimmed in matching feathers, rested on the front seat. There was no luggage that Yvette could see. She felt relieved. “What do you think of my new hairdo?” the girl continued to babble. “I had it cut and styled in England just before I left.”

“Most becoming,” Henri said, beaming. “Men love fluffy hair on a woman so they can run their fingers through it. Isn’t that so, Yvette?” He held Bebe’s arm out and showed her off to his wife.

Yvette shook her own long mop of hair in agreement. When was the last time you ran your fingers through my hair, my dear Henri? she thought to herself. She made a mental note to push Henri out of bed later for the way he was fawning over Bebe. She’d married a lecher. She said, turning to Bebe, “You look wonderful, chérie. So fashionable it makes me ache to be your age again.”

“It’s just as I remember it,” Bebe said, looking around her. “I can’t tell you how often I’ve thought about this place and you and Henri. I was hoping the dogs would remember me.” She stood back to drink in the sight of the stone farmhouse with its gabled windows and heavy oak door. The wide sills on the windows were filled with thriving colorful greenery. She peeked excitedly into the open doorway. Inside, she knew, would be hot tea and small homemade cakes with Yvette’s thick frosting, their insides gingery and fragrant. “I think this is the nicest, the most welcoming home I’ve ever been in.” She wrapped her arm around Yvette’s shoulder as they walked over the threshold.

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