Lucy Checks In

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JeanmarieknowswhyChapterOne
ArrivinginPariswasabigdeal.
Well,ofcourseitwas.Afterall,itwasfriggin’Paris.Morethanthat,Iwasalmosttomyfinaldestination.AsmuchasIwouldhavelikedtohavespentdays—weeks—exploringParisandeverysinglethingI’dreadandheardanddreamedaboutit,Ihadalifetogetto,andthatlifewasbeyondParis.
SoIboardedthetraintoRennes,restedmyheadagainsttheseat,andwaitedformysecondacttobegin.
Wewerefamousforthat,weren’twe?Women,Imean.Webelievedinthesecondact,thenextgreatthing,themomentwhenfortuneswouldchangeforthebetter.Wereinventedourselvesallthetime.Imyselfhadn’tdoneitbefore,butthatdidn’tmeanthatIdidn’tbelieveitwasallpossibleandthatIcouldn’tstartoverwithanewliferightnow.AndIwasn’tactuallyreinventingmywholelife.Iwasmoreorlessscalingback.Alessresponsiblejob,asmallerplacetocallhome,amoreremovedsetofacquaintances.
LuciaGianettiLite
I’dspentweeksthinkingaboutthesenextfewhours,andIhadprettymuchperfectedtheentirescenarioinmymind.Theyweresendingacartomeetmeatthetrainstation.Somethingsleekandshiny,nodoubt.OrmaybeaclassicBentley.Thatwouldbeanicetouch.Iwouldrollthroughthesummercountryside,pastfieldsoflavender—wait,thatwasProvence,nevermind—untilpullingintotheshadeddriveleadingtoHotelParadis.
Icouldn’tdecideifthehotelwasgoingtobeaDisney-esquebuildingwithturretsandbalconies,orsomethingsquarerandmoresubstantial,likeHighclereCastle,butsmaller.Eitherway,thedevotedstaffwouldgreetme,andI’dwalkthroughthehigh-ceilingedfronthallway,pastpricelessantiquesandlife-sizeportraitsofafamilywhohadrunHotelParadisforovertwohundredyears,andintomynewdomain.
Mynextbigadventure.
Ijerkedmyeyesopen.Ididn’twanttosleepawaythetrainride.Ididn’twanttomissasinglebitoftheexquisitescenery,especiallynottheratherdelicious-lookinggentlemanacrosstheaislefromme,wearingperfectlysnugjeansandreadingabatteredpaperback.
Didpeoplestillreadbookshere?Paradiseindeed.
Ipulledoutmyphoneandansweredaflurryoftextsthathadcomeinsincedeplaning.
Tomyfather:Yes,arrivedsafeonmywaynow.
Iwastouchedbyhisconcern,butlet’sfaceit,thatwashisjob.
Tomybestfriend:OnthetraintoRennes.HotFrenchmanalertalready.IcannotWAITuntilyouvisit.
JuliaandIhadbeentoEngland,Spain,andGreecetogether.WehadsomehowmissedFranceentirely,althoughshehadbeennumeroustimes,butnow…
TomyobnoxiousbrotherFrank:OfcoursetheFBIknowsIleft—Ineededtheirpermissionyouidiot.
OhmyGod.Frankkneweverysordiddetailofthewholescandal.MorethanIdid,Iwassure.Hewasthekindofguywhoreveledinotherpeople’smisfortunes,andtohavesuchaglorioustakedowninvolvinghisownsisterwasprobablysomethinghewouldclingtofortherestofhislife.
TomylessobnoxiousbrotherJoe:Yes,I’msafe.TellMimiandCaraI’llsendpictures.
Mimiwasmynine-year-oldniece,Camille.Carawashertwinsister,Caroline,andtheyweretheonlymembersofmyfamilyIwasreallygoingtomiss.
Itwasn’tthatIdidn’tlovemyfamily.Idid.ButIhadbeenfocusedonacareerthattheyhadneverapprovedof,andthemoresuccessfulIbecame,thelargerandhigherthedisapprovalratingbecame.I’dlivedatTheFieldingHotelforeightyears,workingtwelvehoursaday,oftensevendaysaweek.Thatkindofcommitmenttoajobdidn’tleavemuchroomforacommitmenttoanythingelse.Sincemyfamilyneverexpressedanythingbutdisapprovalatmylifechoices,itbecameeasyfor
Iglancedatmywatch.I’dtakenthefasttraintoRennesandhadnappedawaythefirsthalfhour.Justabitoveranhourleft…Maybetimeforadrink?
Iwalkedthroughafewtraincarstothebarcar.Yes,justlikeinthemovies,therewasasmilingmanbehindaminiaturebarsetup.IspokeslowlybecausemyFrenchwasrusty.I’dstudiedthelanguageinhighschooland,later,college.BeforeI’dbeenatTheFielding,IspentthreeyearsinQuebecattheSaint-MichelHotel,whereIspokeFrench
Isatonthebenchthatranacrossthelengthofthecarandgazedoutthewindow.Rollingcountryside.Scatteredfarms.WindturbinesspinninginthegoldenFrenchsunshine.Ifeltasenseofpeace,andIfinallyletmyselfbreathe.Thepastwaspast.Iwasonanewpath.Ievenhadacontract,signedandsafelystashedinmycarry-on,promisingamonthlysalary,aplacetolive,andtheguaranteeofsixmonths’employmentasmanagerofthecenturies-old,family-ownedHotelParadisbeginningtoday,March1.
I’dbeenhomelessandunemployedforalmosttwoyears.Well,nottechnicallyhomeless.I’dbeenlivingwithmyparents,andithadnotbeenahappyarrangement.Mymotherneverapprovedofmyhavingacareerthatkeptmefrombeinghappilymarriedwithlotsofchildren,andshe’dvoicedherdispleasureeverytimeI’dpaidavisithome.Havingmelivefull-timeinthesamehouseallowedhertovoicethatsamedispleasureatleastonceaweek.
Icouldseeherpoint.Havingtomovebackintomychildhoodbedroom—stillremarkablyunchangedafteralmostthirtyyears—whileincareerdisgraceandfinancialruinwasnotwhatanyparentwantedfortheirchild.Theywerebothoverseventyandhadbeenquietlylivingouttheirgoldenyearsgrowingtomatoesandcoddlingthegranddaughterstheirsonshadsograciouslygiventhem.Thelastthingtheywantedwasabrokeanddepressedfortysomethingmopingaroundeveryday,onlyleavingthehousetogivedepositionsandappearincourt.
TheFieldingHotelscandalhadbeenhuge.Howoftendoesahandsomeandfamousownerofaglamoroushotelmakeoffwithseveralmilliondollarsofmostlyotherpeople’smoneyanddropoffthefaceoftheearth?Asthegeneralmanagerofthehotel,theoneleftholdingthebag,sotospeak,mynameappearedinnewspapers,online,evenonthenightlynewsformonthsonend.ThefactthatIhadeventuallybeenfoundentirelyblamelesshadbeenmentionedonce,inpassing,andthenignoredbyprettymuchtheentireworld.
TheneighborhoodwhereIgrewuphadnotchangedsomuchthatmymovingbackhadgoneunnoticed.OldfamiliarnamesandfacesshooktheirheadsasIpassed.PoorLucy—notonlyunmarriedandforcedtolivebackwithagingSophiaandBruno,butprobablygoingtoprisonfortherestofherlifetoboot.
ButIdidn’tgotoprison.MylawyerstookeverysinglepennyI’dmanagedtosavethroughoutmyentirelife,buttheFBIfinallydroppeditscaseagainstme.TonyFieldinghadalsoleftmillionsindebt,butmylawyerstookcareofthoselawsuitsaswell,andIwascompletelyexoneratedintheend.AlthoughmynamewasmudinthehotelindustryintheUS,Francehadnothadthesameattitude.AndhereIwas.
IknewhowluckyIwas.Iwasnotgoingtotakethisgiftlightly.
Ifinishedmywine,thoughtaboutasecondglass,decidedno,andwentbacktomyseat.Thebook-readinggentlemandidnotevenglanceupasIsatbackdown.Well,I’dgottenusedtothat.Onceuponatime,IturnedheadseverytimeIenteredaroom.TheFieldinghadasmallbutveryhigh-techfitnesscenter,andIranninemilesonthetreadmilleverydayforeightyears.Ihadalsohadastandingweeklyappointmentforamani-pediandamonthlyhaircut-and-colorattheverychichisalonthreeblocksaway.
Butthathadbeenalifetimeago,whenIhadthemoneyandthetimeandinclination.Forthepasttwoyears,myonlymotivationforleavingmybedroomhadbeentoappearincourtorforyetanotherinterviewwithoneofthemanylawenforcementagenciesthathadbecomesointenselyinvolvedinmylife.ThentherewereallthoseItaliancookiesfromtheneighborhoodbakerythatIbecameveryfondof,tothetuneofthreeorfourboxesaweek.GodknowsIdidn’thavemuchmoney,butwhatIdidhave,Ispentwisely.
Icheckedmywatchagain.Justtwentymoreminutes.
Iwasgoingtolovethisnewlife.
Emergingfromthetrainwiththreelargesuitcases,acarry-on,andapurserequiredassistancefromtwoportersandacompletestranger.Everythingwaspiledontoacartandrolledoutofthestationtothesidewalkwhere,Iassumed,thedriverofthelimo/towncar/Bentleywouldtakethingsfromthere.
Buttherewasn’talimo/towncar/Bentley.Therewas,instead,ashabbyVolvowithahand-drawnsignthatreadHotelParadisinthefrontwindow.Thedriverwasslouchedinthefrontseat,acigarettedanglingfromhismustachedlip,readinganewspaper.
“Hello,”IcalledinEnglish,waving.
Hedidn’tlookup.
IwentovertotheVolvo,rappedonthewindow,andswitchedtoFrench.“AreyoufromHotelParadis?”Helookedupfromhisnewspaper,liftedhisshouldersinavisiblesigh,andgotout.Hetookalookatmyluggageandbegantomumbleunderhisbreath.Icouldn’thearhimbuteasilyunderstoodhismood.Hewasnotpleased.Hethrewallmysuitcasesintothetrunkandslammeditshut,thenwalkedbacktothedriver’ssideofthecarandgotin.
Oh.
Iopenedthebackcardoorandslidin.Thecarsmelledofcigarettes,evergreen,andcheese.Isawthefamiliarpine-tree-shapedairfreshenerhangingfromtherearviewmirror.Itappearedtobeveryold,fadedtogray,butobviouslystillpumpingoutanobnoxious,not-quite-pine-treescent.
“Merci,”Isaidtohim.
Hegrunted,startedthecar,andpulledawayfromthecurb.
Wedroveawayfromthestation,andIlookedoutontothecity.Itwasmodern,withtall,sleekbuildingsofgraystonenexttoequallyimpressivestructuresthatdatedbackcenturies.
“Isthehotelfar?”Iasked.IspokeagaininFrench.DidhespeakEnglish?Itdidn’tmatter.Ineededtogetbacktospeed,andquickly.
HeshruggedandansweredinFrench,“No.JustintheOldCity.”
Ah.Ihadassumedittobeoutofthecity,nestledinthecountryside,butitcertainlymademoresenseforahoteltobeclosetothecenterofthings.ThechateauinmymindwasquicklyreplacedbysomethingmoreresemblingthePlazainNewYork—grandfrontdoorsopeningontoabustlingsidewalk—butonamuchmoremodestscale.
Icouldlivewiththat.Afterall,TheFieldingHotelhadbeenrightintheheartofthecity,alltwohundredandtwelveroomsofit,alongwiththebar,tworestaurants,andfourmeetingrooms,which,onceopenedup,couldhandleanylavisheventwithuptofourhundredguests.
HotelParadiscouldonlyaccommodateuptofortyguests.Therewasnobar,butbreakfastwouldbeservedinthesalon.Astepdown,tobesure,butatiny,boutiquehoteldeservedthesamelevelofservice,andIwasuptothetask.
Weturnedacorner,andIknewimmediatelyIwasintheOldCity.Modernbuildingsofgrayandglassandsmoothpavementwerereplacedbytimberframesandcobblestones.Thestreetswerenarrow,andcafétablescrowdedtheunevensidewalks.Everythingwassoold.IcouldfeelitandstaredinwonderataTommyHilfigershopdisplayingitsclothesinwindowssetintoastorefrontthatdatedbackcenturies.
IhadneverdrivenacarinNewYorkCityinalltheyearsIhadlivedthere.IcouldtellthatI’dprobablyneverdriveacarinRennes,either.Iftherewasaspeedlimit,mydriverignoredit.Ifpedestrianshadtherightofway,theyhadtofightforit.Andwhere,exactly,werethestopsigns?
Hesuddenlymadeasharpturn,pulledupontothecurbjustatthecorner,threwtheVolvointoPark,andgotout.Icautiouslyopenedthedoor.
Thestreetwasnarrowwithtalltreesshadingthecobblestones.Stoneandtimber-framedbuildingshuggedthestreetasitcurvedawaytotheleft.Acaféacrossfrommehadabrightredawningandtablescrowdedagainstthetallwindows,andthesmellofgarlicandroastedmeatmademesuddenlyrememberIhadn’teateninhours.Thedriverhadstackedmysuitcasesonthesidewalkandslammedthetrunk.Ihurriedovertofumbleinmypurseformoney,buthewavedmeaway.Hewentuptoasetofirongateswithakeypadsetintothewall.Hehitafewnumbers,andIheardadistinctiveclick.Hegavemeaquicksalute,gotinhiscar,anddroveoff.
Ilookedupattheirongatesinfrontofme.Theyweresetintoahighstonewallthatstretchedfromthecorner,wherewehadturnedin,toaroundthecurveintheroad.Abovethegates,inrustedletters,werethewordsHotelParadis
Islowlypushedthegateopenandsteppedforward.
Iwasstandinginalargecourtyard,surroundedbythewall.Directlyinfrontofmewasthehotel,largeandquitegrand,threestorieshigh,andmadeofgraystone.Thefrontdoorswerearchedandelaboratelycarved.Thefacadewasperfectlysymmetrical,withsixtallwindowsoneithersideoftheentrance,thepatternrepeatedonthesecondfloor.Theatticwasslate,pepperedwithdormersandchimneystacks.Therewerelargecast-ironplanterslinedupbetweenthewindows,buttheywereemptyofanyflowersorgreenery.
Onboththeleftandrightsidesofthecourtyardwerelowbuildingsthatlookedliketheyhadoncebeenstables.Thestonewasneatlycut,andontheleft,thestablerowlookedmorecarefullytended,withmultipaneddoorsandwindowswherethedoorstothestallsoncehadbeen.Thewoodendoorswerepaintedblue,andbehindthelargewindows,Icouldseepalecurtains.Thebuildingontherightlookedrougher,withoutmoderndoorsandwindows,butinsteadwiththeoriginalwidestabledoors,padlockedshut.
Iwalkedslowlyforward.IfeltjustlikeJulieAndrewsinTheSoundofMusic,aloneinfrontofthevonTrappmansionforthefirsttime.TheplacewasasbigasI’dimagined.I’dgoogled“Frenchhotels”and“Frenchhotelhistory”andfoundwholePinterestboardsdevotedtodrawingsandfloorplans.Ihad,ofcourse,picturedtheminadifferentsetting,butthebuildingitselfdidnotdisappoint.Itscondition,though…Werepeopleevenlivinghere?ShouldIjustwalkin?Wastheresomesortofdoorbell?
ThecloserIgot,themoreobvioustheneglectbecame.Rippedfabrichungbehindcrackedglass,thepaintaroundthewindowsanddoorswaschippedandfaded,dirtandleavespiledupagainstthefoundation.Therewasawhitecatcurledup,asleep,inoneofthecast-ironplanters.Theplacewassilent.
Thedoublefrontdoorswereatleasttenfeettall,andtherewasalargedoorknockerinthecenterofeach,afleur-de-lisofpittedbrass.DidIknock?AndifIdid,whowouldanswer?Asilenthunchback?Atall,sneeringwomandressedinblack?Anancientretainerwithalimp?
AsIstoodthere,tryingtodecideifIshouldjustturnaroundandgetthehellouttaDodge,Iheardaman’svoice.
“CanIhelpyou?”Hecameoutofoneofthedoorsalongthestablerow.Hisvoicewaslow-pitched,andhesoundedBritish.VeryBritish.HughGrantBritish.
“I’mlookingfortheowner.ClaudineCapu?on?”Isaid.“Isshehere?”Iglancedovermyshoulder,unsureaboutallmyearthlypossessionssittingonthesidewalkontheothersideofthewall.
“AreyouLucia?We’vebeenwaitingforyou.”Hewastallandratherthin,inwrinkledkhakipantsandadenimshirt.“DidGeorgesjustdropyouhere?Where’syourluggage?God,he’ssorude.”
Hehurriedoutontothestreet.Ittookhimthreetripstobringmysuitcasesintothecourtyard.Obviously,hewasn’tasusedtothrowingluggagearoundasGeorgeshadbeen.
“Where’sClaudine?”Iasked.Mythroatwassuddenlyclosedasallmyhighhopesandgreatexpectationsbegantoslipaway.Ihadenvisionedaluxuryboutiquehotelthatjustneededafewnudgestobringitfullswingintothehigh-tech,find-on-the-internetworldofhospitalityinthetwenty-firstcentury.Thisplacelookedlikeithadn’tmadeitmuchpastthe1800s.
“I’mColin,bytheway.ColinHarding.Ilivehere.”Heheldouthishand,andIshookit,numb.
“Livehere?Doyouworkatthehotel?”
“What?Oh,no.Ijustlivehere.Full-time.Sixofusdo,notcountingClaudine.You’llmeeteveryonesoonenough,Iexpect.Well,let’sgetyourthingsintoyourappart.”
Hegrabbedthehandleofthelargestsuitcaseandbegantodragitacrossthecourtyard,downtowardthestablerow.
“Appart?”Itookholdofanothersuitcaseandfollowedhim.“IwastoldI’dhavethemanager’sapartment.”
“Yes,well,apartment.Hereit’sanappartementAppartforshort.Youcancallitthat.”Hestoppedatacloseddoorinthemiddleoftherowandpusheditopenwithhisfoot.“Youmusthavepackedupyourentirelifeinthissuitcase.Itweighsaton.Didyouhavetopaytheairlineextra?Ibetyoudid.”Hedroppeditwithaflourish.“Well,hereyouare.Lookaround,andI’llbebackwiththerestofyourstuff.”
Thespacewasnarrowanddeep,theonlylightcominginfromtheglasspanesofthedoorway.Idroppedthesuitcaseandcarry-ontothefloorandclutchedmypursetomychest.Theroomwasabouttenfeetwideandmaybetwiceasdeep,withsmoothplasterwallsthathadbeenpaintedacreamywhite.Thefloorwaswide-plank,verydarkandveryoldwood,theceilinglowwithblackened,exposedbeams.Atthefarend,smallpanedwindowsweresethighonthewall,andbelowthemwaswhatIassumedtobeakitchen:awhitefarmer’ssinkproppeduponfourelaboratelycarvedlegsandatinystovewithanoventhatlookedjustaboutrightforbakingonesmallcake.Asinglelightfixture,possiblybrass,hungoverthesink.Theroomwasemptyoffurnitureexceptforatablepushedagainstthewallandtwowoodenchairs.Irealizeditwasprobablymyimagination,butIcouldhavesworntheplacesmelledofhorse.
Itookafewstepsin.Therewasanopenarchwaycutthroughthefoot-thickwallstothenextroom,thebedroom.Therewasanironbedsteadnearthefloor-to-ceilingwindowspiledhighwithpillows,foldedsheets,andafadedquilt.Therewasalsoatallwardrobe,andwhenIopenedit,Isawthatthiswasmyclosetspace.Therewasastandinglampbythebed,butnodresser.Thebathroomwastuckedintotheback,withthesamerowofhigh-setwindows,aclaw-foottub,atoilet,andasink,allscrubbedcleanandsmellingfaintlyoflemon.
AtTheFielding,I’dhadasuiteofroomsonthetopfloor.Wenevercalleditthepenthouse.Thattermhadbeenreservedfortheguestsuitesonthetopfloor.Tworoomsandabath,justlikethis,butoverlookingFifty-secondStreet.IfI’dfacednorth,IcouldseeCentralPark.Floor-to-ceilingwindowsletintheview,thebathroomhadawalk-inshowerthesizeofmostpeople’scars,andsomeonecameineverydaytocleantheplaceupandrefreshthevasesofcutflowers.
Ihad,intheeightyearsI’dlivedatTheFielding,replacedmostofthestandard-issuehotelfurniture(notthatitwasinanywayshabby—oh,no,theyweretop-of-linefurnishings)withmyown,preferredstyleofdecoration:antiquesinsoftwoods,watercolorsonthewalls,gleamingbrassandcopperreflectingtheglowofneoncomingfromthestreetbelow.WhentheFBIclosedin,everysingleiteminthehotelwasconsideredevidence,andaftereighteenmonthsincourt,theonlythingsIcouldclaimasmypossessionsweretheclothesintheclosetandpersonalphotographsIcouldprovewereoffamilymembers.
Notetoself:Savethereceiptsforeverything
So,whenColinhadjokedaboutmyentirelifebeinginmysuitcases,he’dbeenright.
AshecamethroughthefrontwiththeothersuitcasefulloftheonlythingsIlegallyownedintheworld,Iturnedtohim,tryingtokeepthepanicoutofmyvoice.“ThisiswhereI’msupposedtolive?”
Ididn’tdoaverygoodjobinthequelling-panicdepartment,becausehisfacetwisted.
“Oh,now,really.It’snottooterrible.It’sverycomfortableinthesummer.Thethickwallskeeptheplacecool,andit’seasytoheatinthewinter.Iknowitlooksabitsmall,butyoureallywon’tbespendingmuchtimehere,right?You’llbeatthehotelmostofthetime,tendingtotherooms,and—”
“What?Whatdoyoumean?”Iaskedslowly.“Tendingtotherooms?I’mthemanager.Where’sClaudine?Ithinkthere’sbeensomethingofamisunderstandingsomewhere.”
“Claudineisatwork.She’llbehomearoundsix.That’s…”Heglancedathiswatch.“Threehours.Listen,wouldyoulikesomethingtoeat?Stavrosacrossthestreethasexcellentfood,andIshould,well,maybeIshouldexplainafewthingstoyou.”
Isteppedoutintothecourtyardandlookedupatthehotel.“Howmanyguestsrightnow?”
“Now?Well,justthesixofus.”
“Youmeanthesixofyouwholivehere?Aretherenopayingguests?”
Hedrewhimselfup.“Weareallpayingguests.”
“Yes.Ofcourse.Imeant…transientguests?”
“None.Wecouldn’taccommodateastraycatrightnow.Besides,nooneknowswhoweareyet.Youcan’tevengoogleus.That’swhyyou’rehere,right?Toputusonthetouristmap?”
“Butthisisahotel?”
“Yes.Forovertwohundredyears,butsincethewar,it’sjustbeen,well,this.”
“Since…thewar?Youmean,like,sincetheforties?”
“Thelatethirties.Lucia,howaboutsomefood?Andwine.Ibetyoucouldreallyuseaglassofwine.Itwillmakeyoufeelsomuchbetter.”
“Yes.Andit’sLucy.Please.”Ifollowedhimacrossthecourtyard,throughthelargemetalgate,andacrossthecobblestones,thinkingtherewasnotenoughwineintheworld.
Sittingdownatthewindow,thesunblockedbythebrightredawningwithaglassofwineinfrontofme,Ididfeelsomuchbetter.Itwaspossiblethat,somehow,IhadgottenthewrongideaofwhattheHotelParadiswasandwhereitwantedtogo,butIwassureeverythingwasjustaslightmisunderstanding.IsippedthewinewhileColinspoketothesmilingwaiter.HisFrenchwasfluent,buteventomyuntutoredear,hisaccentwasatrocious.
Thewinesliddownmythroatlikehoney,smoothandsoothing.Iclosedmyeyesandtookabiggersip.Well,gulp.WhenIopenedmyeyes,Colinwaslookingatmeintently.
“Makesallthedifferenceintheworld,doesn’tit?”Hewasanattractivemanwithathinface,wrinklesaroundhisbrightblueeyes,andfairhairthatfloppedacrosshisforehead.
Inodded.“Yes.Thankyou.Youseemtoknowanawfullotaboutwhat’ssupposedtobegoingonwithmeandClaudine.”
“Well,yes.Ididallthecorrespondence,yousee.Claudinedoesn’tspeakEnglish.”
Itiltedmyhead.“Shedoesn’tspeakEnglish?Atall?”
Henodded.“Sheunderstandsabit.Well,sheunderstandsalot,butasforactuallyspeaking,nottomentionreadingandwriting,no.Englishisaverycomplicatedlanguage.”
“ButIthoughtthatinEurope,everyonespokeeverything.Oralmost.”
Hespokereasonably.“ShespeaksSpanish,Russian,Croatian,andPortuguese.SheunderstandsabitofItalianandEnglish.Howmanylanguagesdoyouspeak?”
Touché.“Italian.French.AndalittleSpanish.”Italianbecausethatwaswhatmyparentsspokeathome.MyverylittleSpanishwasahybridlearnedovertheyearsfrommyCentralAmericanhousekeepingstaffandCubankitchenworkers.“ShespeaksnoEnglish.Well.So,youwrotealltheemails?Andthecontract?”
“Notthecontract.Shehadthelawyerdothat.Butasfortheemails…yes,Isentthem.Claudine’swords,ofcourse.”Heshruggedagainandsmiled.
“But…”Thoseemailshadsoldmeontakingthejob.True,ithadbeentheonlyofferofemploymentI’dgottensincemyratherabruptanddisgracefuldeparturefromFieldingHospitalityEnterprisesInc.“ThisisnotwhatIexpected.”
“Andwhatdidyouexpect?”
ShouldImentionthechateauandBentley?MymindcircledbacktothatveryfirstemailintroducingmetoHotelParadisandthecityofRennes.“Hasitreallybeenfamily-ownedforcenturies?”
Henodded.“Yes.ThePerrotfamily.Afirewipedouthalfthecityinthe1720s,andtheestateburnedtotheground.Thehousewasrebuiltaround1740.Intheearly1800s,itwasdecidedtoconverttheplacetoahotel.Theremodeltookalmostfiveyears,Ibelieve.Thestableswerebuiltaboutthesametime.Theywereconvertedtoflatsinthetwenties.Forthestaff.”
“Isthatwhereyoualllivenow?Youfull-timers?”
Henodded.“Yes.Andwe’llcontinuetostaythere.Theonlyroomsthataregoingtoberentedoutareinthehotelproper.Ihopeyouhavelotsofideas.”
Ididhaveideas.Tonsofthem.Mostofthemwereaboutnoodlingaroundonabrand-newwebsiteanduploadingphotographsofgrand,beautifulroomsfilledwithantiquebedsandgauzywhitecurtainsframingapastoralview.“Aboutthoserooms.Intheactualhotel.Howmanyofthosearerentable?”
“Youmean,rightnow?Noneofthem.UnlessyoucanconvinceClaudinetogiveupherrooms.Bingislivingintheattic,sothat’sprettywellfurnished,butgettinghimtomovewouldrequireanactofGod.”
Asteamingbowlofsoupwasplacedinfrontofmewithbitsofpotatoandleekswimminginapale,creamybroth.Abasketofbreadappeared,andasthewaiterwithdrewhishand,Igrabbedit.“Morewine,please?”Istaredatthesoup,tryingtofindsomethingpositivetolatchonto.“Bing?”
“DavidBingham.Ratherabrashsortoffellow.He’sawriter,kids’stuff.Beenlivingheresincethenineties.HeandClaudinehaveahistory.…Ah,Stavros,excellentsoup,asalways.ThisisLucyGianetti.She’stheonewho’sgoingtoturnthehotelaround.Lucy,thisisStavrosCollard.Heownsthiscaféandisalsoapartnerinthehotel.”
IstaredatColin.“Apartner?”
“Well,ofcourse.Claudinehadtoraisethemoneysomehow.Stavrosisapartner,asisGeorges.Theynotonlyputupcash,theyarepartoftheenterprise.Georgeswillprovideallthetransportationforgueststoandfromthetrainstation.Stavrosherewilloverseethehotelkitchen.”
Ilookedup.
StavrosCollardwastall,welloversixfeet,withbroadshouldersandmusculararmspracticallyburstingoutofapaleblueT-shirt.Hishairwasthickandcurledaroundhisheadlikelamb’swool,grayandwiry.“Weareallcountingonyou,”hesaidinperfectEnglishwithbarelyanaccent.“Wehaveputourhopesinthehotel,andAndreassuredusthatyouweretheonetoturntheoldbeautyaroundforus.”
“It’sapleasure,Mr.Collard.”
Hetookmyhandandsqueezedbriefly.“Stavros.Please.Afterall,wewillbeseeingeachothereveryday,no?UnlessyouwanttoshareyourmealswithClaudine,andIcantellyou,foraFrenchwomansheisaterriblecook.No,youwilleathere,andwewillbecomefriends.”Histeethweresmallandevenashesmiled.
“Ofcourse,”Isaidfaintly.Hebobbedhisheadandbackedaway,andIlookeddownatmysoupagain.Itookaspoonful,thenanother.Itwasdelicious,andIfoundmystrengthgrowingwitheveryswallow.
“ByAndre,didhemeanAndreMollner?”Iasked.
Colinnodded.
AndreMollnerhadbeenalong-standingclientofmylawyer’s,andthat’showhe’dgottenmynumber.He’dcalledmeoutofnowhereandintroducedhimselfbysayingthathe’dfoundtheperfectjobforme.ThemaninsistedthatnooneinRennescaredaboutwhathappenedatTheFieldingandthatIwouldbewelcomedwithopenarms.
Well,naturallythey’dwelcomeme.Iwasprobablytheonlyonetheycouldfindwhowouldtakeajobatahotelwithouteversettingfootontheproperty,becauseifIhad…
“Okay,Colin.I’mcurious.Whydidyouhireme?Exactly?”
“Well,tobehonest,wealmostdidn’t.HereinEurope,tohiresomeonewhoisnotacitizenoftheEUforajob…well,youneedaverygoodreason.ButClaudinewantedsomeonewhoknewtheAmericanmarket,whowouldknowwhattosayanddotoattractAmericantourists.AndsomeonewhocoulddesignawebsitethatcateredtoAmericantastes.Shealsowantedsomeonewhodidnothaveanaccent,sinceshespokenoEnglishatall.Hiringyouwasalotofwork.WewereluckythatAndrerecommendedyou.Heknewofyour,ah,situation,and,well…”
“AndthatIcouldn’tfindadecentjobanywhereintheUS,soIhadtotakewhatevercrumbsgotthrownmyway?”
“Nonsense.AndretoldusyouhadbeencompletelyinnocentintheFieldingmatter.HealsoinsistedthatyouhadbeenresponsibleformakingTheFieldingHotelthetalkofNewYorkCity.Whywouldn’twewantthatkindofexpertisehere?”
