Hotel Vendome

Hugues told Heloise that her mother had to go away to work, which was something that the little girl already understood at four. The story became harder to maintain when Miriam didn’t come home. And three months later, back in London with Greg Bones, Miriam told him she was filing for divorce. It had been the most devastating moment of his life, and although his demeanor with the guests was unchanged, and he was ever smiling and attentive to them, in the three years since, those who knew him well were aware that he had never been the same again. He was far more aloof, serious, deeply hurt, and withdrawn in his private moments, although he put a good face on it for his staff and guests.

Hugues had been the soul of discretion since the divorce. His assistant and some of his department heads were aware of quiet affairs he had had, occasionally with hotel guests or with well-bred or accomplished women around the city. He was one of the most sought-after bachelors in New York, invited to everything, although he rarely accepted. He preferred to keep a low profile, and keep his personal life to himself. And most of the time he was working at the hotel. The hotel came before all else for him, except for his daughter, who came first. He hadn’t had a serious relationship since Miriam left and didn’t want one. He believed that to run a hotel properly, you had to sacrifice your own life. He was always there, keeping an eye on everything, and working incredible hours, most of the time behind the scenes to ensure the smooth running of the hotel.

A month after her divorce from Hugues was final, Miriam married Greg Bones, and they had been married now for two years and had just had a baby girl six months before. Heloise had only seen her mother a few times since she left. Heloise was sad about it. And Hugues was angry at Miriam. She was too busy in her new life, too obsessed with Greg, and now their child, to tend to their daughter or even see her. Heloise and Hugues had become relics of her past. It left Hugues no other choice but to be both mother and father to their child. He never commented on it to Heloise, but he considered it a painful circumstance for them both.

At the hotel Heloise was constantly surrounded by doting surrogate mothers, at the concierge desk, in room service, the maids, the florist, the hairdresser, and the girls who worked in the spa. Everyone loved Heloise. They were no substitute for a real mother, but at least she had a happy life, adored her father, and at seven she was the princess of the Hotel Vendome. Their regular guests knew her, and once in a while brought her little gifts, and thanks to her father’s attention to her education and manners, she was both adorable and extremely polite. She wore pretty little smocked dresses, and the hairdresser did her long red hair in braids with ribbons every day before she went to school at the Lycee Francais nearby. Her father walked her to school every morning before he started work. Her mother called her once every month or two, if she remembered.

Hugues was at the front desk in the evening, as he often was when he had time away from other tasks, surveying the scene in the lobby, and greeting guests discreetly. He always knew exactly who was staying at the hotel. He checked the reservation ledgers daily, was aware of who was there, when they arrived, and when they’d be departing. And there was the familiar aura of calm in the lobby as guests were checking in. Mrs. Van Damme, a well-known aristocratic dowager, had just come in from her evening walk with her Pekingese, and Hugues walked her slowly to the elevator as he chatted with her. She had moved into one of the largest suites in the hotel the year before, and brought some of her own furniture with her, and some very important works of art. She had a son in Boston who seldom visited her, and she was extremely fond of Hugues, and Heloise had become the granddaughter she’d never had, having only grandsons, including one the same age as Heloise. She often spoke to Heloise in French, since Heloise went to the Lycee Francais, and Heloise loved to join her on her walks with her dog. They would walk slowly, and Mrs. Van Damme would tell her stories of when she was a little girl. Heloise adored her.

“Where’s Heloise?” Mrs. Van Damme asked with a warm smile, as the elevator man waited for them, and Hugues chatted with her for a few minutes. He always made time for the guests. No matter how busy he was, he never looked it.

“Doing her homework upstairs, I hope.” And if not, they both knew she was probably roaming the hotel, visiting her friends. She loved pushing the maids’ carts, and distributing the lotions and shampoos, and they always gave her spares.