Impossible

She forced him from her head, as she had for two months, as she walked into the ambassador's residence that night. With the exception of a rock star and two actors, Sasha knew everyone there. In its own way, Paris was a very small town. The whole world was these days.

At the dinner table, Sasha was seated next to one of the actors, who was completely self-involved, and had nothing to say to her. He was far more interested in the woman on his right, who was married to a Hollywood producer. He was busy charming her, and had been for an hour, when Sasha turned her attention politely to the man on her left. She knew she had seen him somewhere, and then remembered who he was. He had once been considered the wizard of Wall Street, and had since retired. Arthur had introduced her to him at a party in the Hamptons once. And much to her surprise, he remembered her.

“It must have been about ten years ago,” she said, looking impressed. He was about Arthur's age, who would have been fifty-nine by now. He had been gone for a year and a half.

“I was very impressed when we met. I've been in your gallery several times.” He smiled at her, and she noticed that he was a good-looking older man. She no longer remembered if he was widowed or divorced, and by now he could have remarried, if that was the case.

“The gallery in New York?” she asked, to keep the conversational ball rolling. She had no particular interest in him, but he was easy to talk to, far easier than the actor on her right, who had virtually ignored her. There was nothing she could do for him.

“I was speaking of the gallery here,” her dinner partner explained. “I live here now.” His name was Phillip Henshaw, and she couldn't help wondering what had brought him to Paris. He had retired young, just as Arthur had hoped to. “Both my daughters married Frenchmen and moved here. When my wife died, I decided I needed a break from New York. I've been here for five years, and I love it.” Sasha noticed then that he had a soft southern drawl, and a moment later he explained that he had been born in Louisiana. He and the ambassador had gone to the University of Virginia together. The wife of the ambassador was from Georgia. Phillip went on to explain to Sasha that he had a house in Provence, and a flat in London. He managed to get to each of those places about once a month.

“I'm going to London tomorrow, to see my son, and some artists.” She smiled easily at him.

“So am I, going to London, I mean.” He returned the smile, and then a little while later said he had been sorry to hear about Arthur. “It's not easy, finding yourself alone at our age, particularly if you've been happily married.” He touched her heart with what he said.

“That's why I moved back to Paris. It was just too depressing to stay in New York after Arthur died,” she confessed.

“Do you still have your house in the Hamptons?” He remembered that as well.

She nodded, and then sighed. “I never go there anymore. All those familiar places we used to love are just too hard.” They talked about New York for a while, and discovered they knew many people in common. The good thing about talking about her old life with him was that it kept her mind off Liam. He had distracted her constantly for the past two months. She was angry and disappointed by how things had worked out, and frustrated by the way their affair had ended, in silence. Worse yet, now she had to get over it, and act impartially as his dealer. Getting involved with him had been even more foolish than she had feared. But she wasn't devastated, as she had been over Arthur. She was just disappointed and sad, and finally philosophical about it.

She was surprised, as she left the ambassador's residence, when Phillip Henshaw asked her if she would like to have dinner with him the following night in London. She told herself that maybe she could sell him some art for his houses.