Man,hewasgood.“ClaudineknewAndrehow?”
“Ihavenoidea.Thewomanhasrelationsallovertheworld.Secondcousin?Onherex-husband’sside?”
“Andalltheinvestorsyoumentioned…StavrosandGeorges?”IaskedColin
“Yes.Also,Bingputupsomemoney.SodidI,forthatmatter.AndRaoul,heisacarpenter.Hedidn’tputupanycash,buthewillbedoingtherenovationsforus.”
Iatemoresoup.“Isee.Youmadeitsoundliketherewereacoupleofbillionaireswhoneededabitofsomethingtodabbleinduringtheirsparetime.”AndIhadenvisionedhavingcocktailswiththosesameFrenchbillionaires,sippingamartinionaterrace.Instead,I’dbeeatingsoupandgettingfreeridesinaVolvo.
“Youalsosaid—”
“Claudinesaid,”Colincorrected.“Ijusttranslated,remember?”
Ilookedathim.“Butwhatyoutranslatedwasn’tthetruth.”
Hedrewback,lookinghurtandsurprised.“Ofcourseitwasthetruth.IdareyoutofindonewordIwrotethatwasn’tonehundredpercenttrue.Goon.”
IknewifIopenedmylaptopthatveryminuteandwentthrougheveryoneofthetwenty-sevenemailsthatwentbackandforthbetweenmyselfandClaudineCapu?on,he’dberight.Hehadn’tlied.Hehadn’tevenshadedasingleline.Itwasmyownimagination,runningwildattheideaofstartingmycareeroverasthemanagerofasmallhotelafewhoursawayfromParis,thathadcoloredeverysinglewordhehadwritten.
Anotherplatewassetbeforeme.Beefandmushroomsinagravythatsmelledofherbsandredwine.Ibrokeoffabitofbreadanddippeditin,thenputitinmymouthandchewedslowly.
Heaven.
Well,Iwashere.Ihadaplacetoliveuntilthefall,andIhadasalary.Notmuchofone,tobesure,butIdidn’thavetoworryaboutrent.Withmyvisa,Ihadhealthcarepaidforafterthreemonths,andifIcouldeatfoodlikethiseveryday,howbadwoulditbe?
Besides,whereelsewasIgoingtogo?ChapterTwo
Ihungupmostofmyclothes,andtheyjustaboutfitintothewardrobeonold-fashionedwirehangers.IhadnocluewhatIwasgoingtodowiththerestofmythings.Icarriedmytoiletriesintothebathroom.Therewasnoplacetoputthembutintheclaw-foottub.IknewthatbackintheStates,aclaw-foottubwouldhavedrawnexclamationsofjealousyandrapture,butallIcouldthinkaboutwasnotbeingabletostandupunderashowerofsteaming-hotwaterunlessIheldthenozzleovermyhead.
WhowasIkidding?Whatwerethechancesofthereevenbeingsteaming-hotwater?
Withnothingelsetodo,Icarefullymadethebed,notingthatthepillowsweremadeofrealdown,andthequiltwasoldbutthickandbeautifullystitched.
“Lucy?”Colincalled.“Claudineisback.Areyoureadytomeether?”
WasI?Whoknew?Ordinarily,I’dhavechangedintomyredpowersuit,putonmakeup,andslidmyfeetintokillerheelstolookthepart.Butthatredsuithadfitlikeaglovetwentypoundsago,andIimaginedthatI’dlooklikeoneofthoseballoonpeoplethatclownsmadeatkids’partiesifIputitonnow.
Besides,Ifeltliedto(eventhoughIknewIhadn’tbeen),cheated(outofwhat?Ihadn’tdoneanythingyet),andaltogetherscammed(evenifitwasprobablyallmyfault).IhadreadeverysingleemailthatI’dreceivedfromClaudineandrereadthecontract.Thejobhadnotbeenmisrepresentedinanyway.Ihadjustbeenanidiot.Amiserable,exhausted,brokeidiotwhohadbeenbeatendowntoaquiveringmassofself-doubtandself-pityandhadgrabbedatthefirststrawthathaddriftedby.
Theonlystraw.
Iwentbackintothebathroomandlookedinthesmallmirrorthathungoverthesink.Ilookedold.No.Notold.Ilookedmyage,whichIhadn’tuntilthispastyear.Ialsolookedtired,butthatwaseasilyexplained.I’djustflownacrosstheocean,hadn’tI?WhatIwouldnottoleratewaslookinglikeacompleteloser.Icrouchedbythetubandhuntedthroughthecarry-onuntilIfoundwhatIneeded.Icarefullyputonsomelipstickandvigorouslybrushedmyhairuntilitfluffedoutfrommyheadinbouncycurls.Theymayhavebeensalt-and-peppercurls,but,byGod,theywereperky.
“Coming,”Icalled.Igrabbedmylaptopoffthekitchentable,pulledmyveryexpensivepenandredleathernotebookoutofmypurse,andfollowedColinoutoftheroom,acrossthetwilitcourtyard,andintoHotelParadis.
Thelobbywascoolanddark,withablack-and-whitemarble-tiledfloorandamassivechandelierthathungindarknessfromthetwelve-footceiling.Thishadoncebeenthevestibuleofamanorhouse,andthegrandeurwasstillthere.Totheleftwasanalcovethathousedasweepingstaircasetothesecondfloor.Acrossfromthefrontdoors,Icouldseeahugesalon,lostindarkness,itsfloor-to-ceilingwindowsshutteredtightly.Totherightwasalongcountermadeofdarkwoodthatlookedtobemahogany.Behindit,Icouldseethepigeonholeswhereroomkeyswouldhavebeenkept.Istoppedandstared.Ihad—literally—onlyseenthoseinthemovies.Therewasalargelibrarytableinthecenterofthespacewithbeautifullycarvedlegs,andbrasssconcesalongthewallsprovidedasoftlight.
Itwasastepbackintime,andifIsquintedtobluroutthechippedwoodanddullmetal,thewater-stainedplasteranddingywindows,theplacewasmagnificent.
“Wow,”Iwhispered.
Colinmusthaveheardmebecausehegrinnedoverhisshoulder.“She’ssomethingelse,isn’tshe?”
Yes,shewas.
AndsowasClaudineCapu?on.“Bonjour,”shesangoutasshesweptintothelobby.
WhatwasIexpecting?Achicandicyoldwomaninaseveresuitandlotsofdiamonds?Ormaybeawild-haired,boho-chic,middle-agedhippie,drippingingoldnecklacesanddanglyearrings?Ahuddledcrone,withaskinnyblackcigarbetweenbrightredlipsandclawlikehands?
Shelookedtobeolderthanme,probablybytenyears,andIswearherhairwasthesamemixofgraycurlsandshaggylayersasmine.Shewaswearingbright,red-framedglassesandasimplesweaterwithslacks.Sherushedovertomeandhuggedme,speakingsorapidlythatevenifshewerespeakingEnglish,IdoubtIcouldhaveunderstooditall.
“Claudine,”Colinsaid,thenrattledoffsomeFrench,andClaudinesteppedback.
“Welcome,”shesaidcarefully.
“Merci,”Ianswered,justascarefully.
Wewalkedpastthemainstaircaseanddownanarrowpassagethatopenedtoaroomthatwascalmandsimple,sleeklinesoffurniturecompletelyoutofsyncwiththeplasterwalls,tallwindows,andornatewoodwork.Wesatdownatasmall,roundtablecoveredinavibrant,colorfulcloth,andshepouredwine.Colinsatwithus,andthethreeofusclinkedglasses.
“IknowyouspeakFrench,”Colinsaid,“butyoudidsayyouweren’ttoosureofhowproficientyouwere.Ifyoudon’tmind,I’lljustsithereandmakesurethereareno,ah,misinterpretations.”
Iwasfinewiththat.WhileIcouldalreadyfeelmy“ear”comingback,Ididn’twanttoagreetoanythingthatmightbeadisasterbecauseofamisplacedvowel.
“Haveyoumadeanytypeofplanforyourfirstfewweekshere?”sheasked.
Iopenedmylaptop.“I’vebeenthinkingaboutawebsite.”ImadesureIspokeslowlyandclearly.“Whatkindofbudgetwereyouthinkingof?Thereareseveraloptionsavailable,dependingonwhatserviceswechoose.Dowewantpeopletobeabletomakereservationsonline?Becausethatrequiresratherexpensivesoftware,butwecanprobablyfindoneofthesecompaniestoaccommodateus.”
Shelistened,thenmadeaface.“Thereisnobudgetforawebsite.Can’tyoudoityourself?I’velookedatafew,anditlookseasyenoughtodo.”
Icontinuedtoscrollthroughallmycarefullyresearchedwebsitehosts,mymindracing.“I’veneverbuiltawebsiteonmyown,”Isaid.
“Mygodsonhasone.Ifafifteen-year-oldcandoit,howhardcanitbe?”
MymindwentovertheemailsI’drereadinthepasthour.Asamatteroffact,IhadassuredClaudinethatIwouldbehappytohelpbuildawebsitethatwaseasytouseandattractivetoAmericantravelers.Hmmm…
“Well,thenIguesswecanstartbytakingpicturesoftheroomsandgettingalltheratesonline.Unlessyoualreadyhavepictureswecanuse?”
Sheshookherhead.“No.Yousee,noneoftheroomsarereadytobephotographed.Theyallneedtobepaintedanddecorated.”
Isatbackandstaredather,thenatColin.“Whatisshetalkingabout?”IsaidtohiminEnglish.“Painted?Theseroomsaren’tevenpainted?”
Heshruggedandlookedapologetic.“Itoldyouthehotelhadbeenessentiallyvacantsincebeforethewar.”
“But…”
Heleanedforward.“ItsaysinyourcontractthatyouwillberesponsibleforbringingalltheexistingaccommodationsuptoastandardacceptabletoAmericantourists.”
“True.ButIdidn’tthinkthebaselinewouldbeso…low.Istheresomeonealreadylineduptodoallthepaintingand,Iguess,decoratingandcleaning?”
ColinlistenedandturnedtoClaudine.Therewasalengthyandheatedexchange,toofastformetofollow,beforesheturnedbacktome.
“Thatwouldbeyou,”shesaid.
Iclosedmylaptopandsatback,armsfoldedacrossmychest.“Now,waitjustaminute…”
Claudine’ssmileneverwavered,buthereyeswerecold.“Lucy,doyouknowwhatyourroleishere?Didyouhavealawyerlookoveryourcontract?Whatdidn’tyouunderstand?”
“Iunderstooditperfectly.Ijustassumedthatmyrolewouldbemoreofasupervisoryposition.Youknow,tellingpeoplewhattodo.”
Claudinestoppedsmiling.“Iamtheowner.Iamtheonetellingyouwhattodo.”
Ithinkmyjawdroppedopen.Oh,dearLord,whathadIgottenmyselfinto?
Inthesectionofthecontractthatwasspecificallyaboutpreparingthehotelforitsopening,therewasnomentionofpaintingagedplasterwallsoranyothertypeofphysicallabor.AsIgearedmyselfuptoargue,Irealizedtherewasnothingtherethatexemptedanyofthat,andthatpreparationwasarelativeterm.Ihadexpectedtobeorderingaroundabunchofworkerbeeswhowouldbearrangingpricelessantiquesandrehangingancestralportraits,leavingmethelessarduousdutiesofputtingfreshflowersintocrystalvasesandplumpinguplinenpillows.Thatwasnot,apparently,Claudine’sexpectation.
“Well,Icertainlycan’tdoeverythingbymyself,”Istammered,tryingtoregroup.Ihadn’tpaintedaroomsinceI’dmovedintomyfirstapartmentincollege.
Claudinewassmilingagain.“Ofcoursenot,”shesaid.“Everyonelivingherewillhelpyou.WeareallinvestedinmakingHotelParadisasuccess.”
IfelteveryplanIhadcarefullyformulatedinmyheadfoldupandscatterlikeahouseofcards.Iclosedmyeyesandtookafewdeepbreaths.
“Lucy?”Claudinesaid,pronouncingslowly.“Wehavefaith.”
Iopenedmyeyesandwassurprisedatthetearsinthem.“Why?”
Shespokegently.“Becausenooneworksharderthanapersonwithsomethingtoprove.”
Backinmyroom,Ireachedformyphone.WhattimewasitintheStates,anyway?Ididn’teventrytodothemath.Ijustdialed.
JuliaWilsonansweredonthethirdring.“OhmyGod!Areyouthere?Isitfabulous?Whyaren’tyouonFaceTimesoIcanseeyouramazingnewhome?”
Isatontheedgeofthewoodenchairandlookedaroundatmyamazingnewhome.“Julia,it’samess.Thisplaceisarelic.Theroomshavebeenunusedfordecades,andmyso-calledapartmentusedtobeahorse’sstall.There’snostaff;it’sjustmeandtheotherpeoplewholivehere,whoIhaven’tevenmet,andthere’snomoneyforawebsite—howamIsupposedtobuildawebsite?”Icouldfeelthetearsstartingandmybreathcomeupshort.“It’sallterrible,Julia.I’msuchafooltothinkthiswasgoingtosolveallmyproblems.”
“Okay,Lucy?Justtakeafewdeepbreaths.”Ipicturedher,probablyinherUpperWestSideapartment,ormaybeinherofficeatthesmallbutprestigiousMaxwellGallery.She’dbewearingblack—shealwaysworeblackuntilhighsummer—andshe’dpushbackhershort,perfectlydyedblondhairwithonehandwhileholdingherphonewiththeother.“Tellmefromthebeginning.You’rethere.”
“Yes.”
“In…Whereareyouagain?”
“Rennes.”
“Right.Isitabigcity?”
“Yes.Andbeautiful.It’sold,Julia,everythingissooldandlookslikesomethingfromthemovies.”
“So.You’reinthecity.Notsomecountryestate?”
“No.Imeanyes.Rightinthecity.”
“Andit’snotwhatyou’dpictured?”
“God,no.”
“Well,honey,let’sfaceit.Youhadbuiltthisplaceupinyourheadforweeks.Tobehonest,Icouldn’timagineanythinglivinguptoyourexpectations.YoukepttalkinglikeyouweregoingtomanageDowntonAbbey.”
Iburiedmyfaceinonehandandwiththeothergrippedthecellphonesotightlymyfingershurt.“Iknow,but…Julia,shethinksI’mgoingtopaintalltherooms.”
Ithinkshewasdrinkingbecauseitsoundedlikeshespitsomethingoutalloverherphone.
“You?Paintalltherooms?Haveyoueverevenheldapaintbrush?”
“OfcourseIhave,”Ishotback,feelingdefensive.
“Oh,Lucy.Mypoordarling.Iknowyouhadsomuchridingonthis.I’msosorryitdidn’tworkout.Howterribleisthisgoingtobeforyou,comingbackaftersuchabuildupabouthowwonderfulthisjobwas?”
Iliftedmyheadslowly.
Tosaytherehadbeenabuilduptothisjobwasputtingitmildly.Ihadpracticallythrownitinthefacesofmyfamily,especiallymylittlebrotherFrank,whohadspentmonthsmakingsnarkycommentsabouthowtheonlyhoteljobIwouldevergetagainwouldbeasadishwasher.MyfatherhadpracticallytakenoutanadintheNeighborNewswhenIgottheoffer,he’dbeensoproud.AndI’dspentweekspracticingFrenchinthemiddleofthelivingroom,atthetopofmyvoice,wheneverMomhadbeenaround.
Howterrible?
“Ican’tcomeback,”Iblurted.
“Wait…what?But,Lucy,youjusttoldmeitwasawful.”
“Itis.”
“Andyou’regoingtohavetopaint?Like,onaladderandeverything?Honey,we’relookingatfifty.Atourage,gettinguponaladderisdangerous.”
“Julia,ifIcrawlbackhomenow,withouteventrying,I’lldieinmyoldbedroom,wearingreallybadshoesandsurroundedbycats.”
“Oh,Lucy…”Shewassilentforamoment.“Youknowyoucanalwaysmoveinherewithme.”
Ifeltarushofgratitude.“Iknow.Ofcourse,yourhusbandwasn’tthrilledthefirsttimeyouoffered,andIdoubthe’schangedhismind.AndlikeIsaid,ifImovedinwithyou,I’dnevermoveout.”
“So…whatareyougoingtodo?”
Ihadnoidea.Untilthatmoment,mymindhadbeeninsuchawhirlIhadn’tthoughtaboutanythingbeyondgettingtothesafetyofthisroom.Iswallowed.Hard.“Ihavetostayforatleastsixmonths.”
“Sixmonths?”
“That’showlongmycontractis.That’showlongtheyhavetogivemeaplacetoliveandapaycheck,andthat’smorethanI’dgetifIwentcrawlingbacktoNewJersey.”
“Truethat.”Moresilence.“WhatcanIdo?Doyouneedmoney?”
“I’mfine.Imean,Idon’thaveanymoney.Mylawyerstookeverything.Butthen,Ihavenothingtospenditonhere.Ihaveaplacetolive,andIguessthey’regoingtofeedme,andsinceI’llbespendingthenextfewmonthspaintingwallsandscrubbingfloors,Iwon’tbegoinganywhere…”
“Oh,honey.Justwaitaminute.Aren’tyou,like,twohoursfromParis?”
Ifinallysmiled.“Yes.ButIwassavingthatforyoutoshowme.”
“Well,don’t.Yougrabthatfirstdayoff,andyougoandstandbytheriverSeineandsendmeapictureofyourgorgeousfaceinfrontoftheEiffelTower.”
“Oh,Julia,Imissyoualready.”
Shesighed.“Imissyou,too.Andyouknowwhat?Youcandoanythingyousetyourmindto,Lucy.Iknowyou’vehadafewbadyears,butrememberbeforeallthiscraphappened?Rememberhowgreatyourlifewas?Rememberhowgreatyouwere?”
Yes,Ididremember.IranTheFieldingHotellikeawell-oiledmachine,andafteraveryrockystart,itbeganmakingmoney,makingemployeeshappy,makingguestsveryhappy.We’dbeenwrittenupineverythingfromNewYorkmagazinetoTheNewYorkTimes.IhadhobnobbedwiththeEastCoastelite,oratleasttheManhattanelite.AndIhadbeeninlovewithamarvelous,cultured,successfulmanwhoI’dthoughtlovedmebackuntilheranoffwithmillionsofdollarsandleftmetodealwiththeunpaidstaff,theangryguests,theFBI,theunions,andtheinvestors—allofwhomkeptlookingatmeandsaying,“Butyouhadtohaveknown.…”
Ihadn’tknown.Notabit.AndI’dbeenjustasshockedanddevastatedaseveryoneelse.
Butbeforethat,boy,lifehadbeengrand.
Inoddedtomyself.“Yeah.You’reright.Iwashotstuff,wasn’tI?”
“Baby,youstillare.”
“Yes.Iam.Andifanyonecantakethiswreckofaplaceandturnitintoashowstopper,Ican.”
“Thereyougo.”
“Anyonecanbuildawebsitethesedays.”
“Absolutely.”
Istoodupandstaredoutofmywindow.“Icanpaintaroom.Howhardcanthatbe?AndyouknowhowgoodIamaboutdecorating.”
“Yourplacewasastunner,Lucy.”
“That’sright.Why,Ibetthisplaceisloadedwithgreatfurnitureandallsortsofbeautifulthings,justwaitingforme.”
“That’smygirl.”
“I’mgood.”
“Lucy,you’rethebest.”
Outside,acrossthecourtyard,Icouldseetheatticroomssuddenlylightup.“Icandothis.”
“Yes.Youcan.”
“Thanks,Jules.Iloveyou,andI’lltalktoyousoon.”
Iclickedoffthephoneandwatchedasthelightsintheatticflickered.DavidBingham,Ipresumed.Icouldseehimpacinginfrontofoneofthenarrowwindows.Otherwise,thecourtyardwasemptyandquiet,palelightcomingfromafewwindowsalongthestablerowandasinglewindowonthefirstfloorofthehotel.
Isteppedoutintothemiddleofthecourtyard.Theairwascool,andIcouldhearthebarebranchesrustlinginthebreeze.ThecatI’dseenearlierwalkedslowlyoutoftheshadows,lookedatmewithslightregard,thenvanished.
Mykingdom.AllIhadtodowasconquerit.
Butfirst,Ineededtofindtheplugadapter,rechargemyphoneandlaptop,andstartmakingnewlists.
Themattressontheironbedwassurprisinglycomfortable,andIwokeupfeelingslightlyjet-laggedbutmostlyrefreshed.IhadopenedthewindowjustacrackbeforeI’dgonetosleepthepreviousnight,andIcouldhearabitofnoiseoutside.WhenIwenttothewindow,Icouldseemovementinthecourtyard.Icautiouslymovedthecurtaintopeek.
Colinwasstandingtoe-to-toewithamuchyounger,muchlargermanwhowasyellingandmakingwildgestures.IfearedforColin,thinkingthatoneofthosewildlyflailingarmscouldeasilyknockhimover.TheirconversationwasinFrench,anditwasobvioustheargumentwasaboutwhethertheyoungmanwasstayingforthedayorheadingouttoanotherjob.
Thethirdman,standingwithhisbacktome,watched,shakinghishead.Finally,hethrewuphisarmsandyelled,“Colin,stop!You’rebeingunreasonable.LetRaoulgo.Thepoormanneedstomakealiving,andthatwomanprobablypackedherbagsandranoffinthemiddleofthenightasfastasherAmericanlegscouldcarryher.”
Excuseme?
Iwasdressedinastripedsleepshirtthatfellalmosttomyknees.TotallyinappropriateattireforhavingaconversationfirstthinginthemorningoutofdoorswiththreemenIdidn’tknow.Butthatwasmehewastalkingabout,andasmyimaginaryhacklesrose,Ileftthebedroom,marchedtothefrontdoor,andpulleditopen.ColinstoppedarguingandturnedawayfromRaoul.Ashedid,hesawme.
HespokeEnglish.“Well,lookatthat.Shedidn’trunawayatall.Lucy,thisisRaoulFournier.Heisheretotalktoyouaboutwhatrepairsneedtobedonetotherooms.Andthisonehere?He’sDavidBingham.Bing,meetLuciaGianetti.”
Icrossedmyarmsacrossmychest,partiallyasadefensivemeasureinapossiblyhostilesituationandpartiallytopreventmyboobsfrombouncingaroundtoomuch.Iliftedmychin.“Stillhere,Mr.Bingham.Sorrytodisappointyou.”
Heturned,andcanItellyou?Myheartalmoststopped.
Hewasnothandsome.Well,okay.Maybehewas.Hisforeheadwashigh,andhisfaceangular.Hishairwaspewtergrayandlong,brushedbackawayfromhisface,LordByron–style.Hehadabeard,trimmedshort,graywithflecksofwhite.Hislipswereveryfull,andheseemedtobegrittinghisteeth.Hewasslope-shoulderedanddressedinjeansandanoxfordshirtofcrispwhitecotton,sleevesrolledup,revealinghairyandmusculararms.Hewasnottall,barelytallerthanmyfivefootsix.Buttherewassomethingabouthimthathitme,hard,rightinthegut.
“So,you’retheonewho’sgoingtosaveusall?Howareyougoingtodothat?”Hisvoicewasdeepandhadavaguesoutherntwang.AllthecuttingandsuccinctrepliesIhadonthetipofmytongueslidbackdownmythroat,leavingmybrainandmymouthgaspinglikeadyingfish.
Iclenchedmyjaw.Think,think,think.“Ihaveplans,”Ifinallyblurted.
“Likewhat,MissGianetti?”hecountered.“Areyougoingtopaintalltheroomssoftgreenwithbillowingdrapesandfluffypillows,likeeveryothersmallhotelinRennes?”
Imayhavebeenknockedoff-kilterbyasuddenandinexplicableattractiontoamanIdidn’tknowand,fromhisobviousarroganceandswagger,wouldprobablygrowtodespise,butIhaddonethework.“MostofthesmallhotelsinRennesaredecoratedinaverymodern,almostminimaliststyle.Ifyoudoabitofresearchonline,you’llseethattheseplaceshavecompletelysteppedawayfromthatshabby-chicParisianlook.Soofferingsoftgreenandfluffwouldsetusapart.ButI’mgoingtogomoreclassic.Alltheroomswillbewhite.”
“Well,isn’tthatboring.”
Imentallycountedtothree.“No,notboringatall.Classic.Ifyou’dbothertolookatanydecoratingmagazinepublishedinEuropeinthelastsixmonths,you’dknowthat.”Iknewexactlyhowtheroomsshouldlooktodrawtopdollarfromaffluenttouristswhowantedanauthenticexperienceinatownknownforitsmedievalbuildingsandcenturies-longhistory.Iwasn’tgoingtoletMr.Sexy-Eyesmansplainmyjobtome.NowthatI’drealizedI’dbepaintingallthosewhitewallsmyself,myenthusiasmhadsomewhatwaned,butmyvisionhadn’tchanged.
ItoremyeyesawayfromhisandlookedatRaoul.IspoketohiminFrench,thinkingthatI’dhavetogetfasteratswitchingfromonepieceofmybraintoanother.“It’sapleasuretomeetyou,Raoul.Ineedtochangeandhavesomecoffee.Whydon’tImeetyouinthehotellobby?Ihaven’tseenanyinteriorsyet,andweneedaplanforgettingtheseroomsinorder.Givemefifteenminutes,okay?”
Raoulnoddedandheadedtothehotel.
DavidBinghamsnortedoutalaugh.“Fifteenminutes?I’venevermetawomanwhocouldgetherselfreadyinthemorninginjustfifteenminutes.”
“Yes.Well,you’venevermetmebefore,haveyou,Mr.Bingham?”
Suddenly,hegrinned,andtheblastofcharmalmostknockedmebackonthecobblestones.“It’sBing.Tellyouwhat—ifyoucanbeoutinfifteenminutes,I’llhavecoffeereadyforyou.”
Ineededashower.Ineededtodosomethingwithmyhairtocurballthoseflyawaycurls.IneededtofindtheperfectI’m-a-professional-but-can-still-be-sexyoutfit.Ineededtolose—orhide—fifteenpoundsandallthewrinklesaroundmyeyes.
“It’sLucy.”
Heshookhisheadslowly.“No.It’sLucia.”
Iheldhiseyes.“Fine.Andit’sadeal.”
Imanagedit.Notthelosingweightorwrinkleremovalpartofthewishlist,butIwasclean.Myhairwasupinamessybun,butatleastitwasoutofmyface.Ifoundmybest-fittingjeansandatunicinmyfavoritecobaltbluethathidthepauncharoundmymiddle.IpushedmywaythroughthemaindoorsofHotelParadiswithtwominutestospare.
Lastnight,IhadmetwithClaudineinroomstotheleftofthelobbythatmadeupherpersonalsuite.Iwalkedtotherightnow,behindthelongcounter,followingthesoundofvoicestoanarrowoffice,crowdedwithtwomassivewoodendesks,abookcasecrammedwithbooksandfiles,andacomputersetupthatlookedtobeatleasttenyearsoutofdate.
Bingwasleaningagainstanelaboratefireplacemantel,outofplaceamongthetwenty-first-centuryclutter.
HestraightenedwhenIcamein.“Congratulations.Youaretheproudwinnerofonecupofcoffee.IhaveAmerican-style,ifyou’dlike.Orcafécrème?”
Ididn’tknowwhatcafécrèmewas,butifIwasgoingtobelivinginthiscountry,Ishouldprobablystartactinglikeabitofanative.“Cafécrème.Please.”
Henoddedandleft.Raoulwasperchedontheedgeofoneofthedesks,butheslidoffandheldoutthechairforme.“Please,MissLucy.Sit.”
“Thanks.Andno‘miss,’please.Afterall,we’llbeworkingtogether,yes?”
Hesmiledandpracticallylituptheentireroom.Hewasabeautifulyoungman,probablyinhisearlytwenties,withbroadshouldersandnarrowhipsinsplotchedpainter’spantsandaT-shirt,torninafewplacesandshowingsmoothskinonwhatIimaginedtobewashboardabs.Hiseyeswerebrightblue,andtheyweresmilingaswell.
“DoyouspeakEnglish?”Iasked.
Heshookhishead,nodded,thenshrugged.IdecidedtostaywithEnglishjusttoseewhereitallwent.“So,haveyoubeenworkingonanythinghereyet?Howdoesitlooktoyou?”
“Well.”Hepulledupanotherchair,swungitaround,andstraddledit,forearmsdanglingovertheback.“Innineties,manyimprovementsmade.Lights,water…Muchmoneyspent.Butsince…”Heshrugged.“Moreworkneeded.”
Well,thatdidn’tsoundtoopromising.“Colinsaidyouweregoingtodotherepairs?”
Henodded.“Yes.Ismyjob.Plaster,wood,windows.Allmyjob.”
Well,thatwasarelief.“Whataboutpainting?Andthefloors?”
Heshookhishead.“Thatyourjob.”
Bingcamein,asteamingcupineachhand,andheputonecupinfrontofme.“Idon’tthinkhemeansthatyouarepersonallyresponsibleforsandingandrefinishingthewoodenfloors.”
Itookasip.Thiswascafécrème?Hecouldn’thavejustcalleditalatte?OrwasthatastrictlyStarbucksterm?
“Thanks.Butthepaintingis?Mypersonalresponsibility?”
BingmadeasortofsnortthatwasalmostalaughasheandRaoulexchangedalook.
“Maybe.Probably,”Bingsaid,ahintofasmileathislips.“Thiswasaperfectlyfunctioninghotelatonetime.”
Isipped.Yep,thiswaslatte,allright,butthecoffeeflavorwasdeep,andthemilktastedverydifferentfromwhatIwasusedto.“Thatwaswhat,eightyyearsago?Haseverythingbeenkeptuptodate?”
Bingmadeanotheroneofthosesnort-laughs.“Barely.”
Isippedagain.“IsClaudinehere?MaybeIshouldbetalkingtoheraswell.”
“Claudinemeanttobehere,buttherewasanemergencyofsomekindatwork.Shedidsayshewasgoingtotrytocomerightback.She’s,well…youwouldcallheraCPA.Shehasherownfirm,”Bingexplained.“RaoulandIcangiveyouthegrandtourandansweranyquestionsyoumighthaveuntilshereturns.”
IfoundthatlookingatBingwasdistracting.Iwatchedhismouthmove,andasIdid,Iwonderedhowthegraystubbleonhisupperlipwouldfeelagainstmyskin.IshiftedmygazetoRaoul,whowasmuchmorepleasingtolookatbutdidnotelicitanywherenearthesameresponse.
“Areyouqualifiedtodothiswork?Ihatetoask,but…”Icertainlydidn’tneedawell-meaningDIY-erdoingrepairsontwo-hundred-year-oldwalls.
“Yes.Iworkwithbrotherbuildinghouses.Manyyears.ButClaudinesaysIcanbepartnerifIworkforher.Wouldbegoodtobebusinessowner,yes?”
Idrankmorecoffee,andasithitmystomach,IwasremindedthatIhadn’teaten.“Howmanypartnersarethere,exactly?”
