Chapter 14
Xavier didn’t have an appointment with Brigitte, and texted her from the airport in Biarritz.
He had been promising himself he would do this after the opening, and now the day had come.
He was wearing white jeans, a white shirt, a blazer, and navy alligator loafers from Hermès with his dark hair shining in the sun.
He looked like the very successful man he had become overnight.
He said he’d like to meet with her that afternoon.
It was formal and polite. It was Sunday and he knew she didn’t work on Sundays and was probably with her odious brother, whom he hoped never to see again.
He was prepared to stay at a hotel if he had to, to meet with her.
But he wasn’t leaving Paris until he saw her.
The subject of their meeting had been percolating on the back burner for five months, and was long overdue.
She responded, “What about?” right before the plane took off, and he answered with one word: “Business.” He knew she would prick her ears up at that.
She texted back immediately. “The apartment, four o’clock.”
And he answered just as quickly. “Lily Wang. Four o’clock.
” He had no intention of going back to the apartment where he had seen her and her lover having sex.
He hadn’t been back since, and didn’t intend to return to it now.
He hadn’t written to her since that day either, which had created a misconception between them.
Since she didn’t hear from him after he texted her that he considered their marriage “suspended until further notice,” she assumed that he had tacitly agreed to the affair, which was not the case.
In his eyes, the marriage was exactly what he had said, “suspended,” on pause.
To be decided later. The pause was now officially over, and he was coming back from the grave to negotiate with her.
The restaurant he had requested was popular and had a wide outdoor terrace, where she was less likely to make a scene than at the apartment.
He hadn’t told anyone he was leaving town, and wondered if anyone from the hotel was looking for him, but if so it had to wait. He had hesitated for long enough to resolve the issues between himself and Brigitte, and he didn’t want to wait another day.
He arrived at the appointed terrace ten minutes early and ordered a white wine with ice in it, which came in a big glass and quenched his thirst in the July heat.
Brigitte was ten minutes late, in jeans with holes in them, a wrinkled pink man’s shirt, and clogs.
It was her weekend doctor wear if she had a patient to see.
It was meant to give the impression that she had a weekend life too, which she didn’t, unless she had one now with Philippe, but Xavier assumed he was with his wife on weekends.
And Brigitte’s hair looked like she had cut it with a switchblade and combed it with a fork.
She looked no better than she had five months ago, climbing out of bed with her boss.
She arrived at the table and sat down before she said a word to Xavier. She didn’t mention the rave reviews of the hotel, which he was certain she would have read, gnashing her teeth and trying to guess how much she could get out of it.
“Why on a Sunday?” she said to him, and ordered a glass of red wine, which seemed heavy on a hot day.
“I’m working tomorrow, and so are you,” he said simply.
“I don’t see what’s so pressing about any ‘business’ between us. We’ve waited thirty years to end this pathetic marriage that served no purpose.”
“It legitimized our daughter,” he reminded her, “to make our parents happy, which meant something to both of us at the time. The mistake was continuing it, which made us both miserable, and is why we’re here today.
Bluntly put, five months ago, you gave me all the reason I needed to finally end this travesty of a marriage.
You have a lover. Our marriage is over, and has been for years.
All we need to decide now is how to divide the little money we have left.
We have no minor children at home. I have no income.
All we have in the bank is what’s left of the apartment money.
And you have a salary, I don’t. You have no claim on me except for a pittance every month, since I have no money.
All I have is the chateau. And if you force me to sell it, our daughter will never forgive you, so you’d be hurting her as much as me.
I put the hotel deal together with my own money after I notified you that our marriage was on pause.
And as you point out regularly, I’m a pauper now.
So other than my goodwill and my respect for our long marriage, whether a mistake or not, you’re not going to get much from me in a divorce.
I want to be fair to you though. So I came to discuss with you what I’m reasonably willing to give you. Are you still with Philippe?”
“He wants to marry me,” she said, tilting her chin up, trying to look proud and independent. She didn’t. She looked scared. The tables had turned and she knew it.
“Has he filed for divorce?” Xavier asked.
“No. He says he will at the end of the year. He still has one child left at home.”
“Do you believe him that he’ll file?” he asked her, and she shrugged.
“Sometimes. It’s a hard decision,” she said, and took a sip of her red wine.
“I know, I wrestled with it too. I can’t believe we lasted this long, no thanks to you. And just for the record, I never cheated on you.” She looked at him and frowned.
“You must be gay. We haven’t had sex in eight or ten years.”
“I stopped counting, and I’m not gay. You had me so depressed, I didn’t care.
” He got down to business then. “I’m willing to give you the rest of the money from the apartment sale.
There’s about eight hundred thousand euros left.
The chateau is Victoire’s. And I’ll keep the rental money from the chateau, since you have a salary and I don’t.
I can’t give you monthly support, I need something to live on until the hotel starts paying off, which may take a while.
And you can take all of the furnishings from the apartment that we put in storage and whatever is in boxes in the miserable litle apartment we rented.
It’s a take-it-or-leave-it offer. You’ve treated me abominably.
You should have married a doctor like Philippe.
I’ve said it for years.” He hadn’t realized how nasty she was when he married her, or predicted how bitter she’d become.
“You were right. The marriage was bearable as long as you had the big job and big salary. After that, it was unlivable,” she said bluntly.
“It was always unlivable for me,” he said quietly. “You made sure of it. Be careful you don’t do the same to Philippe. Men don’t take it well when they get castrated every day. I don’t wish you any harm, Brigitte. I just want out now. This has gone on for too long. The war is over. I quit.”
“I could fight you for the hotel money,” she said, narrowing her eyes to look at him malevolently.
“You won’t get anything. I notified you in writing that we were separated, and you make more money than I do.
I have no income.” She looked furious. It was true.
“I haven’t had a salary in three years, and I lost all our savings on the start-up you hated.
Maybe you should be paying me monthly support,” he said cheerfully, and she looked like she was going to throw something at him.
“It’s possible. The breadwinner pays the other person support.
You’re the breadwinner, I haven’t earned a penny in three years. ”
“But now you have the hotel.” Her eyes gleamed with venom and greed. She had an inexhaustible supply of both.
“You won’t get a penny of that from any court,” he said confidently.
“Think about it, Brigitte. If you want, you can fight me for everything. You won’t get much, except lawyers’ bills, but that’s up to you.
Eight hundred thousand for the apartment is a damn good settlement.
Half of that should go to me, and I’m giving it to you.
” He left the money on the table then for both their drinks, stood up, and was ready to walk away.
“I hate you,” she said through clenched teeth.