“Will you be in it?” His eyes danced as he looked at his wife, even after his long day.
“Of course.”
“Then that's all I want to recognize. How are the girls?”
“They miss you.” They hadn't seen their father in four days.
“We'll make up for lost time next week on the ship.” He smiled at Liane. “Our reservations were reconfirmed today, and”—the smile widened—“I have quite a surprise for you, chérie. The gentleman who had reserved one of the four Grand Luxe suites has had to cancel, because his wife was taken ill. Which means …” He seemed almost to be waiting for a drumroll as Liane laughed and took his arm to escort him into the dining room. “It means that as a courtesy to this tired old returning Ambassador, we are being given one of the Normandie's four most luxurious suites. Four bedrooms, a dining room of our own, if we wish to use it, which we won't. We'll be too busy enjoying the Grande Salle a Manger. But perhaps the children will enjoy having a dining room of their own and a living room with a baby grand piano. Our own promenade deck, my love, where we can sit at night, looking up at the stars …” His voice drifted off dreamily, as he was really looking forward to the crossing on the ship. For years now he had heard nothing but raves about the Normandie, and he had never been on it. Now it was an extra treat that he could give to his wife. No matter that she could have paid for all four of the Grand Luxe suites herself, he would never have let her. He had too much pride about that sort of thing, and he was happy to be able to spoil her a little, and happier still that they would have five days together, suspended between two worlds. At last he would be free of the final exhausting days at the Embassy in Washington, and he would not yet have been swallowed up by the work he was to do in France. “Isn't that good news?” His eyes danced.
“I can hardly wait.” And then she giggled as she sat down at the enormous dining table set for two. “Since we have a piano in our cabin, should I practice the piano a little before we leave? I haven't played in years.”
“Silly girl. Hmm”—he turned his attention to the odors emanating from the kitchen—“that smells awfully good.”
“Thank you, sir. Soupe de poisson for my lord and master, une omelette fines herbes, salade de cresson, Camembert, Brie, and chocolate soufflé, if the cook hasn't fallen asleep.”
“She must be ready to kill me with these hours I'm keeping.”
“Never mind, my love.” Liane smiled at him with a kiss in her eyes, and the maid came in with their soup.
“Did I tell you that we're dining at the White House tomorrow?”
“No.” But Liane was used to surprise command social engagements. She had given dinner parties for as many as a hundred people with notice of only two days.
“They called today.”
“Is the dinner for anyone important?” The soup was good, she liked their cozy dinners tête-à-tête, and like Armand, she wondered now how many moments like these they would have once they were back in France. They both suspected that he was going to be terribly busy, and she might not see much of him for a while. At least not at first.
Armand smiled at his wife. “Tomorrow night is for someone terribly important.”
“Who?”
“Us. It's just a friendly little impromptu dinner for us before we leave.” There had already been a formal farewell reception three weeks before. “Are the girls excited about the ship?”
Liane nodded. “Very.”
“They can't possibly be as excited as I am. They call her the Ship of Light.” And then he saw her smiling at him again. “Do you think me very foolish to be so excited about the trip?”
“No, I think you're very wonderful, and I love you.”
He reached out and patted her hand then. “Liane … I am a very lucky man.”
There were two butlers and a maid waiting in the entry hall to greet them, to take any wraps the ladies might have brought and to direct them upstairs to the Roosevelts' private dining room. And of course there were presidential guards stationed in the hall.
It was a considerable honor to be entertained at the White House. Liane had been here several times to lunch quietly with Eleanor and a handful of other ladies, and she was particularly pleased to be dining here tonight. Upstairs on the second floor, in their living quarters, the President and his wife were waiting, she in a simple gray crepe de chine dress from Traina-Norell and a handsome rope of pearls. There was always something unassuming about the woman. No matter who had designed her clothes or the jewels that she wore, she looked as though she might have been wearing an old dress and a sweater, sensible shoes, and a warm smile. She was the kind of woman one would have wanted to come home from school to, as there would have always been a warm welcome waiting and a gentle smile.
“Hello, Liane.” Eleanor saw her first and walked over quickly. The President was already engaged in animated conversation with the British Ambassador, Sir Ronald Lindsay, another old friend. “It's so nice to see you both.” Her smile extended to Armand, who diligently kissed her hand and then looked into her eyes.
“We shall miss you most of all, madame.”
“But not half as much as we shall miss you!” She spoke in a high-pitched, thready voice, which people made fun of often, and yet to those who knew her it had a comforting and familiar lilt. It was just another endearing aspect of Eleanor. It was difficult to find anyone who didn't love and respect her, and in the past five years Liane had been one of her most ardent fans, in spite of their recent heated exchanges over the SS St. Louis. Armand had already reminded Liane not to bring that up again tonight. She had heeded the warning in the car with an obedient nod and then a chuckle. “Am I as tactless as all that, my love?” “Never” had been the answer, but Armand had a fatherly way about him with his wife, and he often reminded her of things, as he would have the girls.
“How are the children?” Liane was quick to ask. The Roosevelts' grandchildren were always in and out of the White House.
“As naughty as ever. And the girls?”
“Excited, and wild. Every time I turn around they've unpacked their trunks to look for a favorite doll, or create some mischief.” The two women laughed. With five children of her own, Eleanor was well versed in the ways of the very young.
“I don't envy you the task of packing up! It's bad enough for us in the summer when we go to Campobello. I don't think I could ever have managed getting them all the way to France. Surely one of my children would have leaped overboard on a dare, and we'd have had to stop the ship. I shudder at the thought, but Marie-Ange and Elisabeth are much better behaved. You should have a peaceful crossing.”
“We hope so,” Armand added, and then the threesome joined the others, the British Ambassador and his wife, Lady Lindsay, the Duponts of Delaware, the ever-present Harry Hopkins, a distant cousin of Eleanor's who was in Washington for two weeks, and Russell Thompson and his wife, Maryse, a couple that Liane and Armand enjoyed a great deal and saw often. He was an attorney, closely allied to the Roosevelt Administration, and she was from Paris, and a very lively girl.