Bingleanedbackagainstthedeskandcradledhiscoffeecupinbothhands.“Colinputinachunk.Stavrosisgoingtoberunningthekitchen,providingfreebreakfastfortheguests.Nocashoutput,sohegetsasmallerslice.Raoulhasnocash,either,buthehasaveryrealskillset,sohe’sinforabiggercut.”
“Andyou?”Iasked,lookingathim.Hiseyeswerelight.Gray?Hazel?Whatevercolortheywere,theysuddenlybrightened.
“Iputupthemoneyforyoursalary.Claudineletmelivehererent-freeforanumberofyears,andIowedher,big-time.”
“Butthat’salotofmoney.Whywouldyoudothat?”
Hefrowned.“BecauseIdon’twantClaudinetobeworkinginanofficeateightywhenallshewantstodoisquitherjobandbethecharming,gracioushostessshewasborntobe.Raoulhereshouldbemakinghandcraftedfurnitureinsteadofhammeringtogethertwo-by-fours.Colinneedstostopteachingmusictheoryandstartcomposingsymphonies.”
“Interesting.AndwhataboutGeorges?Ishegoingtogiveupdrivinghiscartodesignwomen’sshoes?”
Bingstaredamoment,thenthrewbackhisheadandlaughed.“That’sverygood.Iwasbeginningtothinkyouhadnosenseofhumoratall.No,GeorgeswillprobablybeburiedinthatVolvo.He’sjustoneofClaudine’sstrays,lookingforaplacetobelong.”
HewatchedmeasIfinishedthecafécrème.BestmorningcoffeeI’dhadinyears.
“Didyoueat?”heasked.
“What?No.Butthat’sokay.Icangetsomethinglater.”
“No.Raoul,runacrossthestreetandgrabwhateverStavroshashandy.Comeon,Lucia.Letmegiveyouthegrandtour.”
Okay,then.Herewego.ChapterThree
Thegrandstairswerejustoffthelobby,aswasanelevator,obviouslybuiltinthetwenties.Itwassmall,barelybigenoughfortwopeopleandonesuitcase,behinddoorsfestoonedwithwroughtironinanartdecopattern.“Isthissafe?”Iasked.
“Absolutely.Itwasupgradedsometimeinthesixties.Claudineremembersitasbeingaverybigdeal.Anditreallyhasn’tbeenusedverymuchsincethen.Ibelieveitwasinspectedrecently.”
Wewentupthestairs.“Thereareafewguestroomsonthegroundfloor,”Bingexplained,“butmostoftheworkwillbeuphere.”
Atthetopofthestairswasalanding,withtheobligatorychandelierandaspaciouscorridorwithtall,carveddoorsleadingtoroomsonthefrontandbackofthehotel.
“Theroomsbehindusoverlookthesideofthehotel.Basically,it’sanalley.Buttherestoftheroomshavesomesortofview.”Heledmeforwardandopenedatallwoodendoor,itscreamywhitepaintpeelingoffinlongcurlicues
“Alltheroomsonthissideoverlooktheinteriorpatio,”Bingsaid.
Itookastepin.
“Ontheotherside,theroomsoverlookthefrontcourtyard.Andattheotherendthere,thoseroomslookoutonourgarden.”
“There’sagarden?”Iasked,takinganotherstep.Thefirstthingthatcaughtmyeyewasabeautifulfireplace,itsmantelmadeofcarvedmarble.
“Yes,butit’sarealgarden.Thatis…well,wegrowthingsthere.”
We?Whowas“we”?Andwhatkindsofthings?“Oh?”Ilookedaround.“Oh…”
Theceilingherewasalsotwelvefeettall.Waterstainsdarkenedtheplasterwalls.Thewindowswerealmosttotheceilingandbroad,afewpanescracked,withasimplediamondpatternacrosstheverytopoftheglass.Inthecenterofthefilthywoodenfloorwasaclusteroffurniture.OratleastIassumedfurniture.Therewasadustytarpthrownoverthetopofthepile,butIcouldseethecurvedlegsofachairandpossiblyabedunderneath.
Iwalkedpastthefireplace.“Doesthiswork?”
“Maybe.”
Ithenwenttothewindowandlooked.
Theentirebackofthepropertywasenclosedbyanotheroneofthosehighstonewalls.Belowmewasanemptypatioofgrayslate,thesilhouettesofbarelyleafed-outtreescastingshadowsinthepalesunlight.
“Whataview!”Isaid,feelingasurgeofexcitement.“Howaboutthisbalcony?Isitsafe?Canguestshavedirectaccesstothecourtyardfromuphere?”
Bingcameupbehindmetolookovermyshoulder.Icouldfeeltheheatofhisbodyagainstmyback,andIcouldsmellsomethingthatremindedmeofturpentine.Washepaintingsomething?Anddidhereallyhavetostandsoclosetome?
“Thebalconiesareallsafe.There’sbeensomesortofinspectioninthepastyear.Andthere’sanotherstairwayfromthisfloorthatleadsdirectlydowntothesalon.”
“Itwouldbeperfect,”Isaid,mymindstartingtospin.“Eachbalconyisbigenoughforasmalltableandacoupleofchairs.Anddownonthepatio,wecanputirontablesandmorechairs,lotsofbigclaypotswithpalmsandferns.Doesitgetmuchsunallday?Maybegeraniums.”
Thatsnort.“Claudinewillkillyouifyoutrytoputageraniumbackthere.Butfernssoundgood.Ifyoucantalkherintoit,thatis.”
Itriedtoopenthewindow,butthehasphadbeenpaintedshut.
“They’recalledportes-fenêtres,”Bingexplained.“They’rewindows,butopenlikedoors.It’saFrenchthing.”
Ilookedatthefloor.Nowaterdamagethere,atleast.Theradiatorwasrusty.“Doesthatwork?”
“Yes.Allthebasicmechanicalswork.Thingshadjustbeenneglected.”
Iopenedapaneleddoorsetintothewall.Thebathroom.Verynarrow,runningprobablyhalfthelengthoftheroom.Thefloorwasblack-and-whitehexagontiles,mostlyintact.Asimplepedestalsink,toilet,andbidet,alllinedupinarow.Attheendsataclaw-foottubwithnoshowerattached.Ilookedintothetub.Stainedrustandblack.Thestainsinthesinkandtoiletwerealmostasbad.
“So,Iguesstherehasn’tbeenanyregularcleaninginthepasteightyyears?”Itriedtokeepmyvoicelight,butmystomachwassinkingfast.
“Actually,”Bingsaid,“Claudinetendstotheroomsonaregularbasis.Justcheckingformoldanddampandairingthingsout.Forthebigstuff,sheholdsapartyeveryBastilleDay,andwealldrinkwineandclean.”
“Weall?”
Heshrugged.“Weallwholivehere.”
“So,onceayear,sixdrunksgettogethertodustandvacuum?”
“Notjustthesixofus.Sometimesthereareotherinvitedguests.”Therewaslaughterinhisvoice,buthekeptastraightface.“Novacuum.Butwedohavemops.”
“Isee,”Ibreathed.Isteppedoutofthebathroomandlookedatwherethewallmettheceiling.“Howoldarethosewaterstains?Pleasedon’ttellmetheroofneedsrepair.”
“Itdoesn’t.Theroofisslateand,tobehonest,onlystartedtogiveustroubleafewyearsago.It’sbeenfixed.Thishotelwasregularlymaintainedupuntilrightbeforethewar,andplaceslikethiswerebuilttolast.Thedamagelooksbad,butit’smostlyonthesurface.”
Ipulledoffthetarp,expectingacloudofdust,butitslidoffwithoutmuchbother.Yes,therewasabedunderthere,anornatelycarvedheadboardandfootboard,withamattressthatlookedlikeabodyhadbledoutonit.Therewasalsoasmalldesk,obviouslyantique,andadresserthatlookedlikeithadcomeoutofafarmhouse,withsimplelinesandwhitewashedwood.
“Very,ah,eclecticstyleshere,”Isaid,leaningintotakeacloserlook.
“Thefurnituresituationisveryuneven.Somepiecesare,seriously,originaltotheopeningofthehotelbackinthe1800s.Thenyouhavebargain-basementpiecesthatweredraggedinthroughouttheyears.”
“Well,thatshouldmakedecoratingabreeze,”Imuttered.“Noclosets?”
“ClosetswereneverathinginFrance.Especiallynotintheeighteenthornineteenthcentury.Wedohaveanextensivecollectionofarmoiresandwardrobestochoosefrom.”
“Gotcha.”Therewasaveryornatechandelierhanginginthemiddleoftheroom,halfofitscrystalpiecesmissing.“Istheelectricalanygood?”
“It’sverygood.Claudineneverhadalotofmoneytokeeptheplaceup,butshealwaysfound,um,waystogettheimportantjobsdone.”
“Ways?”
Hismouthtwitched.“Well,shehasanextensivelistofclients,andshehasaveryunusualrelationshipwithsomeofthem.Ibelievetheelectriciansleptherethroughtheentirejob.”
“Ah.”Well,then.Atleastthatwasn’twrittenintomycontract.“So,isthisprettymuchwhatalltheroomslooklike?”
Henoddedandcrossedhisarmsagainsthischest.“Everythingmaylookrough,butyouhavealottoworkwith.”
Therewasachallengeinhisvoice,andIimmediatelyrosetomeetit.“Yes,IthinkIdo.ThereareafewsimilarpropertiesinRennes,sowehavetomakesurethisonestandsout.LeMagicHallhaskindofasimilarvibe,buttheinteriorsthereareverymodern.There’stheBalthazar,butthat’salsoverymodern,andtheyhaveaspa,sothat’sacompletelydifferentkindofguest.Wearegoingtobeveryniche,averyold-worldvibe.Youknow”—Iliftedaneyebrow—“billowingcurtainsandfluffypillows.”
Henoddedslowly,asthoughtohimself.“Iseethatyou’vedonealittlebitofwork.”
Iclosedmyeyesandtookacleansingbreath.IftherewasonethingIhadbeenfightingmywholelife,thiswasit.Iopenedmyeyesandgavehimwhatmybrothersusedtocall“thelookofdeath.”
“Yes.I’vedonethework.I’vebeeninhotelsmyentireadultlife.IstartedbusingtablesataHolidayInnasapart-timejobinhighschool,andI’vehardlydoneanythingelse.I’veworkedineverydepartment—housekeeping,reservations,I’vepreppedfoodinhalfadozenkitchens.IevenspentasummerfollowingaroundtheheadofmaintenanceattheMarriottinShortHills,NewJersey.Thisismyjob,Bing.AndIamverygoodatit.Morethanthat,Iloveit.TherehavebeenplentyofscrewupsinmylifethatIdeservecriticismfor,butnoonecanfaultmywork.Especiallynotsomeonewhoobviouslyknowsnothingaboutmeorhotels.”
Itookabreath.HadIbeenshouting?Iglancedover,andtherestoodRaoul,lookingrathercowedandholdingalargepaperbag.
“Ihavefood,”hesaid.
Bingclappedhishandstogether.“Good.Ithinkalittlefoodiswhatweallneed.”Helookedatme.“Iapologize.Iknowwhatitmeanstolovewhatyoudo.Iwillnotmakethismistakeagain.”HefollowedRaouloutintothehallway.
Iputmyhandthroughmyhair,tuckinginafewcurlsthathadescapedthebun
Foodwouldbegood.
Backdownstairs,thesalonwasdark,thefloor-to-ceilingdoorscoveredbyinteriorshutters.Bingopenedthemup,andtheroomslowlyfilledwithsunlight,revealingsmallwoodentablesandanassortmentofchairspushedagainstthewall.Heopenedafewoftheportes-fenêtres,andthecool,freshairrushedin.Thepatiobeyondwassilentinthemorningsun,withoutsomuchasarippleinthebranchesofthetrees.Raoulpulledoneofthetablesinfrontoftheopenwindow,thenreachedforafewofthechairs.Isat,andfromthepaperbagcamethesmellofwarmbaking.
Binghandedmeacroissant,andmymouthbegantowater.Helookeddownatme.“Wouldyoulikesomemorecoffee?”
ImanagedtonotstuffapieceofthecroissantintomymouthuntilafterIsaid,“Yes,please.”
Hesmiled,againwiththatblastofsuddencharm,thenwalkedthroughasetofdoubledoorsinthecornerofthesalon.
Howcouldonepersonbesosmugandpatronizingoneminute,thenturnintosomethingsoyummy…Wait.Thatwasthewrongword.Thatappliedtothecroissant.NotBing.NotBing.
“Heisnotsuchanasshole,”Raoulsaidsuddenly.
Ilookedathim,surprised.“What?”
“Bingisgoodman.Hecaresaboutus.Buthecanbereal…whatisit?Douchebag?”helookedatmehopefully.“Isthatagoodword?”
Iburstoutlaughing.“Yes,that’saverygoodword.”Ifoundthatbreakingthecroissantintosmallpieceskeptmefromwolfingitdownlikeamaniac.
“So,tellme,Raoul.Howlongwillittaketogetalltheroomshereingoodworkingorder?”
Hewaschewingonapieceofbaguette,smearedwithsomesortofjam.“Mypart?Sixweeks.Weneedtochecklightsandplumbingbutismostlygood.Idomostlyplasterwork.Somewoodrepair.”
“That’sprettyquick.”
Henodded.“Yes,prettyquick.Butnotmeanpaint.Orclean.Or,whatsay…décor?”
Right.Becausepaint,clean,anddécor…thatwasmypart.“Tellmeabouttheotherpeoplehere.They’regoingtohelpme?”
Henodded.“Yes.ColinandBing.Theyverymuchhelp.MarieClaudeandEliotaremarried.Theybothworkbutwillhelpatnight.Eliotverybig.”
“Eliotishuge,”Bingsaidashecamebackinandhandedmeasteamingcup.Hesmiled.“Heneedsdirection.”
“I’mgoodatthat,”Isaid.“Directing.”
“Ibetyouare,”Bingsaid,sittingdownacrossfromme.Hewasholdinghisowncup.
“Andwhereisallthisdeliciouscoffeecomingfrom?”Iaskedhim.
Henoddedtoasetofdoubledoors.“Wehaveacompletekitchenhere.AndanyFrenchkitchenhasanespressomachine.IsRaoulgivingyoutherundownofavailablepersonnel?”
“Yes.HesaidyouandColinareverymuchhelp.”Iraisedbotheyebrows.“Areyou?”
Hesippedcoffee,butIsawthatsmile.“Verymuch.”
“MarieClaudeandEliotarethenightshift.WhoelsehaveIgot?”
Raoulmadeaface.“Vera.”
“Now,Raoul,don’tstart,”Bingwarned.
“Oh?”Ireachedformorecroissant.“Vera?”
“Veraisalcoholic,”Raoulsaid.“Veryundependable.Claudine…”
“ClaudineisVera’sverygoodfriend,”Bingexplained.“AndVerahasbeensoberformanyyears.”
Raoulrolledhiseyes.“Veryundependable,”herepeated.“Thenthere’sKarl,whoissooldisuseless.”
“Heisnot,”Bingcountered,buttherewaslaughterinhisvoice.“He’sveryenergeticforhisage.”
“Whichis?”Iasked.
“Eighty-three,”Bingsaid,hismouthtwitching.
Isippedmoreofthatsoothing,deliciouscoffee.“Anddoeshehaveanyparticularskill?LikeRaoulhere?”
“Youmeansomethinguseful?Likeplumbingormasonryortilework?Heisagardener.”Hewasgrinningnow.“Andaretiredprofessorofhistory.Whatheismostlygoodforisexplainingthingstoyouinmuchmoredetailthanyoueverrealizedyouneeded.”
Ifeltdesperate.“Canheholdapaintroller?”Iasked.
“Ifyoucangivehimaverygoodreasontodoso,”Binganswered.
“Ifthishotelfails,willhelosehishome?”Thecroissantwasfinished,andIfeltreadytotakeontheworld.
Bingshrugged,andtherewaslaughteragaininhisvoice.“Notnecessarily.Afterall,we’vebeenlimpingalongforyears.Butthere’salwaysachancethatClaudinemayjustgiveup,so…Yes.Thatmightbejustthereasonheneeds.”
Raoulbrushedhisfingertipstogether,looseningcrumbs.“Shouldwebegin?Ihavealldaytodayifyouwantwork.”
Isat,mymindgoingthroughthemyriadoflistsI’dputtogetherlastnightbeforebed.“Gointoeachroom.Startonthefirstfloor,Iguess.Thereareguestroomshere?”
Raoulnodded.“Yes.Three.”
“Canyourepairtheplaster?Allthewallsneedtobereadytopaint,soanywaterdamageneedstobefixedrightaway.Canyoudothat?”
Henoddedashestood.“Yes.Idothat.Verygoodstart.”
“Iwanttolookatthisso-calledgarden.Andfigureoutaplanforthepatiohere.Ialsoneedtoinventoryallthefurnishingsandseewhatcanbeusedandwhere.CanMarieClaudeandEliotcleanupthefurniture?Polishlightfixtures?”
Bingnoddedslowly.“Yes.I’msurethey’recapableofdoingthosethings.”
“HowaboutVera?Doessheworkduringtheday?”
“Atuniversity,inlibrarythere,”Raoulsaid.
“So,shehaslotsoftimetohelpornot?”
“Yes,”Raoulsaid.“Butshewillnot.”
“We’llsee,”Isaid.“AndKarl?”
“Wecanvisithimrightnow,ifyou’dlike,”Bingsaid.
“No.Thisafternoon,afterIfindsomethingsuitableforhimtodo.Okay,then,Bing,howabouttherestofthetour?”
Hestood.“Ofcourse.I’mveryinterestedinwhatyouhavetosayabouttherestofourlittlehotel.”
Why?Whatelsecouldpossiblybewrongwiththerestofthehotel?Andonceagain,therewaslaughterinhisvoice.Whydidhefindthisallsofunny?ButIjustsmiled.
“Leadtheway.”
Therestoftheroomsonthesecondfloorwerenotallthatmuchbetterthanthefirstonewe’dlookedat.Thereweredegrees,ofcourse.Someplasterwallsweresmooth,justfadedandugly.Mostofthefloorswereundamagedbutfilthy.Inthecenterofeachroomwasapileoffurnishingsinvaryingdegreesofrepairand/ordisrepair.Allthebathroomswereeitheroh-my-Godoralmostoh-my-God.
Iaskedtoseethegarden,andwewentdownabackstaircase,intothelobby,andoutthefrontdoor.Atthefarcornerofthehotel,throughanarchwayinyetanotherwall,wasthegarden.Itwasalevelpatch,quitelarge,andenclosedonallsides.Itwasneatlyplanted,andtherewasawholelotofgrowinggoingon.Irecognizedstakesfortomatoes,tepeesforbeans,andelaboratetrellises.Palegreensprigswereeverywhere,pushingupthroughdark,dampearth.
“Thisispracticallyafarm,”Isaid.
Bingnodded.“ThisisallKarl’swork.It’sbeenyearsinthemaking.”
“Andit’sbeautiful,butweneedthistobeusedaspublicspace.Howarewegoingtohaveguestssitouthereamongthevegetables?”
“Onthesebenches.They’renotveryfashionable,butthey’recomfortableenough,”Bingsaideasily.“Thisgardenisashowplace.Lookatit.It’saswelllaidoutasanyformalgarden.Andtherearewholebedsofflowersamongallthevegetables.Doesitmatterthatwecaneatthethingsthatgrowhere,insteadofjustlookingatthem?”
Hewasright.Thebroadflagstonepathsdividedheavilyplantedareasmulchedwithstraw.Threesimplebencheswerelinedupinfrontofthetomatostakes.Theairsmelledfreshandearthy,birdsongwaseverywhere,andthebeeshummedhappily.
“Canwegetherefromthehotellobby?”Iasked.
Heshookhishead.“No.Alltheroomsonthissideareguestrooms.Therearethreeofthem,andtheyopenupdirectlyontothegarden.”
Ilookedaround,thenbackatthehotel.“Wecanconvertoneoftheguestroomstopublicspace.We’regoingtoneedmorethanjustadiningroom,anyway.We’llneedsomewhereforgueststowork,plugintheirlaptops,copythings.Maybewecancreateanofficethatcanthenopenuptothegarden.”
“You’dlosearoom.Andtherevenueofthatroom,”Bingpointedout.
“Yes.Buthavingaroomwithworkspacecapabilitywillbeattractivetoguests.”
“Aren’ttheseguestssupposedtobeonvacation?”Therewaslaughterinhisvoice.
“Beingonvacationwon’tstopthemfromcheckingemailsandthatsortofthing,”Isaid.“Canyoushowmethefirst-floorrooms?”
Heshrugged,andIfollowedhimback.Wewentpastthefrontdeskdownawindow-linedcorridorthatturnedtothebackofthebuilding.Raoulwasinthefirstroom,atarpspreadonthefloor,tappingthewallsgentlywithahammer.Iwatchedaschunksofplasterfell.Theroomwasatthecornerandoverlookedthefrontcourtyardandthegarden.
“Thenextone?”Iasked.
Thesecondroomwassmallerbuthadabeautifulfireplace.Therewasnovisiblewaterdamage,butitwasbleakandcharmless,withdebrispiledinthecorners,crackedpanesintheglasswindow,andwiresdanglingwhereagleamingchandeliershouldhavehung.“Maybe,”Isaid.
Attheendofthehallwaywastheothercornerroom.Tallwindowsopenedonthegardensideandtotheinteriorpatio.Here,thefloorwasscuffedbutfairlyclean,thewindowsintact,andthewallssmooth.Therewastheexpectedpileinthecenterofthefloor,chairlegspeekingoutfrombeneathadustytarp.
“Thisisit,”Isaid.“Accessibletoboththegardenandthecourtyard…Yes,thiswillwork.Andthatdoorway?Isthesalonrightthere?”
Heshookhishead.“No.Thebathroom.”Heopenedthebathroomdoor.Itwasliketheothers,longandnarrow,thetoiletandsinkatthefarend,aclaw-foottubtakingupmostofthespace.
“Wecanbreakthroughtothesaloneasilyenough,”Isaid,halftomyself.“Makethisastoragecloset?Orpowderroom?Guestscangofrombreakfasttowork,oroutsidetositinthesun,ortothegarden.Yes,thisisperfect.”Ifeltamountingexcitement,afamiliarfeelingthatIhadn’tfeltinalongtime.Thiswasaplancomingtogether.
Iwalkedtothefloor-to-ceilingwindowsoverlookingthegardenandpushedoneopen,breathinginthesweetspringair.Iturnedbacktotheroomandnodded.“We’llputinbookshelvesandafewcomfortablechairs,andinthecorner,we’llhaveadesk.”
“Youthinkit’sjustthateasy?”
“Yes,Ido.Why?Whatwouldbesohard?”
Thatsmileplayedaroundhislipsagain.“Youjustseemtothinkyoucanwalkaroundandtalklikeyou’reactuallygoingtoaccomplishsomething.”
“CanIaskyousomething?”Isaid,steppingcloser.Therewasnopitter-patterinmychestthistime,justaslow,angrythrob.
“Certainly.”
“Whataboutthisdoyoufindsodamnamusing?”
Hiseyesflewopen.“What?”
“You.This.Everytimeyouopenyourmouth,yousoundlikeyou’regoingtoburstoutlaughing.Thisisamonumentaltask,andyouknowit.Therearecompletelyunrealisticexpectationshere,andyouknowthat,too.Oratleastyoushouldknowitunlessyou’reacompleteidiot.AtleastI’mtrying.I’mthinkingandtryingtofigureouthowtomakethiswholethingwork.Sotellme,what’ssofunny?”
Hecrossedhisarmsagainsthischest.“Thatyou—oranyoneelse,forthatmatter—canthinkthatthisisevenpossible.Claudineisabrilliantwoman,andIadmireherverymuch,butherschemetobringthishotelbacktolifeisapipedream.She’sconvincedallofus—well,notme,buttherestofthem—thatit’spossible.Andthenshegotyoutoflyoverheretosorteverythingout.Which,underthecircumstances,Ifindabsurd.”
“Andwhatcircumstancesareyoutalkingabout?”
Henarrowedhiseyes.“ThischaradeofyoursthatyouknewnothingaboutwhatTonyFieldingwasdoingandthatyoudon’tknowwhereheistoday.Aren’tyoujustwaitingforhimtoflyyoutowhateverislandhe’sboughtwithallthosemillions,soyoucangobacktoplayinghouse?”
Ifthishadbeenamoviefromthe1940s,Iwouldhaveslappedhimintheface.IfthishadbeenBrooklyninthe1980s,Iwouldhavetakenoutagunandshothim.Asitwas,Ijusttookthreestepsbackandgulpedforair.
Istartedtoswear.InItalian,becauseIhadfoundovertheyearsthatcursinginItalianwasmuchmoreempowering,especiallyiftheoneyouwereswearingatdidn’tknowItalian.Watchingthefacialexpressionsofapersonwhoknewtheyweregettingblasted,butnotsureexactlyhow,addedawholeotherlevelofsatisfaction.
Then,myhandsstartedflying.Icouldn’thelpit.First,theyflippedaroundmyface,then,asItookastepforward,theystartedinchingtowardhisfaceandhebegantobackaway.Good.Thenthepointingbegan,andthat’swhenIstoppedeventryingtocontrolmyself.
Heblanchedandkeptmovingback,andIkeptmovingforward,throughtheopenwindowandoutintothegarden,andbythen,Iwasshouting.Okay,maybescreaming.ThebirdsandmaybethebeesweresilentasIragedon.Itookadeepbreathtopossiblygathermythoughts,ormaybejustgetmoreoxygeninmylungs,whenIheardsomeoneapplauding,quiteloudly.Andtherewaslaughter.
ItwasClaudine,dressedinasimpleblacksuit,alargetotebagoverhershoulder.Shewasstandingattheedgeofthegarden,grinning.“Youareright,”shecalledout.“Heisathoughtlesspigwithnomanners.Andalthoughheusuallydoesknowwhathe’stalkingabout,ifthisisaboutyouandTonyFielding,I’monyourside.”
Iglaredather,mychestheaving.“Yourhotelisatotaldisaster!”IyelledatherinFrench.
“Iknow,”sheanswered.“Canyousaveit?”
“Ofcourse.”InarrowedmyeyesatBing.“That’swhyyouhiredme,right?”
Hetookastepback,stuckhishandsinhispockets,andwentbackthroughtheopenwindow.
Claudinewavedahand.“Come.Tellmeallthewonderfulthingsyouaregoingtodotomyhotel.”
“He’sreallynotanarrogant,no-nothingsonofseawhore,”Claudinesaid.
WhenColinhadsaidshecouldunderstandabitofItalian,he’dbeenoffthemark.ShehadunderstoodeverythingI’dsaid.
Iwasfeelingcalmer,butnotmuch.“Hemadeafewassumptionsthatwerecompletelyfalse.”
“SoIgather.YouspeakItalianlikeanative.”
“MyparentswerebothfromRome.TheywenttotheUnitedStatesontheirhoneymoonandneverleft.It’swhatwespokeathome.”
“Thatexplainsyourgraspofthe,ah,vernacular.”
Igrinned.“Ihavetwoyoungerbrothers.Thevernacularwasprettymuchalltheyspoke.”
“Thatmakessense.Butdon’tbetoohardonBing.He’squiteawonderfulman.Heisjustabitskepticalofmymission,andmychoosingyoutobepartofit.Hegaveyouthetour?”Wewalkedbackacrossthefrontcourtyardintothehotel.
“Yes.”Ifeltmyangereasing.Talkingbusinessdidthattome.“Iwasthinkingthatwehavetoturnafirst-floorguestroomintoapublicspace.Akindofofficeworkspaceandawayforgueststogettothegardenwithouthavingtowalkallthewayaround.”
“Thegarden?Karlgrowshisbeansandtomatoes.MarieClaudegrowsherbs.Whywouldanyonewanttogotothegarden?”sheaskedaswewalkedintothelobby.
“Weneedtoutilizeeveryinchofthisplace,Claudine.It’scalledmaximizingtheassets.”
“Andthegardenisanasset?Interesting.”Vagueconstructionsoundswereechoing.Shelookedatme.“You’veputthemtoworkalready?”
“JustRaoul.He’srepairinganydamagetothewallssowecanstarttopaint.”
“Excellent.”
Wewalkeddownthatfrontcorridor,pasttheopendoorwhereIcouldseeRaouluponaladder,stilltappingawayatthesoftenedplaster.
“Wewillhiresomeonetohelphim,”shesaid.“Heisveryfast,buthecanonlyworktwelvehoursaday.”
Twelve?Weretherenounionshere?Butthen,hewasapartner.IsupposedI’dprobablybeworkingtwelve-hourdaysaswell.IwatchedRaoulasheworked.“Howmanyroomsexactly?”
“Therearesixteenroomsupstairs.Andthreeonthisfloor.Thisisthegroundfloor,yes?Iknowinyourcountry,thiswouldbethefirstfloor,butno.Thisisthegroundfloor.Upstairsisthefirstfloor.”
“Andwhatabouttheattic?Thesecondfloor?”
Sheshrugged.“Binglivesthere.Thereareemptyrooms.Butnoelevator.”
“Thatwon’tmatter.Wealsoneedtoaccommodatehousekeeping.”
“Wehaveanentirecellarforthat,withwashingmachinesanddryers.Commercialgrade.Andoneachfloorisalargeclosetforstoringcleaningsuppliesandlinensandtowels.Thiswasdesignedtothehigheststandardwhenthehousewastransformedintoahotel.”
“Twohundredyearsago,”Imuttered.
Shesmiled.“You’llsee.”
Wecontinuedwalking.
“Whataboutpermits?”Iasked.
“Allplanshavebeenapproved,permitsissued,andtheproperpalmshavebeenoiled.Theelectricalworkhasalreadypassedinspection,andtheplumbingforthehotelisstayingasis,sothat’snotanissue,either.Thereisnoneedforconstruction,justrepairworkandpaint.Thenwewilldoabitofredecoratingandopenbythesummer,yes?”
“Claudine,Ithinkyouneedtorealizethatyou’regoingtoneedmorethanabitofredecorating.”
“Noteveryroomisbad,”shesaid.“Wewillfixthebestroomsfirst,sowehavepicturestoputonournewwebsite.”
Right.Thewebsite.Thatwasawholeotherlist.
“Muchhasbeendonealready,”shesaid.“Wehavebeenworkingallwinter.”Sheopenedthedoortothelastroom,thecornerroom,theroomIhadchasedBingoutofminutesbefore
“ThisiswhatIwanttousefortheoffice,”Itoldher.“Wecanjustcreateadoorwayhere,throughthebathroom,soguestscancomerightfromthesalon.So,maybealittleconstruction?”
Shenodded.“Yes.Wecanhaveabitofhallwayherewithnoproblem.”Shelookedaround.“Wecanmakethisyourofficespace,ifyou’dlike.Idon’tmindlosingtherevenueofthisroom.Iwouldfeelguiltyrentingitouttoguests.”
Iwassurprised.“Why?Thisgoesrighttotheoutside.Guestswouldloveit.”
Sheshookherhead.“Maybenot.Thecourtyardishaunted,”shesaid.
Imentallycountedtofive.Slowly.“Thecourtyardishaunted?”
“Yes.Notabadghost,youunderstand,but,well,someguestsmightbefrightened.”Shelookedverycalm,justasthoughshehadn’tjustsaidsomethingtotallyoutrageous.
Ireinedinanyurgetojumpupanddown,scream,andrunlikehell.“Doyouknowwhoitis?Theghost,Imean?”
Shesmiledandopenedthetallwindowthatledtothecourtyard.Ifollowedherslowly.
Theairwassunlitandstill.Notrafficsoundscameoverthewalls,althoughIknewthatthestreetwasrightontheotherside.Nobreezeruffledtheleavesgatheredinthecorners.Nobirdschirpedfromtheeaves.
“Ithinkshewasamaid,”Claudinesaidquietly.“Whoknows?Manypeoplehavediedhere.Youknowthattheoriginalhouseburnedtothegroundinthegreatfire?Notinthisexactlocation,ofcourse.Theestatewasmuchlargerthen.Theyrebuilthere,wherethefirehadnotreached.”Shemotionedwithherhand.“Theyusedthelocallimestoneforthenewhouse.Simplebutverybeautiful.Thentheyrenovatedittobecomeahotel.Therewasmuchmoneythen.ThePerrotfamilywasontherightsideoftherevolution.”
“Whydoyouwanttobringitback?”Iaskedher.“Itseems…”
“Impossible.Iknow,”shesaidsimply.“ButwhatelsecanIdo?Sellit?Towhom?Newownersmighttearitdown.Iwasborninthishouse,rightinthatupstairsroomthere.”Shepointed.“MybrotherandIplayedinthiscourtyard.Wewerenotafraidofher,theghost.Mybrother,Maris,namedherPolly.SuchanAmericanname.”
Shesighed.“Ihaveanewfamilyherenow.Youcan’tthrowoutfamily.Wherewouldtheylive?Binghasbeenhereforthirtyyears.Karljustaslong.Jacques,ah,Iwishyoucouldhavemethim.HediedlastChristmas,buthe’dbeenhereevenlonger.”Hersmilewaswistful.“Hewasmybrother-in-law.HemovedinwhenHubertandIfirstmarried,andafterthedivorce,well,hestayed.Hewaslovely.”Shelookedaroundthecourtyard.“Veracameherealmosttenyearsago.Shewas…Thingswereverybad.Shehadnowhereelsetogo.Nowsheishappyandhasagoodjobandismakingamends.Thisisherhome,too.”
Ilookedaroundandthenup.Isawthatthethird-flooratticwindowsweremuchnewerthantherest,wideexpansesofglass.
“Bingputthoseinwhenhefixedtheroof,”shesaid.“Heneededthelighttowork,hesaid.”
“Hefixedtheroof?”Iasked.
“Yes.Itwasahugejob.Iamsogratefultohim.Formanythings.”
“Hesaidyoulethimlivehererent-free.”
“Andhehaspaidmebackmanytimesover.”Sheranherhandsthroughhergraycurlsandshookherself.“Iamgettingverysentimental.Come,let’slookupstairs.Bingspoketomethismorningandsaidyouwantedwhitewallsandfluffypillows.Ithinkthatisverygood.Itrustyou,Lucy.Iknowyouwillmakegoodchoices.”
Sheturnedandwentbackinside.Istoodinthecourtyard,andintheunnaturalstillness,Icouldfeeltheweightofhistory,offamily,ofpromiseskeptandpromisesbroken.Itookadeepbreath.Yes,therewassomethinghere.Somethingthathadnothingtodowithrebrandingahotelorrebuildingmyreputation.
Shehadtalkedabouthernewfamily.Wasthatevenpossible?Myownfamilyseemedveryfaraway,withnotjustanoceanbetweenusbutyearsofresentment,anger,anddisappointment.Isometimesfeltthattheylivedinmyhead,ratherthaninmyheart.HowmuchoftheircoldnesswasIsupposedtoforgive?
“WhatamIdoinghere?”Iwhisperedintothewarmthandsunlight.
Iwaitedforsomething:atouch,awhisperintheair,anykindofasign.
“Areyoucoming?”Claudinecalled.
IwalkedbackintoHotelParadis.ChapterFour
ClaudineandIwenttobuypaint.
ShehadashortconversationwithBingbeforeweleft.Aswewalkedacrossthecourtyard,sheexplainedtheverysimplesecuritysystem.Thegateslockedautomatically.Theycouldbepushedopenfrominsidethecourtyard,buttoopenthemfromthestreetrequiredacode.
“Itis230663,”sheexplained.“EmpressJoséphine’sbirthday.Ifyouforget,justpushtheredbutton.Thebellsoundsinsidethehotel,outinthegarden,andupinBing’srooms.Someoneisalwaysaroundtoanswer.”
Wethenwalkedtoametrostation,whereshepurchasedacardformeandexplainedhowitallworked,andweemergedashortridelaterinadecidedlycommercialarea,crowdedandnoisy.TheFrenchversionofahardwarestorewasnarrowandbadlylit,butsheknewtheproprietor,andaftertakingseveralpaintsamplecardsoutintothesunlight,wedecidedonthreedifferentshadesofwhite.Yes,that’sright,three.Fromalmostthirty-fourdifferentchoices.Perhapsalesserwomanwouldhavecrumbled,butIknewexactlywhatIwanted,andClaudineapproved.Creamywhitewalls,adeepercreamforallthewoodwork,andabrightwhiteforthebathrooms.
“Allthebathroomsarethesame,black-and-whitetileonthefloor,andwhitefixtureseverywhere.Wehavewhitetowels.Thisisagoodchoice.Whycomplicatethings?”shesaidapprovingly.
“Agreed,”Isaid.“That’sthewallsandtrim.Whataboutcurtains,bedding,allofthat?”
“Whatdoyouwant?”sheasked.Iwastryinghardtolistentoher,butIwaswalkinginFrance,andthestreetswereunlikeanythingIhadseenbefore,theenergypalpable,andtheflowofalanguageIcouldnotcompletelyunderstanddidnothingtodampenmyexcitement.ThiswasFrance
“Lucy,IfeelIdonothaveyourattention,”shesaid.
Itriedtolookapologetic,butIwastoobusygawkingatthestorefronts,intocaféwindows,andatthecrowdsofpeoplerushingby.“I’veneverbeentoFrancebefore,”Itoldher.“I’mtryingnottobeatourist.”
Shegrabbedmyelbowandsteeredmetowardatinycafétable.“Thensit.Wewillhavecoffee.Orwine?It’slunchtime.Let’seat,andyoucanwatchallthepeople.Wewilltalk.”
Isankgratefullyintothewoodenchairandfeltmywholebodyrelax.“Iwantthewindowsframedwithcurtainsthatarewhiteandflowing.Linen,Ithink,wouldbebest.Simplelinesbutlotsofvolume.Thatkindofthingsaysluxury.Wherecanwegetsomethinglikethat?”
“Verawillmakethem,”shesaid,sinkingintothechairbesideme.“Doyoutrustmetoorderthefabricforyou?”
“What?Ohyes.Absolutely.Whocanmakewhat?”
“VeraSidibe.Shelivesatthehotel.She’saverytalentedseamstress,withanexcellentsewingmachine.We’llgetherallthelinensheneeds,andshe’llmakewhateverwewant.”
TherewasaratherlengthyexchangebetweenClaudineandthewaiter,soItookthetimetowatchaveryelegantolderwoman,easilyinhereightiesbutwalkingsprightlyinbeautifullymadehighheels.Shewasdressedinsimpleblack,hercroppedgrayhairrufflinginthebreeze.
“Howdotheydoit?”Iaskedasthewaiterleft.“Allthesewomenlooksoeffortlessandputtogether.WomeninNewYorkalwayslooklikethey’reworkingatit.”
Claudinelaughed.“WomeninFrancehave,fordecades,beenapplaudedfortheirchic.Theyhavenothingtoprove.”
“RaoulsaidthatVerawasunreliable,”Isaid.
Claudinemadeaface.“Raoulisalovelyboy,butheisalsoaracist.Verahasblackskin,sohethinksshecandonothingright.”
“Oh.But…hesaidshewasanalcoholic.”
“Sheis.Shealwayswillbe.Butshehasbeensobernowforalongertimethanshewasnot.Thatishisexcuse.Youngmencanbeverystupid.Ah,here’sourcider.CiderisveryBreton,andyoumustgetusedtolocaltradition.Letusdrinktoallourlovelypaint,yes?”
Wetouchedourglasses.Theciderwascoldanddelicious.
“Ihavebedlinens,”shesaid.“Sheetsandsuchthathavebeensaved.Andquilts.Handmadequiltsthatmyauntstitchedherself.”
“Liketheoneonmybed?”Iasked.“Thatoneisbeautiful.”
“Thankyou.Theyareallbeautiful.Theyareoldbuthavebeenstoredproperly.Ihavepaintings,”shesaid,sittingback.“Inatemperature-controlledunit.Somethingsmustbecarefullytended.Andrugs.Doyouknowthattherearehand-knottedrugsthatarehundredsofyearsold?Someobjectsaremorethanobjects.Theyareatestamenttothededicationofartisansandcraftsmen.Theyremindusthatbeautyhasbeenaroundforcenturiesandwillremainlongafterwearegone.WhentheoriginalestateofthePerrotfamilyburned,manythingswerepulledoutandsaved.That’swhatservantsdidfivehundredyearsago,savedthemasters’valuables.Someofthesethingshavenotseenthelightofdaysincebeforethewar.Itistime.”
“You’vebeenpayingforstorageforthatlong?”
Sheshrugged.“Myfatherpaid.Thenmybrotherpaid.Andwhenhedied,itfelltome.”Sheleanedforward.“EverythingwashiddenawaywhentheNaziscame.Whenitwassafe,basementswereemptiedandeverythingcameback,buttherewasnomoneytoreopenthehotel.Myfathermadesurethatnothingwassoldoff.Theywenthungryinthewinters,myauntsanduncles.Theyearsafterthewarwereveryhard
Aplatewassetbeforeme.
“Anothertradition,”Claudineexplained.“It’scalledagalettesaucisse.Itisasausagesurroundedbyacrêpemadeofbuckwheat.Youeatitlikea—whatistheAmerican?—hotdog.Eatthislikeahotdog.”
Ipickeditupgingerlyandtookabite.FlavorsexplodedinmymouththatIhadneverexperiencedbefore.Iamnevergoingtoloseweight,IthoughtasItookanotherbite.
Claudinelaughed.“Itisverygood.Itrytomakethegalette,butIamaterriblecook.Luckily,Stavroswillkeepyoufed.Andwewillbuyyoubreadandcheeseforyourroom.Youmaywanttocookafewthingsforyourself.”
Iswallowedandtookanotherswigofcider,andasIdid,IwonderedwhatthealcoholcontentwasbecauseIfeltabitofabuzzinthebackofmybrain.“There’snorefrigerator.”
“We’llfindone.”
“Andthere’snodresserformyclothesoracomfortableplacetosit.”
Shetiltedherhead.“Isupposeyouareusedtosomethingverydifferent?”
Inodded.“Very.Iunderstandthatthisisaveryunusualsituation,butIneedtofeelcomfortable.Thisisgoingtobemyhomeforatleastthenextsixmonths,andIdon’twanttodreadit.”
“Ofcourse.Youcanhaveyourpickofanythingwehaveforyourownrooms.Wewillgetyouarefrigerator.Infact,there’sprobablysomethinginthecellar.”
“Weneedelectronics.”
“What?”
“Televisions.”
Shefrowned.“Ineveryroom?”
Inodded.“Itwillbeexpected.AndWi-Fi.”
Sheshrugged.“Thatisnotaproblem.Andwehave—whatdoyoucallthem—knickknacks?”
Ishookmyhead.“No.Nothingthatcanfitinasuitcaseandbecarriedout.”
Herfrowndeepened.“Really?”
“Really.Butwecanuseplantsandflowers.”
“That’seasy.”
“Notjustforoutsidebutintherooms.”
Shenodded.“Ofcourse.Karlplantedmanyseedsthisspring,sowewillsoonhavecutflowersforeveryroom.Hecomplained.Heinsistedthatthegardenwashisdomain.Ihadtoremindhimthatitis,infact,mydomain.”Shesmiled,buttherewassteelbehindthoseredlips.
TonyFieldinghadalsobeenmadeofsteel.Heranhiscompanywithskillandruthlessdecisiveness.HeoftensaidthatTheFieldingHotelwasmorethanjustaname,itwashislegacy.Butgreedandweaknesshaderodedwhatevergoodintentionshehadstartedwith,andhehadlethislegacycollapseunderdebtandscandal.
IcouldtellthatClaudineCapu?onwouldneverletthathappen.HotelParadiscarriedafamilyhistorydatingbackcenturies,andshewasthesoleprotectorofthathistory.Itwasindeedherdomain.Shewouldnotletanyoneforgetthat.
Includingme.
WewerebackinfrontofHotelParadis.
“Weneedtodosomethingaboutallthisrust,”Isaid,lookingupatthegate.“Wecan’thavethisbethefirstimpressionpeoplehave.”
Shenodded.“Yes.Colinwilldothis.Heisgoodatthetiresome,fiddlythings.”
Wepushedthroughthegate.Thecourtyardwasstillandpeacefulinthesunlight.Icouldseethewhitecatcurledupinhisplanter,asleep.
“Isthatthehotelcat?”Iaskedaswewalkedtothefrontdoor.
Shereacheddowntostrokethecat’sfur.“Yes.ThisisNapoléonBonaparte.EverycatwehaveisnamedNapoléonBonaparte,andtheyarealwayswhite.Heisfriendly,foracat.”
Napoléonopenedoneeye,blinkedslowly,thensettledbacktosleep.
Wewentintothelobbyandbackdownthecorridor.Raoulwasstillbusy,nowusingatroweltospreadplasteroverthevariousholesinthewall.Helookedatusbriefly,thenwentbacktowork.
“Ithinkweneedtogetabitofworkdone,youandme,”Claudinesaid.“Letmechange,andthenwecanlookatthefurniture.ItoldBingtotakethetarpsoffallthosepiles.Wecanseehowusefulhe’sbeen.”
Iwentbacktomyappartandgrabbedmypenandnotebook.Makinglistsalwayssoothedme,andIwentbackintothehotelfeelinglikeanadventurerbeginningatreasurehunt.Binghadmentionedantiquesandarmoires,andIimaginedfindingmahoganyandrosewood,hand-carvedandlovinglycrafted.
Claudinecalledtome.“Haveyoubeendownstairs?”
No,Ihadn’t.Wewentthroughthekitchen,whichwassmallerthanIhadexpected,gleamingstainlesssteel,andspotlesslyclean.Weturneddownanarrowstonestaircaseandwalkedintoanothercentury.
Therewerefluorescentlights,butthatdidlittletomakemethinkIwasinanythingbutanineteenth-centurywinecellar.Thewallswererough,thefloorsflagstone,andthebeamedceilinglowanddark.Theairwassurprisinglyfreshanddry,andIcouldfeelafaintbreeze.
“Thatdoorthereleadsoutside,”Claudinesaid,pointing.“Allthelaundrywasdonedownhere.Thereusedtobegianttubswherewomenchurnedthewashlikebutter;thenitwouldbewrungoutinamachinethatlookedlikeamedievaltorturedevice.Theneverythingwasbroughtuptodryalongthesideofthehouse.Thatisthesouthside,andthereissunallday.”
NowtherestoodarowofstainlesssteelwashersthatwerealmostastallasIwas,andasmanyindustrialdryers.Alongtablerandownthecenterofthespace,witharcheddoorwaysalongthewalls.
“Westillhavewinehere,”shesaid,goingthroughoneofthearchways.“Come.”
Here,singlebulbsdangledfromswayingwires,andasshepulledthefrayedstringofone,awallofwineappearedfromthedarkness,rowuponrowofdustybottleslikesoldierslyingdownforarest.
“Oneday,beforeweopen,Iwillhavesomeonecomedownandlook.Therearebottlesherethatwerelaiddownbeforethewar.”Claudinepulledoutabottle,wipedthedust,andsquintedatthefadedlabel.“Nineteenthirty-two.Thismightbevaluable.Itdependsonthevintage,ofcourse.Badwinedoesnotimprovewithage.”
Shewentbackintothevastlaundryroomandlookedaround.“Wewillhavesomeonecomethreetimesaweektodothewashing.Wehaveanobsceneamountoflinenhere,enoughsheetstochangethebedseverydayforamonth.”Imusthavelookedskepticalbecauseshelaughed.“Frenchlinenlastsgenerations,Lucy.Andmygreat-grandmotherhadabitofahoardingproblem.Onceayear,shewouldmakeamysterioustriptoanabbeyinNiceandreturnwithmoreandmoresheetsandpillowcases.Mymotherrememberedthehotelbeforethewar.Shehelpedmakethebeds,andsheusedtosaytheclosetsoverflowed.Theystilldo.”
Wewentupanothersetofstairs,theoneleadingoutside.Westeppedintobrilliantsunlight,andIcouldseeafewremainingclotheslinesrunningbetweenthesideofthehotelandthewall.Theflagstoneswereuneven,andmanywerebroken.
“So,thisiswhatthosefewsecond-floorroomslookdownon?”Iasked.“Bingsaidtherewasnoview,andhe’sright.Butweneedtodosomethingelsehere.Wecan’taffordanyuselessspace.”
Sheshrugged.“Thestablerowisthatway,andyoucanjustwalkaroundthecornertheretogettothefrontcourtyard.”Shelookedintheotherdirection,wheretherewasasolidwall.“Theinsidecourtyardisthere.Thiswasforlaundry.Whatelsecanweuseitfor?”
“Wedon’thavetouseitforanything,”Isaid.Wejusthavetomakeitlookgoodtoguestslookingoutthewindow,Ithought.“HowgoodagardenerisyourKarl?”
“Itishispassion.”
“Okay,then,whataboutthosefruittreesthatgetplantedagainstthewalls?”
“Espalier?”
“Yes.CanKarldothat?”
Shebegantosmile.“I’msure.”
“Wecanplantroseshere,withlavenderandboxwood.Wecanmakesomesortofdesign.Pullupthesebrokenflagstonesandcreateapatternthatyou’llbeabletoseefromthewindows.”
Shereachedoverandgavemeaquickhug.“Thatisbrilliant.Ofcourse.Andwecanhaverosestobringintotheroomsallsummerlong.Ineverwouldhavethoughtofthat.I’vebeenstaringatthisuglyyardforyears,thinkingitwasuseless.Intwominutes,youhavemadeitintoatreasure.”
Ibegantoscribbleinmynotebook.“Whatshouldwegrow?Applesandpears?DoapricotsgrowinFrance?Wecanofferguestsfreshfruitinthemorningfromourownlittleorchard.”
Shelaughed.“Itwillbeafewyearsbeforewegetanyfruit.”
“That’sfine,”Isaid,stillwriting.Ihadtoresearchespalier.Roses—theywouldhavetobebeautifulbutalsosmelllikeheaven.AndwastheregardendesignsoftwareIcoulddownloadforfree?
Iignoredthelittlevoiceinthebackofmyhead,remindingmethatImightnotbehereinafewyears.
ThefurnitureClaudineandIuncoveredwasexactlythetreasuretroveI’dimagined,withavastandvariedassortmenttochoosefrom.Mostofthewoodenpieceswereobviousantiques,dustybutingoodrepair.Bedsrangedfromelaboratefour-posteraffairstosimple,classicsleighbeds.Allthemattresseswouldhavetobereplaced,butshe’dwarnedmeaboutthat.Everyroomhadeitherastandingwardrobewithacombinationofhangingspaceandbuilt-indrawersoranarmoireforhangingandasmalldresser.Thereweredesksandtablesofvaryingsizes,somesimple,someinlaidwithmarbleorcontrastingwood.ItookpicturesofeachpiecewithmyphonesoIcouldmixandmatchmoreeasily.
Theupholsteredpiecesweretheproblem
“Thischairhasbeensittingherefordecades,Claudine.Thereareprobablybugslivinginthecushions.”
Sheshookherhead.“Everythreemonths,Icomeintoeachoftheserooms.Itakethecushionsoffandshakethemout.Ihaveabrush,andIbeatthedustoutofthefurniture.Thisfabricisperfect.Ithasn’tseensunlightinyears,see?Notfadedatall.”
“Butbugs…”
Sheglaredatme.“Therearenobugsinmyhotel.Therehasbeennodamagefromthedamp,exceptwhentheroofleaked,butwhateverwasruinedwastakenaway.Everythinghereisgood.”
Shemayhavebeenright.Therewasnosignorsmellofmoldordampness,andasIsatononeofthechairs,nocloudofdustrose.Andthepieceswerebeautiful.TherewereclassicLouisXVchairsinrosewoodandpale,stripedsilk.Wingchairsinfloraltapestry.Slipperchairstrimmedwithdelicatefringe.Slopedchannel-backchairsinlushgreenvelvet.Agracefulchaiselongueingolddamask.
“Haveyouseenanythingthatyouwant?”sheaskedatlast.
Iwasfilthyandexhausted,andwehadonlymadeourwaythroughhalftheroomsonthefloor,butIfeltasthoughIhadaccomplishedquiteabit.
“Iwant?Oh,right.Ah,I’mnotsure.”
Wewerebackinthehallway.“Sendmethepicturesofwhatyouwant,andIwillhaveEliotbringthemover.”Claudinelookedatme.“Ithinkyouhavedoneenoughfortoday.Youlookverytired.Anditislate!Iamsorry.”Shetookoutherphone.“Wedidnotgetyoubread.Orcheese.IwillaskMarieClaudetopickthemupforyou.Andwine,ofcourse.Youcaneatatthecaféacrossthestreet.Stavroswillfeedyou.Heisamarvelouscook.”
Iwasstartingtofeelmymusclesachejustabit,butIknewthey’dbescreamingbeforethenightwasthrough.ThiswasmorephysicalworkthanI’ddoneinthepasttwoyears.Iwassuddenlygratefulforthatclaw-foottub.
“Willyoubearoundtomorrow?”Iaskedheraswewentdownintothelobby.
Sheshrugged.“Ishouldbe.Ihavenotgottenanyfranticmessages,somaybemyofficehasnotburneditselftotheground.”Shesuddenlyreachedoverandgavemeaquickhug.“Thankyou,Lucy.Thiswasagoodfirstday.Eatsomething.Takealong,hotbath.Youwillfeelsomuchbetter.”
“Yes.Well,goodevening,Claudine.Thisisquitealovelyhotelyouhavehere.Ithinkwecanmakeitarealsuccess.”
Sheputherhandonmyshoulder.“Iknowwecan.”
Iwatchedhergobackintothehotel.Herhome.Itookadeepbreathandstartedtowardminewhenamandartedoutofthegarden.Hewastinyandstooped,withablackyarmulkepinnedtoahaloofwhite,bushyhair.
“Wait,”hecalled.“AreyouLucia?Wait.”
Hehurriedacrossthecobblestonesandgrabbedmyhandinbothofhis.“KarlLevi.Iamsogladtomeetyou.Bingsaidyouwerequitelovely,andhewasright.Andmygarden?Youlikemygarden?”HisaccentwasGermanratherthanFrench,andhespokeslowly.“IwillhelpyouallIcan.Icanstilldomuch,eventhoughIamanoldman.”Hegrinned,hiswateryeyesdancing.“Iamyounginmymind,evenifmybodydoesnotalwaysagree.”
Inhisshabbyclothesandroughboots,helookedlikeagardengnome,andheradiatedenergy.Ifoundmyselfsmilingdespitemygrowingfatigue,thinkingitoddlyappropriatethatthislittlemanwouldsoeasilyfittheroleofgardener.
“It’sarealpleasuretomeetyou,Karl.ClaudineandIhaveafewprojectsforyou.Wewantarosegarden.”
Hecontinuedtoholdmyhand.“Excellent.Mostexcellent.Ihavewantedarosegardenformanyyears.Youwereonyourwaybacktoyourroom?Iwillnotholdyouup.Butyoushouldcomeby.Iaminnumberone,rightthereinfront.Afterdinner?Haveadrinkwithme?”
“I’mverytired,Karl,butifIhaveanyenergyleft,I’lltry.”
Heheldmyeyesforafewseconds,thenshookhimselfanddroppedmyhand.“YouremindmeofsomeoneIknewlongago.Iwilltrynottostare.WelcometoHotelParadis.Wehavebeenwaitingforsomeonelikeyouforalongtime.”
“I’mgladtobehere.Thankyou.Excuseme,butIneedabath.”
Islippedawayfromhimandcrossedthecourtyard.NapoléonBonapartejumpedoutofhiscast-ironpotandwrappedhimselfaroundmyanklesbeforeslippingoffintothegarden.Icouldhearnoisecomingfrominsidethehotelandthesoundofawoman’slaughtercomingfromflatnumberthree.Wasn’tthatColin’sflat?Washeentertainingaguest?DidIevencare?
Iwentthroughmyowndoorandsatinthestiffwoodenchair.IscrolledthroughthepicturesofthefurnitureandsentafewofthemtoClaudine.Anoverstuffedchair,asmall,roundtable,andalowdresser.Thatwouldmakeagoodstart.
Iwentintothebathroom,pulledallmytoiletriesoutofthebottomofthetub,andbegantofillit.I’ddiscoveredthattherewasplentyofhotwatertobehad,butIwantedadeepsoak,notaquickshower.
Idugthroughmypileofbathsoaps,lookingforsomethingscentedwhenitsuddenlystruckme.
BinghadtoldKarlIwaslovely.
Iwasinthetub,possiblynapping,whenIheardaloudknockingonthedoor.
Nowwhat?Whocouldwanttoseemeortalktome?Hadn’tIalreadyexhaustedallthepossibilities?
Ipulledmyselfoutofthetepidwaterandgrabbedatowel.Thetowels,bytheway,werefabulous—thickandsoftandbigenoughtowraparoundmybodywithplentytospare.
AtthedoorwereEliotandMarieClaude.Atleastthat’swhoIassumedtheywere.Theybothlookedtobeintheirtwenties.Hewasroughlythesizeofabrownbear,andshewastiny,hairdyedbrightblue.Shewascarryingaburlapbag,andIcouldseeabaguettestickingoutofthetop.HewascarryingtheoverstuffedchairIhadclaimedasmyown
Ibackedawayfromthedoor.“Comein,please.Canyougivemeaminute?I’llputonsomeclothes.”
Eliotdroppedthechairinthecenteroftheroom,saidhello,andleft.
MarieClaudesmiled.“We’llbeback,”shesaidinEnglish.“Heisgoingtogetyourdresser.Hereissomefood.Takeyourtime.”Shelefttheburlapsackonthechairandfollowedhimout.
Iwentbackintothebedroom.WhileIhadhungmostofmyclothes,anythingthatdidn’tbelonginthearmoirewasstillinasuitcaseonthefloor.Ipulledonsomeunderwearandasimplecottondress,thendartedintothebathroomforaquicklookinthemirror.WhenIdidn’tburstintotears,Ihurriedout.
Therewasbreadinthesack,butterwrappedinbrownpaper,afewchunksofunidentifiablecheese,threebottlesofwine,andabasketofstrawberries.Therewasnothingtostoreanythingin,soIlinedupmygroceriesonthetable.I’dneedsomesortofcupboard.I’dalsoneeddishes,glasses…WasIevergoingtocookonthattinystove?ThenI’dneedpotsandbowlsandallsortsofutensilsthatIhadn’thadanyuseforinyears.Mymother,inthetwoyearsI’dlivedbackathome,hadneverletmeinherkitchentodoanythingmorethantakefoodoutoftherefrigeratororputawaycleandishes.Herkitchenhadbeenherkingdom,andevenifIhadn’tbeencompletelyinept,Iwasnotwelcome.
IreachedforthewineandrealizedIdidn’tevenhaveanythingtoopenitwith.Iclutchedthebottleinmyhand,sankintothelovely,overstuffedchairthatwastheonlycomfortablethingtositon,andfelttearsbuilding.
Mybodyhurt;musclesthathadnevermovedsomuchasatablelampintwoyearsmoanedinprotest.Istaredatthepalmsofmyhands.Ihadblisterscomingup.Iwassotired.Iwashungrybutcouldn’tslicethebread.Ididn’thavesomuchasajamjartodrinkmywineoutof,evenifIcouldopenit.
Iwasgoingtohavetostartpaintingroomssoon,andwhataboutthatwebsite?WasthatVerapersonreallygoingtosewdrapesforallthoserooms?Allthatfurniture—butwhataboutthesalonandfurnishingsfortheofficeandthenoutsidetablesandchairs?Karlwasagardener.Couldhealsooverseeplantingallthepotsandurnsbesidesarosegardenandespalier?AtleastthatwouldbeoneitemIcouldtakeoffthelist,but…
Asobbrokethrough,andIknewthatifIletoneout,atorrentwouldfollow.Iheldmybreath.Thatdidn’thelp.Nothingwasgoingtohelp.Iletmyheadfallback,closedmyeyes,andstartedtobawl.
“Lucia?”Someonewasthere,aman.Bing?“Lucia,areyouhurt?”Thenhebegantoyell.
Iopenedmyeyes,andthroughawashoftears,IsawEliotpushingthedresserintothecenteroftheroomonahandtruck.Thenhedroppedononekneeinfrontofme,grabbedmyhand,andbegantopatit.MarieClauderushedin,looked,pulledEliottohisfeet,andleaneddown.“Whatiswrong?Whatdoyouneed?”
Ipushedthebottleofwineather.“Acorkscrew,”Isobbed.“Idon’thaveacorkscrew.”
Shesaidsomethingoverhershoulder,andEliotpracticallyranout.“Wewillgetyouacorkscrew,”MarieClaudesoothed.“Whatelse?”
“G-g-glasses.Idon’thaveglassesoradishoranything.Ican’tevenc-c-cutthisbread!”Iwasinfull-outwailingmodenow,butsheremainedunruffled.
“Wewillgetyourglasses,Lucy.Andaknife.Claudineshouldhavethoughtthisoutabitmore.”Shestoodup,wipingherhandsonthefrontofherflowereddress.ShelookedoutthedoorwayandspokesharplytosomeonetogetClaudine.Shewasobviouslyreelingoffalistasshepointedandthenwavedherhands.“Don’tworry,Lucy.Wewilltakecareofyou.”
Ifeltasurgeofemotionatherwords.ThelasttimeIhadheardanyonesaythattome,ithadbeenajuniorlawclerkashetookmycheckforthe$100,000thatwasusedasmyretainer.TakingcarewassomethingIhadalwaysdoneformyself,andthethoughtofsomeoneelsewillingtotakeiton—forfree—wasoverwhelming.Iusedbothhandstowipe
“Nonsense.Ilovetocry.Itgetsoutallthepoison.”Shelookedaround.“Youdon’tevenhaveatissue?”Shewenttothedoor,stuckoutherhead,andmumbledsomethingtosomeonejustoutside.Thereappearedtobeabitofanargument,butshejustmumbledsomemore.Shecamebackandwentintothebathroom,returningwithmydamptowel.
“Here.Usethisfornow.Youpoorthing,didsheevengiveyouonedaytosettlein?Ilovethatwoman,butreally…”
Icoveredmyfacewiththetowelandscrubbedhard.Itookseveraldeepbreaths,andafterwhatseemedtobeaverylongtime,Iletthetoweldropandlookedup.
Iwassurrounded.MarieClaudewasstillinfrontofme,herbrowneyeswide.Eliotstoodbehindherholdingacorkscrewandthreewineglasses.Karlwasthere,hishandsclaspedandbrowfurrowed.Colinhadalong-bladedknifeinonehandandaboxoftissuesintheother.Andthere,justinsidethedoorway,stoodBing,holdingastackofplainwhitedishes.
“Better?”MarieClaudeaskedgently.
Inodded.“Thankyou.Yes.”Ilookedattheconcernedfacesaroundme.“I’mtired,”Isaid,thelamestofallexcuses,butnooneseemedtonotice.
Eliotwentovertothetableandbegantoopenthebottleofwine.Colinsetdownhisknifeandhandedmethetissues,whichItookgratefully.Bingcarriedthedishesovertothesink,lookedaround,thenwentoutagain,takingColinandthehandtruckwithhim.
“We’llberightback,”hesaidoverhisshoulder.
Karlbegantoslicethebaguette.“Lowbloodsugar,”hesaidsolemnly.“Eatsomethingandyouwillfeelbetter.”Hehandedmeasliceofbreadsmearedwithaboutaninchofbutter,andIhadnevertastedanythingmorecomfortinginmylife.
Ifinishedthebreadinsilence,thentookaglassofwinefromEliot.MarieClaudewhisperedsomethingtohim,andheleft.
“Youshouldprobablygoacrossthestreet,”MarieClaudesaid.“Stavroswillgiveyousomethinghotanddelicious,andthenyoucanhaveagoodnight’ssleep.I’msurethingswilllooksomuchbetterinthemorning.”
Idrankallthewineinonegulpandnodded.“You’reright.Ishouldeat.”Istoodup.“Thankyouagain.MarieClaude?”
Shenodded.“Yes.Thatisme.Itisapleasuretomeetyou,Lucy.Truly.Goandeat.We’llstraightenupinhere.Go.Please.”
Ileft.IfIpassedanyoneasIcrossedthecourtyard,itdidn’tevenregister.Idon’tthinkIwouldhavenoticedanelephantifithadbeenperchedinNapoléon’scast-ironpot.
Isatalonebythewindowofthecafé.Stavroscameovertogreetme,ignoringmyredeyesandtearstainedfaceashesuggestedroastchicken.Inoddedandsippedthewinehehadbroughtover.
Well.Ifinallymetmyneighbors.Perfect.ThesewerethepeoplewhoweresupposedtobehelpingmeintheimpossibletaskofrevivingHotelParadis,andIsatthere,blubberinglikeababyoverthelackofacorkscrew.Thatwascertainlyagreatstart.
Twoglassesofwinewereprobablymylimit,butIhadathird,andboy,didIfeelsomuchbetterbythetimemydinnerwasinfrontofme.Ithinkitwasdelicious.
Isatlongaftermymealwasdone.ThecaféwasalmostemptywhenIfinallywalkedbacktothehotel.IhadwaiteduntilIthoughteveryonewouldbesettledbackintotheirrespectiveappartements.Icertainlydidn’twanttomeetanyoneinthecourtyardaftermyearlierdisplayofcompleteandutterlackofself-control.HadIreallycriedaboutnothavingacorkscrew?
No.Ihadcriedforastockpileofprofessionalandpersonalinjuries,realandimagined,thathadallcometogetheroverfatigue,asenseofoverwhelm,andabottleofwine.
Thecourtyardwasemptyandquiet.Iwalkedquicklytomydoor.Therewasalightburninginthewindow,butthatwasstrangebecauseIdidn’thavealightbythewindow.Ipushedopenthedoorthinking,Aretherelocks?ShouldIaskforone?Ididn’twantpeopletojustopenthedoortomynewhomeanddo…whatever
Theoverstuffedchairwasinfrontofthewindow.NexttoitwasthesmalltableI’daskedfor.Ontopofthetablewasasmallbrasslamp,shiningwarmly.
Thewoodentablewascoveredbyaclothofdeepblue,andinthecenterwasawhitebowlfilledwithoranges.Therewasarefrigeratornexttothestove,roughlythesamesizeastheoneI’dhadinmydormroomatcollege,hummingquietly.Atall,narrowcabinetwithglassdoorssatnexttothesink,andinitwerestackedthewhitedishesandwineglasses.Therewerealsoblue-and-whitemugsandasmallclayflowerpotfilledwithmismatchedcutlery.Therewereafewmorewhitebowls,andinoneofthem,thestrawberriespeekedoutfrombeneathalinentowel.Thewinebottleswereinarowalongthebottomshelf.
OneofthefavoritebooksofmychildhoodhadbeenALittlePrincess,andatthatmomentIfeltjustlikeSarahCrewe,openingthedoortoheratticroomtofindafireburningandwarmfoodwaiting.
Iturnedataquietknockatthedoor.“Yes?”
Claudineopenedthedoor,tookaquicklookaround,andsmiled.“Thislooksmuchbetter.”
Ismiledback.“Yes.”
Claudinelookedapologetic.“I’msorry.Theyreallygaveittome.Ishouldhavegivenyoutimetogetusedtothisplace.Doyouevenhaveanewphone?”
Ishookmyhead.
“Tomorrow,youdowhatyouhavetodo.Walkintotown.Buywhatyouneed.Ifyouwanthelporcompany,takeBingawayfromwhateverhemaybedoing.”Sheglancedoverhershoulder.“MarieClaudeandEliotareinthehotel.Theyhavealreadystartedworkingonourfurniture.Theyareagoodteam.Colinishelpingthemtonight.EvenKarlaskedmewhathecoulddo.Goodnight.”
Sheclosedthedoorbehindher.
Iwentintothebathroomandpeeledoffmyclothes.WhenIcameout,Isawthedressernexttothebed,mysuitcaseonthefloorbesideit.Ontopofthedresserwasaprettyporcelaintray,whitewithroses,justrightforputtingearringsorawatchinbeforegoingtobed.
Maybeeverythingwasn’tgoingtobesohorribleafterall.ChapterFive
IthoughtIcouldslipoutearlybutwasstoppedhalfwaytotheirongatesbyabrisk,commandingvoice.
“AreyouLucy?Claudinetoldmetotalktoyou.Shealsotoldmetobenice.Onethingisharderthantheother,butI’lltry.I’mVeraSidibe.Wecanhavebreakfasttogether.”Shewalkedpastmeandacrossthestreettothecaféand,despitetheslightchillintheair,satatatableoutsidebythecurb.
Ifollowedher.Icouldn’thelpit.Hervoice,inclippedandheavilyaccentedEnglish,wasnottobeignoredorarguedwith.Shewastallandbroad-shouldered,whitehaircutclosetoherbeautifullyshapedskull.Shewasdressedinasleevelessblouseandbluecottonskirt,alongscarfaroundherneckandshoulders.Shealsohadseveralstudearringsinoneearandasinglehoopintheother.
Isatacrossfromher.Hereyeswereveryroundanddark,fringedinshort,straightlashes.Ayounggirlhurriedout,andaquickexchangesentthegirlscurryingback.
“She’sbringingamenu.Iassumeyouwanttolookatone?BreakfasthereisverydifferentfromtheUS.”Veracrossedherarmsunderherrathersubstantialbreasts.“Claudinesaidyouwillwanttobuythings.Aphone?Whatelsedoyouneed?”
Everything,Ithought.“YourEnglishisverygood.”
“MyfamilymigratedtotheStatesfromMaliwhenIwassix.Welivedthereillegallyforalmostfifteenyears.Thenwehadtoleave.ThegovernmentofFrancegrantscitizenshiptoanyoneborninaformerFrenchcolony.So,ratherthanreturntoMali,Icamehere.”Sheflashedasmile.“YourFrenchisverygood.”
“Istudiedinhighschool,thenallfouryearsincollege.ItcameinveryhandywhenIworkedinQuebec.Merci.”Itookthelaminatedmenufromtheyounggirlwhenshereturned.ThemenuwashelpfullyinbothFrenchandEnglishbutwasnoticeablylackingintheusualbreakfaststaplesfoundonamenuintheUS.Missingwereitemslikepancakes,waffles,westernomelets.Andwhat,exactly,waspainauxraisins?
“Needhelp?”Bingasked.HepulledupachairfromthenexttableandsatbetweenVeraandme.Hishairwasdampandbrushedback,andIcaughtawhiffofsomethingspicy.Ormusky.Orboth?“Areyoulookingforsteakandeggs?”Thatlaughterwasinhisvoice.Whatwassofunnynow?
Isnatcheditback.“No,”Isnapped.Iconcentrated.“Ijustdon’tknowwhatpainauxraisinsis.Imean,Igetthegeneralidea,but…”Isquinted.DidIreallythinkthathavingthewordsblurredwasgoingtohelp?
“IwastellingherthatFrenchbreakfastsareprobablydifferentfromwhatshe’susedto,”VerasaidtoBing.
Hemadeakindofcluckingnoise.“Ibeteverythingthathashappenedsinceshegothereisdifferentfromwhatshe’susedto.”
Iglaredathimoverthetopofthemenu,thenshiftedmyeyesastheyounggirlreappeared.
“Simone,thisisLucia.Lucy,”BingsaidinslowEnglish.“SheisatHotelParadisnow.Lucia,SimoneisoneofStavros’sdaughters.”
“Bonjour,Simone,”Isaid.
Shesmiledbrightly.“WeareputtingAmericanthingsonmenunow,”shesaid.HerEnglishwashardtounderstand,butIgotthegist.“Oatmeal.FrootLoops.”
Ihandedbackthemenu.“Justtartineandcafécrème.”ThelastwasforBing’sbenefit,andasIglancedathim,Icaughthissmile.
VeraandBingbothordered,andwesatforafewminutes.Warmsunlightfilteredthroughthetrees,andthetrafficsoundswereveryfaint.Thiswasnice.Itwasanewday.Thesunwasshining,breakfastwascoming,andIwasgoingshopping.Life,atthatmoment,feltverynormal.
“I’mtakinghershopping,”VerasaidtoBing.“Foronething,sheneedsaphone.”
IpulledoutmybelovediPhone.“DoIreally?”
“Well,youneedeverythingswitchedovertoOrange.They’rethebiggestphoneprovider.Butfirst,youneedabankaccount,”Bingsaid.
“Idon’thaveanymoney,”Isaid.“Seriously.IhavelessthanfourhundredUSdollars.”
“That’senough.Youdon’tgetchargedforhavingalowbalanceinFrenchbanks.It’snotallowed.Youcanopenabankaccountwithonedollar.”HeglancedatSimoneasshesetdownourcafécrèmes.“Merci,Simone.Whatelsedoyouneed?”
“Clothes,”Isaid.
Verasatback.“Colincomplainedthatyoursuitcasesweighedaton.”
“Well,he’sright,”Isaid.“Andtheywereallfilledwithclothes.ButwhenIpacked,Ithoughtmyjobwasgoingtoinvolvesittingbackinanice,cushyofficeandpointingmyfingeratthingstogetthemdone.Ihaveplentyofclothesforthat.Butforpaintingandscrubbingandrepairingfurniture…well,notsomuch.”
Bingsnorted,andVeragavehimahardlookasshespoke.“We’llfindplentyatthriftstores.Noreasontospendtoomuchofyourfourhundreddollarsonthosekindsofclothes.So…bank,phone,thrift…whatelse?”
Ilookedattheperfectlytoastedslicesofheavenlysmellingbreadandthesmallportionofdeeppurplejamonthesideoftheplate.CouldIeateverymealhere,ordidIwanttoatleasttrytocookonmyown?
“MaybeIshouldgetsomefood?”Isaid.
“No,”saidVera.“Wait.”
Ispreadabitofjamandtookabiteofmybreakfast.Dideverythingtastethatmuchbetterhere?“Forwhat?”
“Saturdaymarket,”Bingsaid.“I’lltakeyouwhenIgo.It’sanexperienceunlikeanyother.”
Iswallowedafewmorebitesoftoast.“It’samarket?”
“Youwillsee,”Verapromised.“Youwillhavetobringaverybigbag.We’llgetoneofthosetoday,too.”
“Abag?”Thissimpleshoppingexpeditionwasgettingcomplicated.“WhydoIneedabag?”
Bingwaseatinghiswaythroughabowloffruitandtoastspreadthinlywithbutter.“Storesheredon’thavebags.Everyonehastobringtheirown.”
Istaredathim.“What?”
Hechuckled.“LivinginFranceisgoingtotakeabitofanadjustment.Therearehundredsofsmallthingsyou’llhavetogetusedto.Likebringingyourownbagwhenyoushop.”
“Andverygood,verycheapwine,”Verasaid.
“Eggsthatdon’thavetoberefrigerated,”Bingsaid.
“Vegetablesthatlookuglyandtastewonderful.”
“Onlypayingthirtybucksamonthforyourphone.”
Thatgotmyattentionawayfrommyfood.“Really?Thirtybucks?”IaskedBing.
Hegrinned.“Orwhatevertwenty-sixeuroscomesoutto.Andbelieveitornot,thecommunicationscompaniesstillmanagetomakeaprofit.Livinghereisajoy.Sure,thereareproblems,but…”Heshrugged.“Icameherethirty-twoyearsagofromasmalltownoutsideofAtlanta,andI’venevereventhoughtaboutmovingback.”
Ilookedbackdownatmyhalf-eatenbreakfast.WouldIbemovingback?IfImanagedtopullthiswholethingoff,wouldIbelivinginFrancefortherestofmylife?I’dbeensoeagertotakethejobandgetawayfromeverythingthatwasdraggingmedownathome,Ineverthoughtpasttheendofthesix-monthcontract.
“Whydidyoucomehere?”IaskedBing,tryingtodistractmyselffromthinkingtoohardabout…anything.
“Iwasjustoutofartschool.WhereelseshouldIhavegone?”
“Colinsaidyouwereawriter.Kids’books?”
Henodded.“IwrotethemtopaythebillsuntilImademoneyoffmypaintings.AndIaminthemiddleofsomethingrightnow,soImustgo.Vera,Iknowyouworkthisafternoon,soifthereisanythingelsethatneedsdoing,I’monLuciaduty.”Heturnedtome.“I’llbehappytohelpyouorganizethefurnitureifyouwanttofinishthatup.Itookthetarpsoffeverythingandtriedtoputallthepiecesinsomesortoforder.”
“Thanks.Andyoudidagreatjob,bytheway,”Isaid,keepingmyfacestraight.“Offoldingallthosetarps,Imean.Ifthisartthingfallsthrough,thismaybeanewcareerpath.”
Veralaughedoutloud.
“I’llkeepthatinmind,”hesaid,hiseyesdancing.“Goon,ladies.Youhavelotsofthingstodo,andthemorningisslippingaway.”
VeraandIgotupandlefthim,sippingwhatremainedofhiscafécrème,sittingaloneinthedappledsunlight.
Verahadleftmeatthemetrostation,havingtogotowork.Imadeittherestofthewaymyself,proudthatIrecognizedsomeofthestreetsignsandlandmarks.Comingintothecourtyard,mytwomeshbagsloadedwiththriftstorejeansandT-shirts,Isawthedoorstotheright-handstablerowstandingopenwithseveralcansofpaintstackedinfrontofthewoodendoorway.Karlwasmovingthem,oneatatime,ontoshelves.
“Lucy,”hecalledwhenhesawme.“Yourpainthasbeendelivered.”
Iputonabrightsmile.“I’llberightthere,”Ianswered.Iwentintomyappartementanddumpedmypurchasesinthemiddleofthefloor,thenwentouttolook.
Yes,thepaintwasthere,allright.Thereseemedtobethirtyorfortycans,aswellasbrushes,rollers,paintingtrays,everythingneededtopainttwo-hundred-plus-year-oldplasterwalls.
Ohboy.
Karlmoveddeliberately,liningupeachcanonatallmetalshelf,oneatatime.Ihelpedhim,significantlyspeedinguptheprocess,thenlookedaround.
Thiswasobviouslytheworkroomforthehotel.Inadditiontotheshelvesreachinguptothebeamedceiling,therewasalongwoodentablecrowdedwithtools,laddersproppedagainstthewalls,andcardboardboxeswithdescriptionsofthecontentsscrawledinblackmarker,andallalongtheback,variouspotsandgardeningimplements.
“IguessthisiswhereRaoulkeepsallhistools?”Iasked.
“Raoul,yes.Andallofmineaswell.Andmanyyears’worthofotherguestsandworkmen.There’soldfurnitureinsomeoftheotherbays,andmoretools,andlotsofkitchennecessities.Thingstendtofindtheirwayinandneverleave.”Hesmiled.Histeethwerestainedanduneven,andhiswholefaceshone
Iexaminedthepaintcansandpulledoneofftheshelves.“ThisoneisforColin,”Itoldhim.“Alltherustandpeelingpainthastobescrapedoffthefrontgate,anditallhastoberepainted.It’sthefirstthingpeoplewillseewhentheycomeuptoHotelParadis,soitneedstobeperfect.ClaudinesaidColinwouldbetheoneforthejob.”
Hebobbedhishead.“Yes.Colinisverypatient.Iknowthere’sametalbrushheresomewhere.I’llputthisasideforhim.Butwhatabouttherosegarden?”
“Andespalier.Alongthesideyard,wherethelaundrywashung?Claudinesaiditgotsunalldaylong.Thatwouldbegoodforroses,yes?”
Henodded,butdisappointmentchangedhissmile.“Butnoonewillbeabletoseethembackthere.”
“Iwantthemseenfromthesecond-storyrooms.Thereneedstobeaviewtherejustasbeautifulastheroomsthatoverlookthegarden.Whatdoyouthink?”
Hisfacechangedagain,andIcouldseethesparkleinhiseyes.“Wewillhavetodesignfrom,whatisthephrase…bird’s-eye?Thatisachallenge,butIamuptothetask.”
Ibelievedhim.Ihadfaithinhisspirit.“That’sgoodtoknow,Karl.Thankyou.I’mgoingtochange.Ineedtofinishlookingatalltheroomsandfiguringoutthefurniture.”
Henodded,andIwentbackintomyappart,quicklychanged,andwasalmostoutthedoorwhenmycellphonerang.Itookaquicklook.MomandDad.
Itookabreathandswiped,girdingmyselfforanordeal.
Talkingtomyparentswasnotinitselfparticularlytrying,butmyfather’sgraspoftechnologywasdependentonthedayoftheweek,thetimeofday,andthepositionofthemooninrelationtothestars.HeinsistedonFaceTime,andhesatathiscomputerforthecall.Hiscomputerwassooldthathehadaseparatecameraattachedtoit,aswellasaseparatemicrophone.Thatprovidedmultipleopportunitiesforthecameratobepointingtotheceilingorthefloor,ornotturnedonatall.Momwasusuallyinanotherroom,yellingherportionoftheconversation,sothemichadtobepickedupandmovedfromwherehewassittingathisdeskandstretchedasfarasthecordwouldgointhegeneraldirectionofwhateverroommymomwasin.You’dthinkafteryearsofsuchphonecalls,theywouldhavegottensomesortofsystemdown.But…no.
“Hi,Dad.Whattimeisitthere?”
“It’slate,butsinceyounevertoldusyougottheresafely,yourmothermademecall.”
“Dad,ItextedyouthedayIarrived.”
“Whattext?”Icouldhearmymotheryell.
IwatchedasDadpickedupthemicandhelditofftotheleft.Shemustbeinthekitchen.“DadtextedmeandIansweredbackthatIlanded.Didn’tyougetthetext?”Iraisedmyvoice,hopingshewouldhearme.SomeconversationswithMomwereheldatconcertpitch.
“No.Bruno,shetexted?Whydon’tyouevercheckyourphone?Thiscalliscostingmoney.”
“Dad,listen,Igotaphoneplanhere,andIcancallyouforfree.”
“FaceTime?”
Isighed.“No.Doesithavetobe?”
“MaybewecandothatSkypething.DoIhavetodownloadaSkypething?”
“Yes,Dad.Dowereallyneedtoseeeachother?WhenIlivedinOhio,wetalkedallthetimewithoutFaceTime.”
“ThatwasOhio,”mymothercalled.“Nowyou’reinFrance.”
“Yes,butyoucanstillhearmejustthesame.”
“Butyourface,”sheargued.
“Mom,you’realwaysinanotherroom.Youneverseemyface.”
“Iknow,butyourfather.”
“Dad.Really?”
Heputthemicbackdownonhisdesk.“Justaregularphonecall?”
“Yes.”
“Like,onthelandline?”
“Oryourcell,Dad.Whicheveryouprefer.”
“Thelandline.Thatway,Icansitinthekitchenwithyourmother.Maybetomorrow.I’mgladyou’resafe.”
“Good.Quick,beforeIgo,howaretheboys?”Mybrotherswereforty-oneandforty-three,buttheywouldforeverbeboysinmymind.
“Frankiegotapromotion,”Dadsaid.
“Great.Goodforhim.”
“AndJoeyisthesame.”Thesamemeanthewasnotdrinking.Joeynotdrinkingwasabigdeal.Hehadalwayshadadrinkingproblem,andithadintensifiedwhenhiswife,Sara,diedofcancerthreeyearsbefore.Hehadnotpulledhimselfoutofthedeepdepressionthatfollowed.Hehadnotralliedtocareforhistwoconfusedandgrievingdaughters.Buthehadfinallyputhimselfintorehabandbeensoberforalmosteightmonthsnow,andthewholefamilybreathedadailysighofreliefat“thesame.”HistwindaughtersspentmostoftheirtimewithNanaandPopPop,whichwasnotideal.Myparentshadneverbeenwarmanddemonstrative,andthegirlstendedtojustsitintheirroomalldayunlesssomeone,whohadusuallybeenme,tookthemoutforawalk,shopping,anything.Still,itwasbetterthanthembeingaloneinarentedapartment,waitingfortheirfathertocomehome.
“Billycalled!”Iheardmymotheryell.
“Nice,Mom!”Iyelledback.BillywasWilliamForrester,myfirstandonlyhusband.Wemarriedtheweekendafterwebothgraduatedcollege,andhefollowedmefromjobtojobforalmosttwelveyearsbeforefinallyfindingsomeplacehedidn’twanttoleave.Ourpartinghadbeensadbutamicable,andmymotherneverstoppedthinkingofhimasherson-in-law.ProbablybecauseInevergaveheranotheroption.
Mydadrolledhiseyes.“He’sagoodman.”
“Yes,Dad.Verygood.”
“Yourmother,well,youknowyourmother.Listen,Igottago.Iloveyou.”
Inodded.“Iloveyou,too,Daddy.”
Heendedthecall,andIstood,staringatmyphone.
IhadworkedinhotelsacrossNorthAmericaduringmycareer,slowlygainingexperienceandsomethingofareputation.BeforeTheFielding,theweeklyphonecallswithmyparentshadalwaysbeenshortandsweet.Aftermovingbackeast,FaceTimekickedin,eventhoughIlivedonlyfortymilesawayandsawmyparentsonceamonthinsteadofonlythreeorfourtimesayear.NowthatIwasawholeoceanaway…
Istuckthephoneintothepocketofmythriftstorejeans.Theyweremen’sjeansandfitmeprettywellexceptforthelength,butafterrollingupthecuffs,theywerejustfine.MyT-shirtwasalsoaman’ssizeXL,alittletoolarge,butIcouldn’tresisttheAC/DClogo,fadedbutreadable,acrossthechest.
Timetowork.
Iwentbackupstairsandintoaroomoverlookingthebackcourtyard.Istillhadsixroomsfulloffurnituretolookatandaccess,withpicturestotake.IhadnotseenorheardfromClaudine,whichwasashame,becausethetwoofuswouldbemuchfasterthanIwasalone.
ButtherewasBing.
Iknewwherethestairstotheatticwere,tuckedintoacornerrightnexttotheelevator.Iopenedadoortoasteepstairway,andIcouldhearfootstepsabove.
“Bing?”Icalled.“Isthatyouupthere?Ordowehaveanotherghost?”
Iheardhislaughter.“Comeonup.”
Thestairwaywassteepanddark,butasIturnedonthelanding,therewasasuddenfloodoflight,andIfoundmyselfinawide,openspace,awallofwindowslettingintheafternoonsunlight,thesmellofoilpaintandturpentineintheair.
Itwasastudio.Colorwaseverywhere,onthewallsinaseaofpaintings,andafloorcoveredinvibrantorientalrugs.Therewasalong,narrowtabledownthecenteroftheroom,andthreeseparateeaselsstoodbeforethewallofglass.Therewasaclusterofcomfortablechairsaroundalow,roundtable,andatthefarendoftheroom,Icouldseeafour-posterbedbehindathincurtainoflace.
“I’vejustfinished,”Bingsaid.“Seriously.Ijustcleaneduptenminutesago,andIwasonmywaydowntofindyou.What’syourplanfortheafternoon?Iknowyouweretryingtoorganizeallourbedsandchairs.I’mhappytohelp.”
Igazedaroundmeinwonder.TherewereoilportraitsandwatercolorlandscapesofsuchdelicacyandpurityoflinethatIcouldnotfindwordstospeak.Ijustmotionedwithonehand,mymouthhangingopen.
“Yourwork?”Iasked,thenfeltlikekickingmyselfintheteeth.Ofcourseitwashiswork.“Thisis…Imean…Bing,you’regood.”
Hismouthtwitched.“Thanks.Ihappentothinkso,too,butit’snicetogetasecondopinion.Iwasthinkingthat—”
“It’sBoodily!”Isquealed.“BoodilyandFlap!”
Hangingaboveabookcasethatranalongthebackwallwerebeautifulwatercolorsoftwoofthemostfamousandbelovedcharactersinchildren’sbooks.Iknewthembothbecausetheyhadbeenafavoriteofallmynieces,andIhadboughtallthebooks,allthestuffedtoys,alltheDVDsoftheadventuresofBoodilythepigandhisbestfriend,Flaptheduck.Iwalkedovertotakeacloserlook,thensawthebookcaseheldcopiesofthebooks,includingseveralforeign-languageversions.IpulledoutacopyfromRussia,ormaybeTurkey,andranmyhandoverthecover.Thetitlewasunreadabletome,buttheauthor’snamewasclearenough:BingDavis.
Iturnedandstaredathim.“Isthisyou?You’reBingDavis?”
Heshruggedmodestly.“Yes.”
“But…”Islippedthebookbackintoitsplace.TherewereatleasttwelvepicturebooksintheBoodilyandFlapseries,andthreeotherseriesbyBingDavisthatIrecognized,allbeautifullyillustratedandwritteninacharming,whimsicalstyle.“Thisisn’tjustkids’books.Imean,youpracticallyhaveanempire.”
Hethrewhisheadbackandlaughed.“Ineverthoughtofitthatway,butIsupposeyou’reright.Idocontrolsomethingofamediasyndicaterightnow.”
Istared.Washekidding?BoodilyandFlaphadbeenaroundforatleastfifteenyearsandwerestillgoingstrong.Oneofhisotherseries,MarnieandPug,hadreleasedafull-lengthanimatedmoviethatwinter.IknewbecauseIhadseenit,twice,withmyniecesMimiandCara.Books,movies,aCGItelevisionseriesthatwasstillinreruns,toys,avideogame…
“Butyoumustbe—”Doingwell?Loaded?Filthyrich?
Hewavedahand.“Igetby.”
“Thenwhyareyoulivinghere?”Boy,didthatcomeoutwrong.“Imean,don’tyourichwritersliveonoceanfrontestates,surroundedbyminions?”
Helaughedagain,harderthistime.“Possiblybestsellingadultfictionwriters,”hesaidatlast.“ButIhavenointerestinoceanfrontestates.Orminions.Ilovelivinghere.InRennes,inFrance.InHotelParadis.I’msurroundedbyfriendsinavibrantcitythatIknowandenjoy,IcangoanywhereinEuropebyjusthoppingonatrain,andwhenIdogobackhome,Icanindulgeinthebest.”Hestuckhishandsinthefrontpocketsofhisjeans.“WhenIwenttoNewYorktoseemyeditors,IalwaysstayedatTheFielding.”
Imethislook.“Really?”
“Yes.Itwasmyfavoritehotelinthecity.Iwasreallyupsetwhenitshutdown.”
Yeah,Bing.Me,too.“Ididn’trealizetheforeignpresspickeditup.”
“Justinthebeginning.Ispentalotoftimefollowingwhathappenedonline.IlovedTheMillhouse.”
Ifoundmyselfsuddenlychokedup.IhadlovedTheMillhouse,too.ThathadbeenthebarinTheFielding,rightonthegroundflooroffthelobby,asnug,comfortableplacewithleatherbanquettesandframedblack-and-whitephotosofNewYorkCityonthewalls.IthadbeenmyfavoritebarinallofManhattan,andIhadbeeninmanyofthemineightyears.
Inodded.“Jackiedidagreatgimlet,”Isaid.JackFortunahadbeenthebartenderthere.Ihadhiredhim,andIthoughtwewerefriendsuntilthescandalbrokeandhehadsoughtmeout,screaminginmyface,“Youweresleepingwithhim!Howdidyounotknow?”
Henodded.“Yes,hedid.AndIlovedtheconciergethere,thewoman…Phyl?”
Iclearedmythroat.“Yes.PhyllisWentworth.Itsoundslikeyouwerearegular.Whydidn’tweevermeet?IalwaystriedtohaveawordwiththeVIPs.”
Heshookhishead.“Iwasn’taVIP.IwasDavidBingham,artist,fromRennes.”
“Flewinundertheradar?Verycraftyofyou.”
“Itwouldn’thavemadeallthatmuchofadifference.Yourstaffwassuperb.Theytreatedeveryonethesame.”
“Yes.Theywere.Iwasveryproudofthem.”Iswallowedhard.Ihadtoask.“DidyouevermeetTony?”
Hiseyesneverleftmyface.“Afewtimes.Myeditor,JoeWhatley,introducedus.Joelikedtorubelbowswiththelocalcelebs,andTonywasacatch.Ineverlikedhim,though.Tony,Imean.”
WhatcouldIsaytothat?OtherpeoplehadsaidthesamethingaboutTony,andIsawtheirpoint.Tonywascharming,buthewasalsotooglib,tooquickwiththecuttingremark.Ithadn’tmatteredtome,though.IlovedhimjustasfiercelythedayheleftaswhenI’dfirstfallen,yearsbefore,inQuebec,whenwehadmetataconferenceandspent
“Well.”Iclearedmythroat.“Yes,Iwasgoingtotrytofinishthefurnituretoday.Canyouhelp?Itwillgomuchfasterwiththetwoofus.”
Heranhishandthroughhishairashenodded.“Right.Let’sgo.”
Iturned,outofthesunlightandcolor,backdownthenarrowstairs.
“Ilovethisstyleofchair,”Isaid,gettingabitcloserandtakingitspicture.
“It’sabergère.Verycomfortable,”Bingexplained.Hehadbeenseparatingtablesandchairsfromthehuddledpilestheyhadbeeninallafternoon,offeringexplanationsandevendesigntips.“Thisonehere?Itwouldgowellinnumbertwelve.Thecarvingislikethecarvingonthedeskthere.”
“Howcanyouremembersomethinglikethat?”Iasked.
Heshrugged.“I’mveryvisual.”
Ofcourse.Hehadalsoreeledintheskepticismabit,althoughIcouldstillhearthelaughterinhisvoiceifIwaxedtoorhapsodicoveracarvedheadboardordrapeofsilk.
Weshutthedoortothelastroomweneededtolookat.Donefortheday.
“So,howmanychildrendoyouhave?”heaskedasweheadedforthestairs.
“None.WhydoyouthinkIhadchildren?”
Hetiltedhisheadatme.“Well,mostchildlesspeopledonotinstantlyrecognizecharactersfromchildren’sbooks.”
“Ah.Yes,well,Ihavefournieces.Theoldest,Heather,justturnedeighteen.ShewastheperfectagewhenBoodilyandFlapfirstcameout.Iboughtherallthebooks,thenthestuffedanimals…Wasn’tthereafarmyardset?Andthenhersister,Brianne,fellinlove,justlikeshehad.ThebabiesareMimiandCara,nine-year-oldtwins.Theyare,Imustadmit,thelovesofmylife.WesawTheAdventuresofMarnieandPug.InJanuary.Twice.”
“Why,thankyouforyoursupport,”hesaid,bowinggraciously.
Mybackachedandoneoftheblistersonmyhandhadbrokenopen,butIfeltsurerofmyselfthanwhenIhadfirstarrived,sowhenIsmiledathim,itwasn’tforced.“It’sbeenapleasureexploringyourbooksthroughtheeyesofthosegirls.Youhideyourcynicalstreakverywell.”
“Itcomesoutquitestronglyinmymoreseriouswork,”hesaid.“Mylastshowwastheobjectofmuchdiscussion.IbelievetheconsensuswasthatIwasnotaginggracefullybutwasratherfightingtheprocesstoothandnail.”
“That’showI’mfightingit,”Itoldhim.“Ifgrayhairwasn’tsuddenlysofashionable,I’dbechestnutbrownnumbertwenty-fourrightnow.”
Helaughed.“Yourgrayhairisquiteattractive.Please,forgetallaboutchestnutbrownnumbertwenty-four.”
Ifeltmyselfblushing,andasIdid,Iwantedtokickmyself.Really?Slidingdownslowlyintofiftyandasidewayscomplimentlikethatcouldmakemeblush?IfBingnoticed,hedidn’tshowitbutinsteadbenttopickupNapoléonBonaparte,whosatatthetopofthestairs.
“Areyouacatperson?”Bingasked.
Ishookmyhead.“Idon’tknow.I’veneverhadacat.Oradog.”
Heraisedaneyebrow.“You’veneverhadapet?”
Ishrugged.“Mymotherwasallergic,andaftercollege,Imovedaroundtoomuchtofeelcomfortablegettingapet.Andthen,Ilivedmostlyinhotels.Oneoftheperks,youknow.Thegeneralmanagerusuallygotfreeroomandboard.”
HestrokedNapoléon’shead,andthecatcloseditseyes.Icouldhearitstarttopurr.“Ilikecats.Ilovedogs,butadogisnotsuitedtothiskindoflife.Adogneedsgrasstorunaroundinandsquirrelstochase.ButNapoléon—thatis,thisNapoléon—Ilikeverymuch.Areyoudonefortheday?I’mgoingtomakemyselfanespresso.Wouldyouliketojoinme?”
Iwantedabath.Ineededtositdownandgooverallmylists.Iwasitchingtomakesomesortofflowchart,ormaybeanExcelspreadsheet,withallthefurniture.Ismiled.“Thatwouldbegreat.”
Henodded.“Waitformeinthegarden.It’sstillwarmoutthereintheafternoons.Wecansitthere.”
Napoléonjumpedfromhisarms,trottedacrossthelobby,andjumpedoutthroughahalf-openwindow.
“Iseverythingunlockedaroundhere?”Iasked.
“Sometimes.I’llexplain.”
Iwentouttothefrontcourtyard.ItwaslaterthanI’dthought,andtheshadowsweregrowinglong.Iwalkedintothegardenandsatononeofthebenches.Bingwasrightthatitwasnotuncomfortableatall,butIwouldbringinmoreconventionalchairsandsmalltableswithbrightgreenumbrellastoguardguestsagainstthesummersun
Iclosedmyeyesandfeltmybodyrelax.Therewasthefaintsoundoftraffic,andsomewhere,awomanlaughed.WasClaudineback?Ishiftedmyshouldersagainstthewoodenbackofthebench,mentallycheckingoffitemsonmyfurniturelist.Alltheroomshadbeenlookedat.Ineededachartofalltherooms,theirnumbers,andwhatwasneededineach.Then,I’dhavetoplaymusicalchairsandmoveallthepieceswheretheywouldfitthebest.TherugsandartworkClaudinementioned?Thatshouldwaituntilthelastweek,afteralltheroomswerepaintedandpolished,furnituregleaming,linendrapesbillowing…
“Here.”
Iopenedmyeyes,andBingsetasmalltrayonthebenchbetweenus.Twosmallcupsandasilvercoffeepotwithalong,woodenhandle.Hepoured.
“Therearenoairconditioners?”Iasked.
Hestretchedhislegsoutinfrontofhimandtookaquicksip.“No.Itisnotathinghere.Therearealsonoscreens.”
Ifrowned.“But…”
Heshookhishead.“Noscreens.Andaboutthelocks,well,noonecangetinthefrontgatewithoutthecode,sountilnow,everyonehasfeltquitesafe.Ofcourse,onceguestsarrive,thingswillchange.Wewillputlocksonthedoorstoourappartementsandfigureoutawaytosecurethehotel.Wemayneedsomeexpertadviceaboutthat.”
“Yes.Wemight.Idon’thaveanyhands-onexperiencewithsecurity.”Ofcourse,Ihadnohands-onexperiencewithpaintingroomsorcreatingawebsite,butsecuritywasnotmentionedinmycontract,soIfeltonsaferground.
“Howaboutyou?”Iasked.“Anykids?”
Henodded,shiftedonthebench,andcrossedhisankles.“Ason.HeislivinginQuebecnow,workingacrapjobandpainting.I’mprettysurehe’salsostudyingnubileyoungCanadians.”
Ilaughed.“IlivedinMontrealforafewyears.Canadiangirlsarequitelovely.”
Henodded.“SoareCanadianboys.Philippeiswhatyouwouldcallanequalopportunityadmirer.WhiletheSouthernBaptistborn-and-raisedAmericaninmeisshockedandappalled,theFrancophilebohemianartistinmeisquitepleased.ThingsareverydifferenthereinFrance.”
“So,you’redivorced,then?”
Heshookhishead.“HismotherandIwerenotmarried.”
“Butyouareinhislife?”
Helookedsidewaysatme.“Verymuchso.Claudineishismother.”
“What…oh.”Itookanothermouthfulofstrongcoffeeandfeltajoltallthewaytomytoes.“AreyouandClaudinestilltogether?”
“Oh,no.Ouraffairfizzledoutafterfiveorsixyears.Shefinallyendeditbecauseherhusbandinsisted.AndIwasevengettingreadytopackupmycanvasandpaintsandfindanotherplacetolive,buthedecidedtodivorce,anyway,soIstayed.ItworkedoutwellbecausesheandIraisedhimtogether.”
“So,hegrewuphere?Whendidheleave?”
Heglancedatme.“Fiveyearsago.Heranawayfromabrokenheart.”
“Oh,poorPhilippe.”
“Yes.HewasinlovewithMarieClaude.”
Isatupstraighter.“OurMarieClaude?”
“Theverysame.HermotherwasanoldfriendofClaudine’s,andshecameheretolivewhensheturnedeighteen.Problemsathome,Ibelieve.ShefellinlovewithPhilippe,butshewantedtolivehereinRennes.Hewantedtotraveltheworldandpaint.Shesaid,‘Butifyoulovedme,you’dstay.’Hesaid,‘Butifyoulovedme,you’dgo.’”Heshrugged.“So,shestayed,andheleft.Twoyearsago,shemarriedEliot,whoisaperfectlyniceyoungmanbut,ifImaysayso,dreadfullydull.”
“Doeshecomehometovisit?Philippe?”
“Yes.Everysummer,whenMarieClaudegoesbacktovisitEliot’sfamilyinLyonforthreeweeks.”
Iwatchedhisface.“Youmustmisshim.”
Henodded.“Ido.Wetalkallthetime.We’reveryclose.Butit’snotthesame.”Hismouthtwisted.“Claudinemisseshimmuchmore.Sheislonely,yousee,withoutheronlyson.”
“Sheneverremarried?”
“No.”
“Andyounevermarried?”
“Idid,verybriefly,butsherealizedthatthelifeofanartistthatsheimaginedwasnotthelifethatIhadanyinterestinleading.”
Athoughthitme.“So,yoursonwillinheritHotelParadis?”
Hesethisemptycuponthetray.“Yes.He’snotterriblyenthusiasticaboutit,whichiswhyhefelttheneedtorunallovertheworldtopaintwhilehewasstillyoungandnottieddown.Butheunderstandshowimportantitis.Andhewillhavemystudiotouseforhiswork.HeissomuchmoretalentedthanI,witharealgift.Hewillbeimportantsomeday.”
“Idon’tknow,Bing.BoodilyandFlapareprettyimportant.”
Hethrewbackhisheadandlaughed,thesoundechoingoffthestonewallsanduptothedarkeningsky.“Yes,Isupposeyou’reright.Atleastimportantenoughthathewillneverhavetoworryaboutfindingthemoneythenexttimetheroofneedsrepair.Areyoudone?I’llbringthisinside.Ihaveacalltomakeinafewminutes.”
Isetthecupdown.“Thatwasgood.Thankyou.I’llseeyoutomorrow?”
“Ofcourse.AndColinwillbearoundallday.Wecanworkoutaplan.”
Iwatchedashedisappearedbehindthegardenwall.
Noscreens.
Noair-conditioning.
Nolocksonthedoors.
Istoodandstretched.
HeandClaudinehadason.
Theystilllivedunder—literally—thesameroof,yethehadmarriedanotherwoman.
ThatsonwouldsomedayowntheHotelParadis.
BingscoffedattheideathatClaudinecouldbringthehotelbacktoitsglory
Bingwasright.ThingswereverydifferentinFrance.ChapterSix
Imadethegraveerrorofgoogling“paintingplasterwalls”andwentdownarabbitholethatevenAliceinWonderlandwouldhavefoundoverwhelming.TwohoursandnineYouTubevideoslater,IthoughtIwasready.Butstandinginanemptyroomwithtwelve-footceilings,windowsalmostastall,withcrownmoldingandapicturerail,nottomentionbasemoldingalmostafoothighandtwodoors,Icouldfeelmyconfidenceslippingawayslowlylikewaterdownacloggeddrain.
“Youhavenoideawhatyou’redoing,doyou?”Bingasked,straight-facedbutwithlaughterbubblingjustunderthesurfaceofhisvoice.
“Shutup,”Imutteredbetweenclenchedteeth.“Westartwiththeceiling.Thenwalls.Moldingsandtrimlast.Allperfectlylogical.”
“Perfectly.”Heclearedhisthroat.“Butshouldn’tweprimefirst?You’vegotnewplasterandsomewaterstaining.”
Right.Primer.Iknewthat.Ilookedatthecanslineduponthefloor.Ihadprimer.Goodstart.“Ofcourse,we’llprimefirst.Whatdoyouwant?Ceilingorwalls?”
Helookedcarefullyatthetallbutsomewhatdisreputable-lookingladderinthemiddleoftheroom.“Howareyouwithheights?”
DidIwanttogetuponthatladderandtrytobalancemyselfwhilemaneuveringapaintrollerattheendofasix-footpole?DidIwanttohavetoclimbupanddownthatladderseveraltimestoputnewpaintontheroller,aswellasmovingtheladderfromoneplacetotheother?DidIwanttocranemyneckwhilesquintingupatanalmost-whiteceilingtomakesureIwascoveringeveryinchwithprimerthatwasalmosttheexactsamecolor?
No.Ofcoursenot.“Ihavenoproblemwithheightsatall.”
Hismouthtwitched.“Whydon’tItaketheceilingfirst?”
Ididnotthrowmyselfathisfeet,weepingwithrelief.“Soundslikeaplan.”
Wespreadtarps,whichthehotelseemedtohaveinabundance,openedpaintcans,andpoured.
“Maybeweshouldhavegottenoneofthosesprayerthings?”Iasked,halftomyself.
“Haveyoueverusedonebefore?”Bingasked.
“No.Buthowhardcanitbe?Pointandspray,right?”
Hemadeanoisethatmayormaynothavebeenasnort.“It’sabitmorecomplicatedthanthat,”hesaidinatonethatsuggestedIshouldhaveknown.
Iwaswillingtotakehiswordforit.Besides,Ihadrollers,brushes,andpoles,nottomentiontraysandtarps.IhadeverythingIneeded.
Iloadedupmyrollerandbegantopaintthewall.ApplythepaintinaWpattern,Ikeptthinking.W.AndanotherW.Andanother.Thenreloadtherolleranddoitalloveragain.Andagain.Andagain.And…
“Ah,Lucia?”
IglancedupatBing.Hehadmanagedtoprimehalftheceilinginthetimeithadtakenmetocoverthewallbetweentwoofthewindows.Hedidnothaveprimersplashedhalfwayuphisarms.Hisfingerswerenotblotchy.HisT-shirtwasnotspattered.
“Yes?”
Hebackeddowntheladderandputdownhisroller.“MayImakeasuggestion?”
Oh,please,God,yes.“Sure.”
“Youneedlongerstrokes.Loadupyourroller.”
Idippedtherollerintothepainttrayandmoveditbackandforth.
“Justonceortwiceissufficient,”Bingtoldme.“Therollercanonlyholdsomuch.Physics,youknow?”
Really?It’sphysics?
“MayI?”heasked.
Mayhewhat?Inodded.
Heturnedmetofacethewallandstooddirectlybehindme,hischestagainstmyback,andIswearIcouldfeelhisheartbeat.Hereachedaroundandcoveredmyhandwithhis.
“Longerstrokes,”hesaidagain,movingmyarmupandthendowninasweepingmotion.“See?”
“Yep.”Ididsee.Iwasalsohavingtroublebreathing,andtheheatofhimagainstmewasmoredistractingthanithadarighttobe.
Heletgoofmyhandandsteppedback.“Goon.”
Ireloadedthebrushandtriedagain.WhydidIthinkthosesillylittleWshapesweregoingtogetthejobdone?
“Better?”
Inodded.“Thankyou.”
Hewentbackuptheladder,andwecontinuedtoworkinsilence.
OnceIgotintoadifferentrhythm,thingsmovedmorequickly,butBingwasdonewiththeceilinglongbeforeIwasdonewiththewalls.Heswitchedfromrollertobrushandbegantoworkaroundthewindowsandmolding.
Icouldfeelawholenewsetofachesstartinginbothofmyarmsandmyback.WasIreallythisoutofshape?Imentallyshookmyhead.No,Iwasn’t.Ihadtostopbeatingmyselfupforthingsthatwereoutofmycontrol.IfIhadsoreandachymusclestomorrow,itwouldbebecauseIhadn’tusedthemforanythingasstrenuousaspaintingwallsinyears.
“Howaboutabreak?”Bingsuggested.“I’llmakesomeespresso.”
Itriednottolooktoorelieved.“Thatwouldbegreat,thanks.Icoulduseapick-me-up.”
Istartedtowipemyhandsonmythriftstorejeans,thenstoppedandlookedaroundfortheragsIknewIhadbroughtinforthesolepurposeofwipingmyhands.Theywereinasmallpileontheothersideoftheroom.AsIsteppedoffthetarptogetthem,Ilookedbacktoseeatrailoffaintfootprintsonthescuffedwoodenfloor.
HowhadImanagedtogetprimeronthebottomofmyshoes?Ipickeduparag,wipedmyhands,thenkneltandtriedtowipethefaintfootprint.Insteadofmagicallydisappearingintotherag,itbecamealarger,slightlyfainterfootprint,moreamilkysortofblotchthatseemedtogrowlargerwitheachswipe.Istoodtogetanotherrag.Ialsohadprimeronthekneesofmyjeans,becausetherewerenewspotsintheexactareawhereIhadtriedtoclean.Itookastepback.Anotherfootprint.
Iclosedmyeyesandtookseverallong,deepbreaths.Thiswasnotterrible.Thiswaseasilyfixable.AllIhadtodowasstripoffallmyclothesandhopethatIhadn’tgottenanyprimeronmyactualskin
“Lucia?”
Iopenedmyeyes.
Bingwasstandinginthedoorway,holdingasmalltrayandlookingatmeinanoddsortofway.“Whatdidyoudonow?”
Imanagedabigsmileinsteadofhurlingtheentirebucketofpaintathim.“Ididn’tdoanything.Ijusttriedtowalkfromonepartoftheroomtotheother.”
Heshookhisheadandputona“Notagain”kindofexpression.“Andyetyousomehowmanagedtocreateadisaster.”
“This,”Isaid,tryingtokeepmyvoicelevel,“isnotadisaster.It’sjustabitofamess.I’mtrackingfootprintseverywhere,butallIhavetodoisstripnakedtocleanthemup.”
“Well,Idoubtthat’strue,butI’llbehappytowatchandtakenotesifyoureallywanttotryitout.”Hismouthtwitched.“Youcan’tcleanupwithdryrags,Lucia.”
“Whynot?Isthatanotherphysicsthing?”
Heshookhisheadimpatiently.“No.It’sjustacommon-sensething.”
“You’resuggestingthatIlackcommonsense.”Justthreeminutesago,hewasthesweet,thoughtfulmansuggestingabreakandmakingespresso.Now,hewasbacktobeinganinsufferableknow-it-all.
“Well,you’retheonetrackingprimeralloverthefloorandthentryingtocleanitwithdryrags,”hesaid.
“Andperhapsit’sbecauseIhaveneverprimedorpaintedroomsonthisscaleandamignorantoftheprocess,ratherthanlackingcommonsense.”
Heshiftedhisweightfromonefoottotheother.“That’sanotherpossibility,”hesaid.“Whydon’tyoutakeoffyourshoes,followme,havealittleespresso,andwe’llfigurethisallout.”
Heturnedandwasgone.Islippedoffmyshoes,balancedcarefullyasIcheckedtomakesuretherewasn’tanythingonmysocks,andpaddedafterhim.
Hewasn’tinthesalon.Hewassittingoutsideonthepatio,pouringespressofromasmallcopperpotintotinychinacups.Theairwasstill.Isatandtookasip,closedmyeyes,andfeltthebittercoffeeagainstmythroat.Thejoltcameafewsecondslater,andIopenedmyeyes.Hewaslookingatmewiththathalfsmileonhislips.
Iwantedtoaskhimifhewasalwayssuchaninsufferablejackass.Iwantedtowipethatslightlysmugsmileoffhisface.Ialsowantedtokissthatsmileoffhisface,athoughtthatcameoutofleftfieldandthrewmeoff.So…
“Doyoubelievethere’saghost?”Iaskedhim.
Heraisedbotheyebrows.“Whereonearthdidthatcomefrom?”
Ishrugged.“Ilikeitouthere.Nobadjuju.Infact,I’mmorerelaxedoutherethananywhereelseinthehotel.”
“Maybebecausethisisoneofthefewplacesinthehotelthatdoesn’tneedamassiveoverhaul?”
“Ihadn’tthoughtaboutitquitelikethat.You’reprobablyright.”
Heleanedback.“Somepeoplearemoreintuitivethanothers.Claudineisconvinced.Shesaysshefeelsher,theghost.KarlandVeraalsohavesaidtheycantellwhenshe’shere.AndMarieClaude,why,shefeelslikethisspiritisalong-lostfriend.Butthen,sheisaveryfancifulyoungwoman.Ihaveneverfeltanythingatall,inalltheyears
“Wisewords.”
Hechuckled.“I’mold.”
“Howold?”
“Fifty-five.”
Isniffed.“That’snotold.Sixtyisthenewforty,haven’tyouheard?”
Hesmiled.“Theyhavebeenfifty-fiveverylongyears.”Heshrugged.“Buttheymostlyhavebeengoodyears.”Hestretchedouthislegs.“Howaboutyou?”
Idrankmoreespresso.“I’llbefiftyinthreemonths.Ihadplannedonretiringatfifty.Ihadabunchofmoneyinaprivatepensionfund,managedbyFieldingEnterprises.IhadaseparateIRA.IhadmyeyeonalittlecondoinCapeCod,rightonthebay,whereIwasgoingtospendthenextthirtyorsoyearssittingonabeachandwritingbadpoetry.ThenTonyFieldingcleanedoutallthemoney—mineandeveryoneelse’swhoworkedforhim—anddroppedoffthefaceoftheearth.IspenteverypennyofmyIRAtokeepoutofjail.Thelittlecondoisstillthere,though.Icheckonitoccasionally.It’sarentalnow.”
Hereachedoverandputhishandonmyarm,givingitagentlesqueeze.“I’msorry,”hesaidquietly.
Itookabreath.Ihadtalkedthisoutsomanytimes—withmyself,mylawyers,Julia,myparents—butIheardwordscomingoutofmymouthIhadneversaidbefore.“Heaskedmetogoawaywithhim.Ididn’tknowatthetimewhathewasplanning.Butheaskedme,justafewweeksbeforeithappened,ifIwouldrunawaywithhim,leaveeverythingbehindandspendtherestofourdaystogetherinacabininthewoodssomewhere.Isaidno.”Imovedawayfromhim,justenoughthathedroppedhishand.“Ididn’tthinkhewasserious.Whosayssomethinglikethatandmeansit?”Iputmyemptycuponthetrayandclosedmyeyesagain.
“Knowingwhatyouknownow,wouldyouhavesaidyes?”
Ifelttearsbegin,tearsIthoughthadlongagobeencriedoutandbrushedaway.“Ilovedhim.Withallmyheartandsoul.Iwouldhavefollowedhimanywhere.”
Ifeltthewetnessonmycheeks,andthenthecoolairdriedthem,andfinally,IopenedmyeyesandBingwasstilljustsitting,hisarmsfoldedagainsthischest.Helookedoveratmeandspokequietly.“Weneedtocleanupthefloorandfinishprimingourroom.”
Inodded.“Yes.Andtomorrowwepaint,andbytheendoftheweek,wecanmoveinfurnitureandmaybehaveoneroomcomplete.”
“Hopefully,thingswillspeedupaswefigureoutwhatworksandwhatdoesn’t,”hesaid.
“Hopefully.”
“Andontheweekends,ClaudineandColinwillhelp.”
“Yes.”
“AndonceRaoulisdonewithallhiswork,I’msurehe’llpitchin.”
“Yes.”
“So,youhaveaplan.”
Imanagedasmile.“Ialwayshaveaplan.”
Hewasstill,thennodded.“Yes.I’msureyoudo.”
BingmetmeasIcrossedthecourtyard,walkingintothehotel.Hestoodinfrontofmeandshookhishead.
“Change,”hesaidbriefly.
“Why?”Iwasdressedinmypaintinguniform:rolled-upmen’sjeansandanowpaint-spatteredT-shirt.
“Becauseit’sSaturday,andwe’regoingtothemarket.”
Right,Saturdaymarket.Iwasabouttoargue.Afterall,we’djuststartedgettingintoarhythmwiththepaintingoftherooms.ButIfelttheacheinmyshoulders,feltthenewblisteronmythumb,andnodded.“Changeintowhat?”
Heshrugged.“I’mnotfamiliarwithyourwardrobe.AllIcantellyouisthatFrenchwomendresswelltowalkthedog.Andmakesureyouhavecomfortableshoes.”
Fifteenminuteslater,inapairofblacklinenpantsandacolorfultunic,withmyfeetincomfyoxfordsandmynewlyacquiredmeshshoppingbagovermyshoulder,wesetout.
Itwasafairlyshortwalk.Bingpointedoutafewlandmarks,gaveabriefhistorylessonoftherebelliousBretons,andaswesuddenlyturnedacorner,Istoppedandstared.
Slopinggentlydownanincline,themorningsunwasbrightonthevariousstallsandvendorsthatlinedthecobblestonestreetbeforeme.Allwascolorandnoise,stretchingoutforwhatseemedtobeforever.Wasthereanendtothis?Andiftherewas,howcouldIpossiblyrunthisgauntletwithjustonesinglemeshbag?
EverythingIsawIwantedtobuy:freshflowers,liveplants,vegetablesofeverydescription.Separatestallsforherbs,mushrooms,leafygreensI’dneverseenbeforeinmylife,tomatoesinshapesandcolorsthatdefiedlogic,fruitinwovenbasketsthatseemedtomockthegrocerystoresofwhatIthoughtwasthegreatestfoodcityintheworld,NewYork.
Bingknewsomeofthevendorsandgreetedthembyname.Ijustfollowedhim,mouthhangingopen,occasionallystoppingbecauseIsimplycouldnottakeanotherstepwithoutsixofthosesmall,blush-redapples,abunchoffragrantlilies,orabasketofpearlonions.JustwhenIthoughtIhadseenitall,weturnedintoarowofpreparedfoods,menandwomencookingongiantgrillsandpropane-fueledcooktops.Mymouthbegantowater,andwestoppedtobuyafewpastries,delicatebutteryrollswrappedaroundberriesandhoney.
“We’llcomebackandgetsomethingforlunch,”Bingsaidinmyear.“Comeon.”
Insidealarge,loftybuildingwerethebutchers.Meatandpoultryandfishlayonbedsofice.Herewerethecheesesellersandsmilingwomensellingpotsofhomemadejamandjarsofhoney.
Binghadhisfavorites,andhebargainedloudlyandwithasmile.SomesortoffishI’dneverseenbefore,noteveninanaquarium.Apieceofbeefasredasblood,achickensmallandpink.
“Whydoesn’tmeatlooklikethisintheStates?”Iasked.
“Here,thesmallfarmerisencouraged.Allthesepeopleselltheirowngoods,notsomethingraisedorbredforsomemegacorporation.”Wewatchedastwothickporkchopswerewrappedinbrownpaper.“Thisishowmeatissupposedtolook.”Hegrinnedatme.“Somethingelseyou’llhavetogetusedto.”
Finally,wefoundanemptybenchandopenedcardboardcontainersfilledwithsomethingBinghadpurchasedfromasmilingwomanwearingahijab.Ididn’tknowwhatIwaseating,butitwasdelicious:riceandchoppedvegetablesandspicy,tenderchickeninstrips.
“Youcomehereeveryweek?”Iasked,takingaswigofcoldciderfromabottle.
Henodded.“Idon’tcookmuch.Ionlyhavetwoburnersandnotmuchskill,butwiththisfood,it’shardtomakeabadmeal.”Hegrinned.“Unlessyou’reClaudine.”
“Really?”
Hebrushedthecrumbsfromtheflatbreadoffhisfingers.“Neveracceptaninvitationforanythingotherthanwineandcheese.MarieClaudeisanexcellentcook.SoisVera.ColinstillpreparesfoodintheEnglishstylehegrewupwith,sounlessyoulikeovercookedlambandmushypeas,findanexcuse.”
“Don’tyouallhavecommunalmeals?Bigpotluckfeasts?Aren’tyouallonebighappyfamily?”
Hestretchedouthislegs.“Yesandno.Mostofushavebeenlivingatthehotelforaverylongtime.Weusedtosharemealsmoreoften.Butweallvalueeachother’sprivacyverymuch.Wehaveto,orwe’dbecometoomuchlikefamilyandstartquarrelingwitheachotheroverthelittlestthings.Asitis,wealltrytoliveourseparatelives.Andwhenwedogettogether,wetendtoenjoyeachother’scompanyverymuch.”
Iwasfull.Actually,I’dbeenfullthree-quartersofthewaythroughthecontainer,butitwassogoodI’dfinishedeverybite.“Hasthereeverbeensomeonelivingatthehotelwhodidn’tfitin?”
Hepursedhislipsandthought.“Well,we’vehadafewotherso-calledgeneralmanagerstrytheirhandatwhatyou’resupposedtobedoing.Theydidn’tlastlong.Theywerealloverratedandunderqualified.Andtheywere,toaman,arrogantknow-it-allswhotriedtotellClaudinethejobwasimpossible.”
Ilookedathimandraisedaneyebrow.“Andyet,”Isaid,“hereyouare.”
Hestaredforamoment,thenthrewbackhisheadandlaughed.“Twopointstoyou.Yes,Ithinkthisisimpossible.But…”Heturnedslightlyonthebench,hisbodyleaningtowardmine.“Ithinkyou’redifferent.Ihaven’tfiguredouthoworwhy.It’saninterestingpuzzleforme,andIlikeinterestingthings.”Hiseyesheldmine,andIfeltthecolorstarttoriseinmycheeks.
“Maybe,”Isaid,lookingawayfromhimtogathermynapkinsfromwheretheyhaddriftedtotheground,“I’llgetthejobdonebecauseI’mgoodatthis.Iusedtobehighlyrespected.IoncehadanentiremagazinearticlewrittenabouthowIhadturnedTheFieldingfrommidtown’sversionofMotel6intoafive-starshowplace.”
Henoddedslowly.“Ifoundthatarticle.TheNewYorker.”
Ilookedathiminsurprise.IstillhadtheframedarticlethathadoncebeenonthewallinthelobbyofTheFielding.Itwasinoneofmysuitcases,undermybed.
Istoodandwalkedtothetrashcan,droppedinmyusednapkinsandtheemptycontainer,andrubbedmypalmsagainsttheroughlinenofmypants.AsIturned,Binghandedmemymeshbag,ladenwithmytreasures.
“CanIcomewithyouagain?”Iasked.
“Ofcourse,”hesaid.“I’mhereeverySaturday.Youcancomewithmeanytime.”
“Thanks,”Isaid,andwewalkedbacktoHotelParadis.ChapterSeven
Thechandelierinthelobbyofthehotelwasbrassandcrystal,withsmalllightbulbsshapedlikecandleflames.Halfthebulbsweremissing.Thebrasshadturnedblack.Andmostofthecrystalswereinaboxonthefloor.
IlookedoveratClaudine.“This,”Isaidemphatically,“wasnotinmycontract.”
Shesmiled.“No.MarieClaudeandColinaregoingtotaketherestofthecrystalsdown,scrubthemclean,polishthebrass,replacethebulbs,andputallthecrystalsback.”
“IthoughtEliotwasherpartnerincrime.”
Shemadeaface.“IthinkEliotisnotasenthusiasticabouthelpingoutasheoncewas.Besides,Colinisperfectforsomethingastediousasthis.”
Isighed.“Whendoyouthinkthey’llbefinished?July?”
Shelaughed.“Youhavesolittlefaith,Lucy.Itwillonlytakeafewdays.”
Ilookedbackuptowardthechandelier.“Who’sgoingtostandontheladderforallthattime?”
Sheshookherhead.“Ah,no.Nothingsodifficult.Thereisamechanismthatlowersthewholethingdownforcleaning.Intheoffice.I’llshowyou.”
Ifollowedherdownthecorridorandintotheoffice.Ihadn’tbeenintheremorethanonceortwicesinceI’darrived,becauseitwasjustanotheroutdatedmessthatIwasgoingtohavetoclean,update,andimprovewithoutanymoney.
Theofficewaslongandnarrow,withfrostedwindowsontwooppositewallstoletinthelightfromthecorridorononeside,andthesalonontheother.Twolargewoodendeskswerepushedagainstthebackwall.Ononeofthem,therewasadesktopcomputer,sooldIknewthatifIpowereditup,I’dgetaflashingC:prompt.Therewasnotaprinterinsight,norafaxmachine,notevenaphone.Therewasalargesafe,lookingaboutahundredyearsold,openandempty.Andtherewereboxeseverywhere,stacksofpapers,andyellowedmanilafolderscrammedinthebookcase.
I’dbeenhavingnightmaresaboutthisofficeintermittentlysincethelasttimeI’dpeekedin,abouttwoweeksago.
Claudinemovedafewboxesfrominfrontofanarrowdoorinthecornerandopenedit.Therewasahandlestickingoutofthewall,andshecrankeditslowly.Icouldhearthecreakofmetalagainstmetal,andIwentbackouttothelobbytowatchastheentirechandelierlowereditselfslowlyuntilitstoppedthreefeetfromthemarble-tiledfloor
Icouldn’thelpmyself.Ifeltagrin.“Thatissocool,”IcalledtoClaudine.
Shewalkedupbesidemeandsighed.“Iknow.Itwasmyjob,asachild,todustthecrystals.Myfatherloweredthisonceamonth,andIusedafeatherdustertocleanit.Now,wewillneedagoodsoakwithammonia,anditwillbebacktoitsgloriousself.”
Inodded,stillsmiling.Thelobbylookedperfect.Wehadprimedandpaintedthewallsandtrim,scrubbedandpolishedthemarblefloor,waxedthelongmahoganycounter,anddustedeverypigeonholebehindit.Wehadmovedthelibrarytableintowhathadbecome—quitesuccessfully—theguestofficespace.Itnowservedasadesk,pushedagainstafreshlypaintedwall,acrossfromasmallandquitelovelybookcasewhere,Ienvisioned,wewouldhaveguidebooksandbrochuresavailableforourguests.
“Urnswithpalmtrees,”Isaid,wavingatthedoublefrontdoorsintheircreamynewpaint.“Andartonthewalls.Aclusterofchairswithafewtables,andmaybeafewmorechairsoneithersideofthesalondoors.Andfernsinprettypots.Iloveferns.Ithinkthat’sallwe’llneed.”
“Alldoable,”shesaid.“Easily.”
Isteppedbackandlookedintotheoffice.“Listen,Claudine…”
Shefollowedmygaze.“Iknow.Itisadisaster.”
“We’regoingtoneedallsortsofstuff.Atleasttwodesktops,aprinter—”
Shewavedahand,cuttingmeoff.“Wealreadyhaveallofthat.Inmyofficeintown.I’vesoldit,youknow.Thepractice.Well,theclientlist,anyway.Butalltheofficeequipment,includingdesksandchairsthatweremanufacturedinthiscentury,aremine.WewillbeofficiallyclosingtheofficethefirstofJune,andthenwewillbringeverythinghere.”
ThereliefwassointenseIcouldhavekissedher.I’dkeptmymouthshutaboutsomanythingsoverthepastfewweeks,mainlybecauseitwaspainfullyclearthatmoneywasarealissue.OtherthanmakingsureIknewtherewereverylimitedfunds,shenevertalkedaboutmoney.Shehadshownmeabudget,asimplespreadsheetwithalistofitemsandamountsineuros.ButIdidnothaveacopy,andIwassureitwasnotaccurate,whichmademeuncomfortable.
OneofthereasonsTonysoefficientlycleanedoutalltheaccountsatTheFieldingwasbecausehehad,intheninemonthsbeforehisabruptdeparture,slowlysteeredmeawayfromthefinancialsideofthebusiness.HehadclaimedthatIhadtoomanyotherresponsibilities,especiallysincehehadallegedlybeenplanningasecondhotelinMiami,andIhadbeenmeetingwitharchitectsandschmoozinginvestors.Istillsawthedailysheets,ofcourse,buthadstoppedreceivingmonthlyreportsfromtheaccountant.WhenTonyleft,Ihadnoideahowmuchmoneyhadbeenslowlybuildinginaccountsthathadbeenearmarkedforthenewhotel.WhenIfoundhowmuchhadbeeninvolved,Iwasstunned.MillionsofdollarsforthedevelopmentoftheMiamiprojecthadvanished,alongwitheverythingintheoperatingaccounts,thepensionfund,andthereserve.
IwassureClaudinewasnotsittingonanythingevenclosetothatkindofmoney.AndIwasalsosurethatshewouldstartsellingbodypartstorealizeherdreamofreopeningHotelParadisifthat’swhatittook.ButIwasstilluneasywhenshemadeitquiteclearthatthemoneysideofthebusinesswashersandhersalone.
Iwalkedbackintotheofficeandpulledamanilafolderfromthebookcaseandopeneditup.Thepaperinsidewassoolditcrumbled.Iwasholdingasheafforregistrationsheets,withthefleur-de-lislogoofHotelParadisonthetopandtheornatelyprintedsheetsfilledinbyhand.ThedatewasSeptember23,1938.
Iglancedupather.“Allofthesegobackthisfar?”Iasked,incredulous.
Shetookthefolderfrommyhandsandreadthetopsheet,thenturneditovercarefully.“Theyneveropenedthehotelbackupafterthewar.Wejustlivedhere,surroundedbyemptyroomsandechoes.Isupposewecangetridofallthisnow.”
Ishookmyhead.“No.Wecanframethese.We’llputanoldregistrationineachoftherooms.Thisishistory.Wecan’tjustthrowitaway.”
Sheraisedaneyebrow.“Areyougoingthroughallthese?Becausewestillhaveseriousworktodo.”
Shewasright.InthesevenweeksI’dbeenthere,wehadcompletelyredonetheground-floorguests’rooms,thesalon,theofficespace,and,oncethechandelierwascleaned,thelobby.
AftergoingthroughtheroomsofHotelParadis,wewerelikeawell-oiledmachine.Bing,Colin,andIhaddonemostofthatwork;Bingdidtheceilings,Ididthewalls,andColincameinlasttodoallthetrim.Karlhelpedbycominginafterweweredoneandcleaningallthedripsandsmudgesandpolishingthetallwindowsuntiltheysparkled.MarieClaudeandEliothadfinishedwiththefurniture.Eliotseemedtohavedroppedawayfromworkaroundthehotel,butMarieClaudehappilysteppedinwherevershewasneeded.
Wehadmoveduptothefirstfloor.Raoulwasthreeroomsaheadofus,workinghiswaythroughthebuilding,patchingplasterandreplacingbrokenmolding,andallIcouldthinkaboutwashisfinishingalltherepairworksowecouldgivehimabrushandroller.Verahadproducedyardsofdrapery,styledlikeoperahousecurtains,whichcouldhangstraighttothefloor,puddlingsoftly,orcouldbedrawnupwithasingletugofthecordtoopen,revealingcleanedandsparklingportes-fenêtres.Shehadinsistedonorganza,ratherthanlinen,andthefinaleffectwasperfectlysheerandluxurious.
Butmorethanhalftheroomswereuninhabitable.
Claudineclearedherthroat.“I’mthinkingaboutcallinginafewfavorswithajournalistortwo.Getsomelocalpressabouttherenovationandthereopening.”
Ibrushedthedustofthecrumblingpaperfrommyhands.“Doyouhaveanopeningdateinmind?”
“July1.”
ImentallywentoverthemostrecenttimelineI’dcreated.ItwasthefifthtimelineI’dsweatedoverinasmanyweeks.July1wasafewweeksaheadofmyprojectionsbutwasnotunreasonable.“That’slessthantwomonths,”Isaidslowly.
Shenodded.“Iknow,butlookhowfarwe’vecome.Canthewebsitebeupandrunningnextweek?”
Ah,thewebsite.Itwasarealthingnow,witharegistereddomainname,anemailaddress,andaURLthatopenedtoalandingpage,completewithafull-colorphotoofastatelymansionthatI’dliftedfromGoogleimages.
“No.Wedon’thaveanythinginthewayofpictures,Claudine.Justafewroomsarefinished,andwedon’thavethemcompletelystyled.Thesalonlooksfine,andthelobbywillbereadyassoonasMarieClaudeandColinfinish,butthecourtyardisstillamess.Idon’tevenhaveagoodpictureofthefrontofthehotel.”
Shepursedherlips.“Colinhasfinishedwiththefrontgate,”shesaid.
“Yes,andthatlooksterrific,butwecan’tphotographthefrontgatewithoutalsophotographingthecourtyardandthefrontfacadeofthehotel.It’saproblem.”
“Whatdoweneedinthecourtyard?”sheasked.
Ileanedagainstthedoorjamb.“Iwantedtopressurewashthewholecourtyard.Justtoblastawaysomeofthegrimeandmoss.”
Shenodded.“That’snotgrime.That’spatina.Andmossconveysgracefulaging.”
Igrinnedather.“Ifyousayso.”
“Ido.Whatelse?”
“Alltheurnsinfrontneedtobefilled.Palmswithtrailingvines,maybe?Orferns?Thefrontwindowsneedtoberepairedandcleanedanddrapesputupinallthewindows.Theoutsideofthedoorneedstoberepainted,andalltheexteriortrim.”
Shemadeaface.“That’salot.”
“Yep.Ithinkit’stoosoonforphotos.”
“Butweneedtostartgettingthewordout.Youknowthat,asofJuly1,thewholeofEuropegoesonvacation.Weneedtograbsomeofthattrade.AndwhendopeopleintheUSgoonvacation?Summers,right?”
“Yes.Butweneedsomewheretodownloadthesoftwarewe’regoingtouse.Ican’tusemylaptop,and—”
“I’llgetsomethingfromworkthisweekandseewhatwecangetgoing.”
Ihadfoundfree,open-sourcehotelmanagementsoftware.Whoknew?TheFieldinghadthebestsoftwaremoneycouldbuy,sophisticatedandcomplex,withcustomersupportforthesmallestofglitchesavailabletousaroundtheclock.Iwassurprisedtofindfreeoptionsoutthereforsmallerhotelsanddecidedwhichonewouldworkbestforus,butwithoutanyworkstations,itwasamootpoint.
“Weneedtofinishofftheroomsthataredone.Whataboutartwork?Andyourrugs?”Iasked.
Shenodded.“Yes.I’llgetthemhere.Wecandresstheroomswehave.”
WespokeinFrench,andIwassurprisedhownaturallythelanguagecametomenow.IspokeEnglishtoColinandBing,buttherestofmyday,surroundedbyFrench-speakingnatives,hadtunedmyearandquickenedmytongue.Noonewouldmistakemeforanatural-bornFrenchspeaker,butnoonecringedatmyaccent,either.
Claudinenarrowedhereyes,andIrecognizedthatasasignshewasthinkinghard.“Iknowsomeonewhocangetusgreenery,”shesaidslowly.“Verycheaply.”
“Cheapisgood,”Isaid,wonderingifIshouldquestionherfurther,butdecidedagainstit.Claudinehadawayofproducingthingsweneededwithoutreceiptsorevenpackaging.Shehadmiraculouslyproducedkeylesslocksforallthedoors,thekindthatopenedwiththeswipeofacard,buthadpresentedthem,awholetwodozen,jumbledtogetherinacardboardbox.Raoulhadinstalledthem,andIhadhadtoscantheinternetforinstructionsonhowtoprogramthem.
Inodded.“Andart.Andrugs.Andanythingelseyoumayhavestoredaway.”
“I’llmakethecalls,”shesaid.“Maybetwoweeks?IfIcangetyouplants?Andeverythingelse?Thenwecantakepicturesforthewebsite?”
Ilookedather.“Weshouldn’tbetakingthesepicturesonaniPhone,”Itoldher.
Shenodded.“Ihaveaclient.Noworries.”IwonderedwhatkindofdealshewouldmakeasIrememberedtheaccommodatingelectrician.
Therewasaclatterinthelobby,andIlookedtoseeMarieClaude,infadedoveralls,andColin,inhisuniformkhakipantsanddenimshirt,standingnexttothechandelier.Claudinehurriedovertothem.
“Perfect,”shecrowed.“Justintime.Let’sgetafewbuckets,andI’llshowyouwhattodo.”
MarieClaudenoddedand,seeingme,gavemeabroadsmile.Shewasadelightfulyoungwoman,sweetandverysmart,andIlikedher.Herhusband,Eliot,notsomuch.AsBinghadsaid,hewasverydull,slowtojoininconversation,andneversatwiththerestofuswhenwegatheredinthegardenintheevenings.Ididn’tknowwhatshesawinhim,butIhadlongagolostanyrighttopassjudgmentonromanticrelationships,beingsuchadismalfailureatmyown.
Ilookedbackintotheoffice.I’dneedgarbagebins,plasticbags,abroom.…
Isighedandstartedtowork.
Therewasaknockonmydoor,justloudenoughtowakemeoutofasoundsleep.Iglancedatmyphone.Justafterfiveinthemorning.Theknockcameagain,andIhurriedoutofbedandlookedoutthewindow.
Therewasaflatbedtruckinthecourtyard,andClaudinewasstandingatmydoor.
Iopenedthedoor.“What’sthematter?Issomethingwrong?”
Shejerkedherheadtowardthetruck.“Weneedtounload.Canyouhelp?”
Inodded,shutthedoor,andhastilythrewonjeansandasweatshirt.Unloadwhat?
Thetruckhadmovedupclosertothehotel,andthebackpanelwasdown,andIsawthatitwasfilledwithgreens:palmtrees,pottedferns,cardboardboxeswithallsortsofvinesspillingoverthetop.Iranuptothebackofthetruck.
ThereweretwomenpullingitemsfromthetruckbedandhandingthemtoKarl,Claudine,andnowme.Noonesaidaword,andinthesemidarkness,Ireallycouldn’tseewhatwewereoff-loading,exceptthattherewasalotofitandtherewasspilleddirteverywhere.Ittookusseveralminutestoemptythebackofthetruck.Then,thetwomenjumpeddown,turnedthetruckaround,anddroveoutofthecourtyard.Claudinefollowed,closingthegatebehindthem.
TherewerealltheplantsI’dmentionedtoClaudineearlierintheweek,aswellasadditionsthatKarlhadbroughtmelater.Obviously,Claudinehadmadeanextensivelistofplantingsandhadplacedanorderwithalocalnurseryorlandscapingcompany.
ButasIlookedcloser,Irealizedthatnoneoftheitemslookedliketheyhadcomefromanursery.Thepalmtreeswereinveryattractiveandexpensiveceramicpots,butnoneofthemmatched.Thesamewiththeferns.Ipokedintooneofthecardboardboxes,filledwithtraditionalivy,andsawthattherewereleaves,roots,anddirt,butnopots.Asthoughtheyhadbeenjustdugoutofthegroundand…
“Claudine?”Icalled.“Wheredidallofthiscomefrom?Werethosemenfromanursery?”
ClaudineandKarlexchangedaglance.“Notexactly,”shesaid.
“Thesepots?Imean,they’reverynice,butwhyaren’tthesepalmtreesinplainblackplasticpots?Thesealllookliketheycameoffsomebody’sfrontporch.”
Karlbegantowhistletunelesslybetweenhisteeth.
IstaredatClaudine.“Where’stheinvoice?”
Shepickedupalargepottedpalmtreeandhoisteditontoherhip.“Thereisnoinvoice,”shesaidshortly.“Canyougetthedoorforme?”
Ihurriedaheadandopenedthefrontdoorandwatchedassheplacedthepalmtreenexttothedoortothesalon.
“Areyougoingtohelpmeornot?”sheaskedsomewhatcrosslyasshewentbackoutside.
“Wheredidallthiscomefrom?”Iaskedagain,evenasIliftedanotherpalmwithbothhandsandfollowedherbacktothefoyer.
“Overbythestairs,Ithink,”shesaid.
Isetthepalmdowncarefully.Itwasthickandhealthy,withdelicateleavesastallasIwas,inalovelyemerald-greenpot.
Backoutside,Karlhadtakenthefernsfromtheirvarietyofpotsandhadreplantedthefirstoftheminoneofthecast-ironurns.Heliftedagreen-and-whitevinefromanotherbox,shakingthedirtfromtheroots,and,withasmalltrowel,duginthevineintothedirtatthebaseofthefern.
“Isn’tthisbeautiful?”heasked.“It’svariegatedplectranthus.Goodinsunorshade.Theseshoulddowell,don’tyouthink?”
Claudinehandedmeanotherpalmtree.“Inthesalon,”shesaid,givingmeasmallpush.
Itrottedthroughtothesalonandsetitdownnearthedoortotheoutsidepatio.Thesunwasstrongernow,andIcouldseewherewehadscatteredirontablesandchairsaround.Wecouldputafewpalmsoutthereaswell,alongwithfloweringannuals,sincewesuddenlyseemedtobeenjoyingawealthofgreenplants.Infact,wepracticallyhadanentiregreenhouse’sworth.
Claudinecarriedinanotherpalm,setitontheothersideofthesalondoor,andmadeaface.“Iwishthosepotsmatched,”shegroused.“Wemayhavetobuysomething…”
Shehurriedout,andIwasrightbehindher.
“Claudine,stop.Whatdoyoumean,‘buysomething’?Didn’tyoubuyallofthis?”
Sheshrugged.“Well,Ipaidmoney,that’sforsure.IhadtogiveStefanfiftyeuros.”
“Forwhat?”Iasked.
Shegavemeanotherpottedpalmtree.“Acquisitionfee.Putthisinthesalon,too?Maybebythenewhallwaytotheoffice?”
“You’renotgoingtogivemeastraightanswer,areyou?”
Sherolledhereyes.“Stefanisaclientofmine,andheprovidedaservice,andnowwehavelotsofbeautifulgreenplants,justlikeyouwanted.Can’tyoujustsay,‘Thankyou’?”Shewentthroughthefrontdoors.
Karlwasworkingonthesecondurn,andIhadtoadmititlookedlovely.Thefernwasthickanddarkgreen,andhe’dplantedatall,palegrassbehindit;thegreen-and-whitevinespilledovertheedgeofthepotandtrailedalmosttotheground.Therewereseveralmoreofthelargecast-ironurns,andIsawthathehadmorethanenoughtofillthem.Theyweregoingtolookperfectforpictures,addingjusttherightairofelegance.Andtheadditionalfernscouldbeputoutinthepatio,alongwithsomeverynicetopiaries,alsoinveryexpensiveplanters.
Istood,holdingapalmtree,watchingKarlashecarefullyseparatedavineandsnuggleditinatthebaseofthefern.
“Doyouhaveeverythingyouneed?”Iaskedhim.
Hestraightened,rubbedhisback,andsmiledatme.“Ohyes.Ittookmealmostaweektofindeverything,butitwasworththeeffort.”
“Andwhere,exactly,didyoufindeverything?”Ishiftedthepalmfromonehiptotheother.
Hissmileneverfaltered.“WestartedinCesson-Sévigné,justeastofRennes.”
“Oh?”Iaskedinnocently.“Isthereagardencenterthere?”
“No,butmanybeautifulhomeswithgardens.”
“So…theseallcameoutofpeople’syards?Didyoujustdrivethroughneighborhoods,takingstuff?”
Helookedindignantandshookhishead.“Ofcoursenot.Mostneighborhoodsaregated.Youcan’tjustdrivethroughthem,especiallyatnight.”
“Oh.”
“Andwenevertookmorethanonethingfromsomeone’sgarden.Iamnotheartless,youknow.Iwouldn’ttakesomuchthatitwouldbeaburdentoreplace.Apalmhere,afernthere…that’swhyittookussolong.Stefangrewratherimpatientwithme.”
“Icanimagine.Andthosevinesand—”Imotionedtothecardboardboxes,overfilledwithplantings.
“Ah.Well,wehadtobecarefulthere.Ididn’twanttheretobegaps,youknow.Itookalittlebitfromhereandthere,sonoonewouldevennotice.”
Claudinecamebackoutandglared.“Areyougoingtojuststandhereallmorning?Orareyougoingtohelp?”
“Claudine,allofthiswasstolen.”
“Whichiswhywearegoingtodosometransplanting.Thispotteryisverynice,butsomeofitisdistinctiveandveryexpensive.I’dhateforsomeonetoreadaboutouropeningandrecognizesomethingoftheirsinthephotographs.Thatwouldnotbesogood.”
“Andyoudon’tcareaboutthembeingstolen?Ithoughttherewasaniteminyourbudgetforplantsandflowers.”
“Therewas.Andthenyoudecidedthatweneededarosegarden.Doyouhaveanyideahowmuchrosescost?Nottomentiontheespalieryouwanted.Andthosesillylittleboxwoodplants?”
“Wait.Thisismyfault?”
“Notatall.Imanagetheexpenses,notyou,sotheresponsibilityisofcoursemine.”ShelookedatKarl,whohadgonebacktohisdigging.“Butwe’renottalkinggrandlarcenyhere.Nooneisgoingtomissonepottedplant,Lucy.Now,seethatonethere?Outtothepatio,Ithink.”Shepickeduptwooftheferns,oneandeachhand,andwentinside.
Ilookedatthetopiary.Itwassomesortofevergreenandlookedlikeagreenlollipop.Shewasright.Perfectforthepatio.ChapterEight
“Themattressesarehere,”Colincalled.
Wewerepaintingoneoftheroomsoverlookingthegarden.Colinhadgonedownstairsatthesoundofthebell,andIheardatruckoutinthecourtyard.Iputdownmyroller.“Whatdidshedo?”Imutteredtomyself.“Sendsomeonetoraidpeople’sbedrooms?”
Bingheardmeandburstoutlaughing.“Areyoutalkingaboutourill-begottenfoliage?”
Ibrushedbackmyhair.“Isupposeyouhadnoproblemwiththatwholething?”
Hecamedownfromtheladderandputdownhisroller.“Yes,ofcourseIdid.IevenfeltatwingeofguiltasIwasdrivingaroundwithKarl.”
Istared.“Whatdoyoumean,drivingaroundwithKarl?”
Hemadeaface.“KarlandIdrovearound—well,Georgesdrove,KarlandIjustlooked—andwenotedalltheplacesthatlookedliketheywouldbeworth,ah,revisiting.”
“Youwereinonthat?”
“Karliscertainlyspryforhisage,but,well…heneededhelp.”
Ifoldedmyarmsacrossmychest.“Andwhat,exactly,didyoudo?”
Helookedthoughtful.“Ijustwrotedownaddresses.Wewentoutafterdinner,beforeitgotdark,anddrovearound.Ittookusfourtripstotargeteverythinghewanted.”Bingchuckled.“Hehadsomeveryspecificitemsonhiswishlist.”
Iclosedmyeyesandshookmyhead.“Unbelievable.YouhavenofaithinClaudine,hervision,myabilitytocarryoutthatvision,butyoudrivearoundmakingaliteralhitlist.”Ithrewupmyhands.“You’reridiculous.”
Hereachedandcaughtmywristsinhishands.“No,I’mnot.Yes,Imayhavedoubtsabout,well,everything,butthishotelismyson’slegacy,andnomatterhowabsurdImaythinkthisendeavoris,IwilldoanythingandeverythingClaudineasksofme.”Hemovedcloser,andhisgriploosenedasmyhandsfelltomysides.Icouldfeelhissmoothpalmsagainstmyskin,andashishandsopened,theylingered,acoolcaress.
Itookastepawayfromhim.“Sohowlongdidittakeyoutoscoutouteighteenmattresses?”
Hethrewhisheadbackandlaughedagain.“ThemattressesarefromIKEA.”Henoddedtowardthehallway.“Hearthat?They’redeliveringthemnow.”
Wewentouttothelanding,andtwomenwerecomingupthestaircase,carryingbetweenthemwhatlookedtobearug,longandtightlyrolled,wrappedinwhiteplastic.
“That’samattress?”Iasked,skeptical.
“Isthereanelevator?”oneofthemenasked.
“Yes,”Isaid.“ButIdon’tthinkit’sbigenoughfortwomenandamattress.”
Hescowledatme.“Wheredoyouwantthem?”heaskedinFrench.
“Putoneineachoftheroomsuphere,”Itoldhim.“Allthedoorsareopen.Andthelasttwoaredownstairs.”
Thetwomennodded,andIwatchedthemdisappearthroughadoorway.
“Seriously?”IaskedBing.
Heshrugged.“Youunrollthem,andtheyexpandtoaregularmattress.”
Ifrowned.“Where’stheboxspring?”
“Thereisnoboxspring.”
“What?Thatmustbelikesleepingonthefloor,”Isaid.
Hesnorted.“Isyourbedcomfortable?Withoutaboxspring?Iwouldhavethoughtyou’dpayattentiontosomethinglikethat.”
“Somethinglikewhat?”
“Youclimbintobedeverynight.Howcluelessdoyouhavetobenottonoticewhatyou’resleepingon?”
“Thereyougoagain,”Isaidhotly.
“What?”hegrowled.
“Makingassumptions.Andbeingajerk,”Isaid.Maybeyelled.
“I’mnotajerk!”heyelledback.
“Butyou’remakingassumptions.Rememberthatfirstday?Whenyousaidyoujumpedtoconclusions,anditwasamajorflaw?Andyouweregoingtoworkonit?”
Heglared.“So?”
“Whenareyougoingtostart?”
Colincameupthestairs.“Uh,”hesaidnervously.“Icanhearyou.Actually,everyonecanhearyou.”
“Good,”Imutteredandwentbacktowork.
ClaudinehadscheduledthepresseventforaMondaymorning.Localjournalists,travelagents,andafewregionalbloggerswereinvited,aswellassomeonefromtheMinistryofTourism.
AphotographerwasarrivingearlyonSaturdaytotakepicturesforthebrochureandwebsite.Iplannedtodownloadafewofthebestimagesandplugthemintoourself-designedtrifold,whichwewoulddistributetoallourinvitedguestsatthepressevent.IfiguredIcouldpasteandplugwhatIneededandprintthemofffasterandmuchcheaperthansendingthejobouttoaprofessional.Eliothelpedmethere—grudgingly.Whenhewasn’thidingawayfromtherestofusinthetinyappartementhesharedwithMarieClaude,heworkedforagraphicdesignfirm.Heputtogetheraprofessional-lookingbrochureinthetimeithadtakenmetofinishthreeglassesofwine.
Thepreviousweekhadbeenspentinawhirlwindofactivity.Everyonehadfinishedalltheitemsontheirpunchlists,includingVera,whohadsomehowfinishedthedraperyforalltherooms,eventhosethatweren’tquitereadyforthem.Thepublicroomswereimmaculate.Wehadeightindividualroomsstyledforphotographs.Alltheexteriorspaces,includingthesiderosegarden,werecomplete.Thefrontofthehotelwaspostcard-perfect,theexteriortrimandfrontdoorsonceagainapeacockblue.Theillicitlyplantedcast-ironurnswerethriving.Thebackpatiolookedsolovelyandinvitingthatnoonewouldeverguesstherewasaformerdomesticinresidence.
Claudinehadmadegoodonherpromiseofofficeequipmentthatdidn’tcausemetohyperventilateeverytimeIlookedatit.ShehadtheequipmentdeliveredmuchearlierthanI’dexpected,butsinceherofficewasstilltechnicallyopen,Iwonderedwhatherstaffwasusingtoworkon.Thesoftwarehadbeeninstalled.Thewebsitewasreadytogoliveassoonastheimageswereuploaded.
Claudinehadarrangedforallhertreasure—theartwork,rugs,andmiscellanythathadbeeninstoragefordecades—tobedelivered.Thetruckwaslate,butI’dgottenusedtodeliveriesbeinglate.Karlwanderedofftohisgarden,andIfollowedhim.Itwasoneofmyfavoritespaces,andnotjustbecauseitwasoneofthefewplacesthatIdidn’thavetofix.Itwasquietuntilyoureallylistened,andthenyoucouldhearthehumofbeesandthesoftchirpingofbirds.Theabundanceofgrowthwasheartwarming,anditseemedasthoughifIsattherelongenough,Iwouldbeabletoseethetomatoplantsstretchingtowardthesun.
Isettledonabench.Wehadputcast-ironcaféchairsandtablesaroundontheflagstonepaths,butIpreferredthebenches.IwatchedasKarlfussedinthebeds,pullingstrayweedsandnippingbackunwantedgrowth.Hehummedasheworked.ThatwassomethingelseI’dgrownusedto,justasI’dgrownusedtomanythingsinthetenweeksI’dbeenatHotelParadis.
Icouldmakemyowncafécrèmenow.Thehulkingmachinebackinthekitchennolongercausedmepanic,andImadetheespressoandsteamedmilkwiththeconfidenceofaStarbucksbarista.
Itookmymeshbageverywhere.IfyouboughtanythingfromanywhereinRennes,youhadtofigureoutawaytocarryitoutofthestoreonyourown.Itonlytookmetwosolotripstothebakeryformetoputmymeshcarry-allonahookrightbythedoor,rightthereinmyface,sothatIrememberedtotakeitwheneverIlefttheflat.
IcalledmyparentseverySunday,ontheirlandline.No,Icouldn’tseemydad’sface,butnow,whenItalkedtohim,itwasjusttohim,unlesshepassedthephonetoMom.Nolongerwereourconversationsinterruptedbythedisembodiedvoiceofmymotherfromwhereverinthehouseshewantedtobe,insteadofnearenoughtohearherdaughter’svoice.
Mimi,Cara,andIhadaweeklyFacebookvideodateonMondaynights.JoeandIworkeditoutsothatIcouldcallthemjustastheycamehomefromschool,andhehadhislaptopsetupforthem.WhenIwastheirage,theideaoftalkingtosomeoneface-to-faceacrossanoceanwouldhaveseemedmagical.Theytookitinstridefromtheveryfirstconversation,slippinginfrontofthescreen,snacksinhand,burstingwithquestions.
“Isyournewhotelpretty?”Caraasked.
“Beautiful,”Ilied.Notalie,exactly.Soon,itwouldbe.
“Whatareyoudoingnow?”Mimiasked.
“Painting,”Iansweredpromptly.
Theybothgiggled.“Painting?Likeapicture?”Mimiasked.
“No.Painting,likethewalls.”
Carafrowned.“Didyoudothatatyourotherhotel?”
“No.Butthishotelisdifferent.Andspecial.”
“DoyoutalkFrenchallthetimethere?”Mimiasked.
Inodded.“Yes.AndthemoreIspeakit,theeasieritgets.”
“Likeridingabike,”Caraoffered.
“Exactly.”
“WhencanwelearnFrench?”Caraasked.
Ithought.“Probablyinmiddleschool.Definitelyinhighschool.DoyouwanttolearnFrench?”
Theybothnodded.“Sowhenwecometovisit,”Caraexplained,“wecantalktoallyourfriends.”
Ididn’tknowwhatthebiggerpipedreamwas—thattheywouldbevisitingmeorthatIhadfriends.WasIwarminguptothepeoplearoundme?Yes,Iwas.ButdidIconsideranyofthemfriends?Notreally.
AndtheideathatJoecouldaffordtosendthemtoFranceinthefirstplacewasabsurd.Myparentshelpedpayhisrent.
“Well,that’ssomethingtoworkfor,”Isaid,keepingtheconversationawayfromdelicatesubjects.
“Wemissyou.”Carasighed.“Sunday,Nanawasinabadmood,andPopPopsaidhisbackhurt,andnobodywouldtakeustothepark.”
TheyhaddinnereverySundayafternoonatmyparents’house,atraditionthatbeganevenbeforeSarahadbecomeill.Ihadnotjoinedthemveryoftenbackthen.ItseemedIneverhadthetime.Truthwas,Inevermadethetime.OfthefewpositivethingsthathadresultedfromthewholeFieldingdebacle,thegreatestwasmyconnectingwiththesetwogirlsinawaythatwouldhaveneverotherwisebeenpossible.
Ifeltmyeyessuddenlyburn.“Imissyouguys,too.Likecrazy.Whichiswhywe’regoingtotalklikethiseveryweek,okay?”
Cara,alwaysthemorecautious,narrowedhereyes.“Promise?Whatifyouhavesomethingelsetodo?”
Ishookmyhead.“It’spracticallymybedtimeallthewayoverhere.Idon’tdoanythingsoclosetobedtime.”
Carastuckoutherlowerlip,thinking.“Whatifyougetsick?”
Imadeaface.“Icandothisinmybed.”
Shepersisted.“Whatifyou’restillpainting?”
Ishookmyhead.“Ican’tpaintinthedark.”
Shewasn’tgivingupyet.“Whatifyouhaveadate?”
“ThenIguessyoubothwillgettomeethim.”
Theyburstintogiggles,andwesaidgoodbyeafewminuteslater.
JuliaandItextedeachother,oftenatnight,justanoddlineortwo,butIcouldhearherlaughterasItriedtoexplainwhatmylifewaslikenow:thriftstorejeansandbrokenfingernails,hardeningmusclesandlongsoaksintepidwater,wineateverymealwithcrustybreadslatheredwithbutterthattastedlikefresh-mowngrass,goingtothemarketeverySaturdaymorningwithBingandfindingevenmorefoodsandflowersIhadneverimaginedexisted.
Yousoundhappy,shetextedme.
MaybeIam,Itextedback.OrmaybeI’mtootiredtobesad.
What’swithBing?
Nothing.
No.Really.
He’sattractiveandtoocomplicated.
Andhewas.Attractive.Hewascharmingandfunnyandsmart,andwheneverwegotphysicallyclose,Iexpectedactualsparkstojumpbetweenourbodies.Buthewasstillahigh-minded,arrogantknow-it-allwhomanagedtoirritatethehelloutofmebytheendofmostofourconversations.Andanyinvitationtofurtherintimacy,emotionalorphysical,realorimagined,Iquicklythrewoff.Ididn’tknowhowlongitwouldtakebeforeItrustedmyselftomakesoundandreasonabledecisionsaboutmypersonallifeagain,butIwasprettysurethatBingwasarisk,andIwasn’twillingtotakeanyrisksjustyet.
Ihadalsobecomesomethingofacatperson.NapoléonBonapartenowsleptatthefootofmybedeverynight.Idon’tknowwherehehadsleptbeforeIarrived,buthesettledintomylittleappartverynicely.Ialwayshadasmallbowlofwaterforhim.HeateinClaudine’sroomsandwanderedthegroundsquitehappily,buthealwaysmanagedtofindmeasIopenedmydoorintheevening,slippinginandcurlingupforthenight
Today,asIsatwaiting,Iwatchedhimskulkaroundthegarden.Hewashunting.Voles,Karlhadsaid,andhefroze,thetipofhistailtwitching,ashetrackedsomeunseencreaturethroughtherowsofpolebeans.
“Lucia?”
ItwasBing,interruptingthehunt.Hewalkedacrossthegravelandsatbesideme.Napoléonsat,glaredatBing,andbeganwashinghisfrontpaw.
“WhyisNapoléongivingmetheside-eye?”Bingasked.
“Hewashunting.Stillnotruck?”
Bingshookhishead.“Itcouldtakeuntilmidnight.TheFrenchhaveanoddconceptoftime.”
“ArewesureallthesethingsbelongtoClaudine?Imean,she’snotaboveabitofpettylarcenytofurtherhercause.”
Bingsmiled.“No,theseareallherfamilyheirlooms.Shehasaphotographofeveryiteminalargenotebook.Sheusedtotakeitoutandtalkabouttherugsliketheywereclose,personalfriends.”Hestretchedhisarmoutalongthebackofthebench.Iwasawarethatthenapeofmyneckwasinchesfromhisarm,andallIhadtodowasslouchdownalittlebit…
“Ithinkyou’redoingwell,”hesaid,quiteunexpectedly.“ThingsaremovingalongmuchfasterthanI’dthoughtpossible.”
“IfIremembercorrectly,whenIfirstgothere,yourexpectationswereratherdim.Nonexistent.”
Henodded.“Yes.That’sanaccurateassessment.Aren’tyouimpressedthatIcanfreelyadmitwhenI’mwrong?”
Imadeanoise.“Whyshouldthatimpressme?Isn’tthatsomethingeveryoneshouldbeabletodo?”
“Yes,butifyouknewmebackintheday,you’dnotonlybeimpressed,you’dalsobegobsmacked.”
Ismiled.“That’sagreatword.Gobsmacked.”
“Yes,itis.Ilovewords.”
Wesattogetherinsilence.Itwasnotoneofthoseawkward,what-do-I-say-nextkindsofsilences.Rather,thesilencebetweentwopeoplecomfortableenoughwitheachothertonothavetofillintheempty.TonyFieldinghadhatedtheemptinessandhadfilleditwithtalk,snappingfingers,ortappingtoes.Ithadbeenexhaustingattimes.
“What?”askedBing.
IrealizedIhadmadeakindofsnort.“Iwasjustthinkingaboutwhatwe’rewillingtoputupwithforlove.”
“Ah.Yes.Love.”
“Deepsubject.”
“Verydeep.Imuchpreferlust.”
Isatup.“Excuseme?”
Hegrinned.“Lust.It’sverydirect.Straightforward.Justaspowerfulaslove,butwithoutallthatthinking.”
Ilaughedoutloud.“That’sanexcellentwaytoputit.I’llhavetorememberthat.”
Heturnedhishead.“Thetruckishere.Let’slook.”
Karljoinedusaswewalked.HewastalkingaboutAubussonrugs,howtheyhadbeennamedforthetownofAubusson,onthebanksoftheCreuseRiver.
Bingshotmealook,andIgiggledasKarlcontinued,outofthegarden,ontothecobblestones,wherethehistoryofthePerrotfamilywaitedtobeunloaded
Claudinehadhernotebookonthecheck-incounterinthelobby,andthreemenwerestandingthere,twoholdingarolled-uprugwrappedinbrownpaper,andthethirdcarryingarectangularcrate,antique-picture-size.Afourthman,inastylishgraysuit,wasarguingwithClaudine.
“Wespenttwodayswrappingalltheseitemstoprotectthemfromanydamage.Iwillnotspendanymoretimeunwrappingthemalljustsoyoucancheckthem,”hesaid.
Shetappedtheopenpageofhernotebook.“Whatifthereissomethingwrong?Whatifaframeisbroken?Orarugisstained?”
“Madam,yourfamilyhaspaidmycompanythousandsoverthepasteightyyears.Youareoneofouroldestandmostvaluedcustomers.Doyouthinkthatifsomethinghadhappenedtoevenonecornerofonerug,wewouldnothaveimmediatelytoldyou?”
Shelookedathim,frowned,lookedatme,thenshrugged.“Youhaveapoint.Alltherugsupstairs.”Shegestured.“Andthepaintingscanallbelinedupagainstthewallhereinthesalon.”
Helookedatthesweepingstaircase.“Upstairs?”
“Yes.Mostoftheguestroomsareupstairs.Thereisanelevator.Small,butyoucanuseitfortherugs.Takethemupandlinethemallupinthehallway.”
Hedidnotlookhappy,butheshrugged.“Thereareverymanypaintings,”themansaid.
“Iknow,”saidClaudine.“There’smorethanenoughroominthere.”SheturnedtoBing,Colin,Karl,andme.“Youcanstarttounwraptherugs.RollthemoutafootortwoandtakeapicturesoIcanmatchthemagainstmylist.We’lldotheartlast.”
Wewentupstairsandfollowedthefirstrugfromtheelevatortothewidehallway.Colincarefullycutopenthebrownwrapping,revealingtherolled-uprug.Wehelpedhimunrollafootortwo.
“Oh,”Iwhispered.
Colinwhistledthroughhisteeth.“Wow.”
KarlsquatteddownnexttoColin.“ThereareoveronehundredoftheserugsatVersailles,”hesaid.Hepushedalittleharder,andtherugunrolledabitmore.
Ihadseenpicturesoftheserugs,ofcourse,butthedepthofcolorandclosetexturetookmebysurprise,especiallysincetherugwassoold.Anditwaslarge,atleasttenfeetlong.
“Ipicturedsmallerarearugs,”Isaid.
Karlstood.“Oh,no.Theserugswereasignofwealth.Theywereallmadeonaverygrandscale.Eachwillcovermostofthefloorineveryroom.”
“IfIhadknownthat,”Imuttered,“Iwouldn’thavespentsomuchtimeandmoneyfixingthefloors.”
Binglaughed,pulledouthisphone,andtookapicture.“Wheredoyouwantthis?”heasked.
Wehadfinishedtheroomsoverlookingthebackpatio.Iopenedthedoortooneoftherooms.Thewallswerepainted,thefurniturewascleanandgleamedsoftlyafterMarieClaudeandEliot’sministrations,andsoftdraperycoveredbothwindows.
“Inhere,”Icalled.“Iwanttoseehowitlooks.”
BingandColincarrieditin.Wemovedthefurnituretoallowfortherugtobefullyunrolled.Itwasapalebluewithcream,softgreen,andblushpink.Weputthefurniturebackinplace.
“Weneedtodressthebed,”Imuttered.
“First,”Bingpointedout,“weneedamattress.”Themattresswasstillrolledupandleaninginacorneroftheroom.HeandKarleaseditontothebedasIhurriedout.
Iheadedforthehousekeepingclosettuckedintoawindowlesscornerattheendofthehallway.Inside,bythelightofasingle,danglinglightbulb,Ipulledoutasetoflinen,threepillows,andoneofthemanyquiltshangingfromthewoodenrack.
Ihurriedbacktotheroom.Weneededart.Therewasapicturerailineveryroom,droppeddownabouttwofeetfromtheceiling.Tryingtohangapictureonthewallwasimpractical,asitwouldhaverequiredasmallspikeandasledgehammertopuncturetheplaster.Pictureswerehungonwireandattachedtosmallhooksthatslippedontotherail.
Idumpedmylinensonthegracefulbergèreandheadeddownstairs.
Claudinehaduncratedtwopaintingsandwasstanding,armscrossed,andsmiling.AsIcameuptoher,shegrinnedbroadly.“Look.Isn’tshelovely?”
Istared.Itwasaportraitofayoungwoman,herdarkhairsweptup,herfacecalmandlovely,smilingfromanelaborategiltframe.“Wow.Oh,Claudine…”Ireachedoutahand,thensnatcheditback.Thiswasgoingtohangonawall?Whereanyonecouldtouchit?Itbelongedinamuseum.
“OdettePerrot,”Claudinesaid.“Paintedin1843.”
Thesecondpaintingwasalandscape,ariverflowingthroughawheatfield,horsesinthebackgroundpullingacart.Itwassobeautifulthatmybreathcaughtinmythroat.
Claudinesidledupbesidemeandpokedmeintheribs.“Youdidn’tbelieveme,didyou?”
Ishookmyheadslowly.“It’snotthatIdidn’tbelieveyou.It’sjust…”Iputmyarmaroundhershoulderandgaveheraquickhug.“Ijustneverimaginedanythinglikethis.”
Thereweretearsinhereyes.“I’veneverseenthem,”shewhispered.“Notinreallife.Justthepictures.”
“Well,waituntilyouseeyourrugs.CanItaketheseupstairs?”
“Ofcourse.I’llcomewithyou.”
IshookmyheadasItookOdetteinbothhands.“No.Notyet.”Igesturedattheyoungworkmanwhocameincarryinganothercrate.“Couldyougrabthatforme?Please?”
Henoddedandpickedupthelandscape,andupstairswewent.
Binghadthemattressonthebed.Theheadboardandfootboardwerecarvedmahogany.Themattresswasunrolled,apileofplasticwrappingheapedonthefloor,butonlylookedfourincheshigh.IcarefullyleanedOdetteagainstthefootboardandstared.
“What’swrongwithit?”Iasked.
Karllookedconfused.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“It’sflat.”
“Ofcourse,”Karlsaid.“Youhavetogiveittimetoexpand.”
“Howmuchtime?”Iasked.
“Two,threedays,”heanswered.
Ishookmyhead.“Wedon’thavethreedays.Thephotographeriscomingthedayaftertomorrow.Bringinthreeorfourmore.”IlookedatBingandColin.“Please?”
IturnedtoKarl.“Dowehaveanyflowersyet?”
Heshookhishead.“No.Notyet.But…”Hefrowned.“Ihavesomething.”Hehurriedout.
ColinandBingreturned,andafterunwrappingthreemoremattresses,wehadsomethingthatlookedlikearegularmattressonthebed.
“Colin,canyouhangthese?”Iasked,motioningtowardthepaintings.“Doyouknowwherethehooksare?”
Colinnoddedandleft,draggingthemountainofplasticbehindhim,whileBinghelpedmemakethebed.Thequiltwasmadeofcream-coloredcotton,theintricatestitchingoutliningpatternsofbirdsandroses.
Colincamebackin,thesmallbrasshooksinhand,andOdettewashungnexttothedoor.Thelandscapefilledthewallnexttothearmoire.
Karlcametrottingbackin,breathless,carryingaslenderglassvaseunderonearmandgracefulfrondsthatIrecognizedascomingfromthetallgrassesgrowingintheurns.Hesetthevaseonthesmalltablenexttothebedandarrangedthegrasses.
Hesmiledatme.“Yes?”
Inodded.“Ohyes.”Ipulledopenthedrapesandpushedthetallwindowsopen,revealingabitofthebalcony.ThenIranovertothedoorwayandsurveyedtheentireroom.
“Itneedsmore,”Imuttered.
Bingstoodbesideme.“Yes.”
“Karl,”Icalled.“Anyfernsleft?”
Henodded.“Yes.”
Iranmyeyesaroundtheroom.“Good.Canyoubringoneinhere?Overbythebathroomdoor,justtofillupthatbitofspace.”IturnedtoBing.“Let’slookatafewmoreofClaudine’streasures.”
Downstairs,theyhadbroughtintwolargewoodencratesthatwerepushedupagainstthemahoganycounter.Bothhadbeenopened,andtheoncenailed-onlidswereaskew.
Ipointed.“What’sinthere?”
Bingwentover,knelt,anddughishandsintothepackingmaterial.Hepulledoutalarge,roundobjectwrappedinbrownpaper.Hepeeledthepaperoffandrevealedalargeporcelainbowl,creamywhite,sprayedwithpinkrosesandfadedgold.
“Perfect,”Ibreathed.“Whatelse?”
Herootedaroundsomemore,thenturnedwithagrin.“Candelabra?”
“Bringitup.”Igrabbedthebowl,blewoffthedust,andhurriedbackupstairs.“Colin,”Icalledfromthelanding.“Anychanceofcandles?”
“Certainly,”hecalledbackandcameoutoftheroomandheadeddownthebackstaircase.
IttookuslongerthanI’dthoughtitwould,butfinally,welookedateachother,grinningwithsatisfaction.
“Karl,”Isaid.“Yougether.”
Wecouldhearhergrousingallthewayupthestairs.
“Whatissoimportant?”Claudineasked.“Ihaveratherafewthingstodo.”
Andthen,rightinthedoorway,shestopped,andwecouldhearhergasp.
Theroomwasbeautiful.Itwasastepbackintoamoregracioustime.Theopenwindowsletinabreezethatruffledthepalecurtains.Thebedclotheswereturneddown,thepillowsplumpagainstthecreamofthelinenbedsheets.Thefurnitureshone,andthecandlesflickeredonthedelicatewritingtablenexttothebed.
Shetookastepin.Odettesmiled,andClaudinesmiledback.“Ithinkyou’vedoneit,Lucy,”shesaidsoftly.
“We’vedoneit,”Isaid.
Shewalkedfartherintotheroom,herstepsmuffledbythethickrug,takinginthesoftpillowacrossthebackofthefloweredslipperchairbythewindow.Shetouchedthegrassinitsvaseandtrailedherfingersacrossthefrondsofthefern.“Yes.ThisiswhatIhadalwaysimagined.”Thereweretearsinhereyesasshesmiled.Thensheshookherself.“Butwherewillweputthetelevisionyouinsistweneed?”
“It’snotlikewe’regettingsixty-four-inchHDTVsinhere,”Isaid.“Wecanprobablyhideasmallscreeninthearmoire.”
Shenodded.“Perhaps.Weneedmorelighting.”
“Iknow.”
“Andwecertainlycan’thaveopenflamesinthecandelabras.”
Ikeptmyvoiceeven.“We’llgettheflamelesscandles.Anythingelse?”
Sheshookherhead.“No.Thefernhereisanicetouch.”
Karlbeamed.“Yes.AndIknowwherewecangetmanymore,ifyou’dlike.”
Iclosedmyeyesbriefly,andwhenIopenedthem,everyonewaslookingatme.
IfeltBing’swarmbreathinmyear.“Welldone,”hewhispered.
AndasIsmiled,Claudineclappedherhands.“Yes.Welldone.”
Theroomswereset.Pictureshadbeenhung,rugsrolledout,andKarlhadbeenassignedthejobofgoingtotheSaturdaymarketfirstthinginthemorningtobuyfreshflowers.Claudinecouldn’taffordtoputlargebouquetsineachoftherooms,andIhadabriefvisionofhersendingusoutintopredawnRennestostealflowersfrompeople’sgardens.Instead,Karlinsistedhecouldrearrangetheflowersineveryroom,givingadifferentlookineveryphotograph.Iallowedmyselftorelax.WhenGaspard,thephotographer,arrivedthenextmorning,wewouldbeready.
Except…
Nowthattheweatherwaswarm,wehadtakentosittingoutinthegardenafterdinner,usuallywithabottleortwoofwine.OneofthemostendearingtraitsoftheFrench,Idecided,wastheirbeliefthatyoudidn’tneedaneventtodrinkgoodwine.Infact,drinkingwastheevent.
Claudinemadeherpitchasthoughshewereofferingeachofthemachanceofalifetime.“Weneedpeopleinthepictures,”Claudinebegan.“Youknow.Guests.”
“Youdon’thaveguests,”Colinpointedout.
“Ahyes,”Claudineagreed.“ButIhaveallofyou.Youcanpretendtobeguests.Youknow,checkingin,sittinginthegarden,openingasuitcase…youallcanbeonthewebsite!”
Noonejumpedupinexcitement.Nooneraisedtheirglasstotoastsuchasplendididea.
Veraspokefirst.“Youmaynottakemypicture,”shesaid.“Idon’tphotographwell.”
Bingwaslaughingveryquietly,hisshouldersshakingasheshookhishead.
“Idon’tthinkso,”MarieClaudemumbled.Eliothadnotjoinedus.Again.“Ihavenothingtowear.”
ClaudineandIhadofferedMarieClaudeajobasadeskclerkoncethehotelopened.Herlivingon-sitewascertainlyonereason,butshewasasmart,capableyoungwomanwhowasworkinginabank,andIreasonedthatshehadthecustomerserviceexperienceneededforthejob.
ClaudinelookedatMarieClaude.“You’llwearwhatyouwillwearonceweopen.Awhiteshirtandablackskirtorpants.Doyoumeantotellmeyoudon’townawhiteshirt?IwasgoingtohaveyouphotographedbehindthefrontdeskwithLucy.CheckinginVeraandBing.”
Bingraisedaneyebrow.“What?”
Veraclearedherthroatandsaidagain,abitlouder,“Youmaynottakemypicture.”
Claudinerolledhereyes.“Youarebeautiful,Vera.Don’tbesilly.I’msureyouwilllookamazing.AswillBing.Youwillmakeastrikingcouple.Anditwillsendtherightmessage,no?”
“Whatmessageisthat?”Bingasked.“Thatoldpeoplearewelcomehere?”
Claudinescowled.“Don’tbedifficult.Thateveryoneiswelcomehere.”
“Idon’tfeelcomfortable,”Verasaidstiffly,“beingthetokenpersonofcolor.”
Claudinemadeaface.“Thathasnothingtodowithanything,Vera.Youshouldknowthatbynow.Thecolorofyourskinisaverynice,politicallycorrectplus,butevenifyouwereabland,blondSwede,I’daskyou.Ineedacoupletocheckintomyhotel.LucyandMarieClaudewillbedoingthecheckingin.Ican’thavethempretendingtobeguests.Theyarelegitimateemployees.Bingneedstobewithsomeone,soit’seitheryouorColin.Andthetwoofyoumakesuchanattractivecouple”
Vera’sfacesoftened.“Verywell.”
Karlleanedbackandsaid,“ThenperhapswecanaskStavros’soldestdaughter?Youknow,theonewithfourchildren?Toshowthatwewelcomefamiliesaswell?”
ShenarrowedhereyesasVeraandBingbothburstoutlaughing.
Karl’seyesweredancing.“Iknowhowhappyyouwillbetoseesmallchildrenrunningaround,makingallthatnoiseandbumpingintothings.”
“Stopit,”shesnapped.“Ofcoursefamiliesarewelcome,butwedonothavetheappropriatespace.Youknowthat.Wecanonlyaccommodatetwopersonsineachroom.”
Colinleanedoverandsaidinmyearinamockwhisper,“Herloveofchildrenispracticallyurbanmyth.”
“Idolikechildren,”Claudinesaidloudly.“Ilovethem.AskPhilippe.Hewilltellyouthathehadawonderfulchildhood.Didn’the,Bing?”
Bingswirledthewineinhisglass.“I’msurehedid.Whatchildwouldn’t,growinguphere?Hehadtherunofthelocalhauntedhouse.ButIseemtorememberthatwhenhebroughthisfriendsovertoplay,well,sometimesthatdidn’tgooversowell.”
“That,”Claudinedeclared,“isbecausehisfriendswerehooligans,runningaroundherelikeapackofwolves.”
Bingthrewhisheadbackandlaughed.“Theywereboys,Claudine.Howdidyouexpectthemtoact?”
Karlhadabroadsmileonhisface.“Thisisanongoingconversation,”hesaidtome.“Claudine’spatiencewithboisterouschildrenhaslongbeenthesubjectofmuchdebate.”
Ismiledbackathimandrelaxedinmychair,watchingtheirfaces.EvenMarieClaude,whoIknowhadn’tlivedherenearlyaslongasBingorKarl,wasinonthejoke.Butthen,shehadknownPhilippe,andhemayhavetoldherthestoriesofhischildhood,spentinanemptyandechoinghotel,hismotherscoldingasheandhisfriendssliddownthelongbanisterofthegrandstaircase.
Therewasafamiliareaseamongthemall,afeelingofbelonging,andIachedtobeapartofthat.Ihadneverfeltembracedandacceptedbymyownfamily,andyearsofmovingfromoneplacetoanotherhadnevergivenmethedeeprootsoflongfriendships.
AtTheFielding,Ikneweveryemployeeandhadfeltclosertosomethanothers.Therewereafewwhowouldcallmeforadrinkafterworkorjusttositandchatinthelobbyafteranevent.ButafterTonyleft,notoneofthosepeoplereachedoutincomfortorsupport.Instead,theylookedatmeasacoconspirator,andnothingIcouldsayordochangedanyone’smind.EventhoseI’dimaginedasfriendsturnedtheirbacks.Icouldn’tblamethem,Isuppose.TonyandIhadmovedintandemintheyearsweweretogether.Hisbetrayalwasseenasmineaswell.ItdidnogoodtotrytoexplaintoanyonethatTonyhadbeenoneofmygreatestmistakes.
IconsideredmyselfluckytohaveJulia,someoneIhadknownincollege,andwehadsomehowremainedconnectedthroughallmymanymoves.
AsmuchasIwantedtorelaxenoughtoletthesepeoplein,Ihadheldback,stillsodistrustfulofmyowninstinctsthatIsometimesworriedthatIwouldneveragainputanykindoffaithinanotherperson.
Claudinelookedatmeandexplained.“Theyareallbeingoverlycritical.True,PhilippeandIhadafewissuesashewasgrowingup,butthatistrueofallparentsandtheirchildren.Andtobehonest”—shesmiledwistfully—“Ihadwantedadaughtersobadly.Oh,tohavehadalittlegirltodressandteachtocookandplaywith.”
Bingnodded.“Although,Imustadmit,shetried.PoorPhilippe,hewastheonlyboyinkindergartenwhohadapinkwintercoat.”
“Thatwasnotpink,”Claudineshotbackandthenlookedchagrined.“Okay,maybeitwas.”ShepointedatMarieClaude.“Whenyoufinallygetdowntohavingyourchildren,Iwantnothingbutlittlegirls.Understood?”
MarieClaudesmiled.“I’mnotquitereadyforthat,Claudine,butIwillcertainlykeepyourrequestinmindwhenthetimecomes.”Shelookedatme.“Shealwaysgetswhatshewants.”
Inodded.“Yes,I’venoticedthat.So,Iguesswe’llallposeforthecameratomorrowmorning?”
Verasniffed.“WhataboutColinandKarl?Willtheybeanothercouple?”
Colinsatup,grinningatKarl.“Whatdoyousay?”
Karllookedthoughtfulandfinallysaid,“Sorry,Colin.You’remuchtoooldforme.”
Weallburstoutlaughing.
Claudinewavedahand.“Colin,youwillbeaguestinthesalon,havingbreakfast.Stavroswillbehere,ofcourse,andhasalreadyagreedtobephotographed.Karl,youcanloungeoutinthegarden,sippingaglassofwine.”
Karlgrinnedwickedly.“Certainly.Andtellus,Claudine,howwillyoubephotographed?”
Shenarrowedhereyes,openedhermouthtosaysomething,decidedagainstit,thengrinnedbroadly.“Iwillsitoutwithyouinthegarden.Wecanholdhands,ifyou’dlike.Orperhapsshareakissforthecamera?”
Karlblushedasheburstintolaughter,andwealljoinedin.Ifeltasurgeofsomething.
Maybeawaveofconfidencethatthefirsthurdlewasalmostover.
MaybeagrowingsensethatthehotelwouldopenontimeandbeassuccessfulasIwantedittobe.
Maybeafeelingthatyes,Ididbelonghereafterall.ChapterNine
KarlandGeorgesenteredthelobby,armsfullofcolorfulflowers.Karlhurriedintothebackoffice,wherealargeselectionofvasesandcontainerswerelineduponbothdesks.
Claudinehadunpackedavastcollectionofdecorativeobjectsfromthewoodencratesthathadbeendeliveredearlierintheweek,includingsterlingsilvervasesthatstoodthreefeettall,porcelainjarsofexquisitecoloranddelicacy(Limoges,Karlexplained,givingabriefhistoryastheywereunpacked),andcrystalbowls(Lalique,ifyou’reinterested).Theywereallantiquesandprobablyextremelyvaluable,butClaudinewantedthemallused.
“They’vebeenpackedawayfortoolong,”shesaid,somewhatwistfully,asthoughspeakingofold,forgottenfriends.“Theyneedtobelookedatandadmiredagain.”
Theplanwassimple.KarlandMarieClaudewouldarrangethevariousbouquetsanddeliverthemasneededaheadofthephotographer,Gaspard,whoimmediatelyunderstoodthesituation.
Hebeganoutsideinthebrightmorningsun,avoidingtheshabbystableblockthatservedasstorage,insteadshootingthenow-imposingfacade:throughtheblackirongates,closeuptothefreshlypainteddoubledoors,lookingaroundthecornerfromthejust-bloomingrosegarden.EvenNapoléongothisownheadshotandanotherofhimcurledupamongthefernsinhisfavoriteurn.
BingandVera,aswell-heeledguests,lookedamazing:BinginhisusualjeansandT-shirt,butalsowearingacrisplinensportsjacketandalongsilkscarfwrappedaroundhisneck,Veraimposingandsophisticatedinapalepantsuit.MarieClaudeandI,inwhiteshirtsandblackskirts,smiledandwentthroughthemotionsasGaspardclickedaway.
“Vera,”heinstructed,“turntowardmeandsmile.”
“MarieClaude,yourhairkeepsfallinginyourface.Pleasebrushitback.”
“Bing,putyourhandonVera’sback.”
“Vera,stopfrowning.He’ssupposedtobeyourpartner.”
“Lucy,don’thidebehindtheflowers.”
Thetallsilvervasefilledwithcolorfulbloomswasstrategicallyplacedtoblockthecreditcardmachineandtheother,lessattractiveelectronics,allnecessarybutnotphotogenic.Ihadn’tbeenhiding,exactly.“I’mscanningtheircreditcard,”Iexplained.
“You’rehiding,”Gaspardscolded.“Vera,please,smile.Thisisnotthathard.”
Verashothimalookthatcouldhavestoppedachargingrhino,andGaspardblanched.
“We’redonehere,”hesaid.
Therewasaflurryofactivityasfernsandflowerswerewhiskedintothesalon,whereStavros,aredaproncoveringhiswhiteshirtandblackpants,stoodstiffly,waiting.Colinsatatatablecoveredinstarchedwhitelinen,abowlofspring-greenivyinthecenter,asthoughathree-starMichelinmealwerewaitinginthewings.
“Closertothewindows,”Gaspardinstructed.“Thelightisbetter,andwecangetthepatioflowersinthebackground.”
Anotherflurryaseverythingandeveryonemoved,andGaspardwassatisfied.
“Stavros,standontheotherside.Now,pourthecoffee.”
Stavrosbentoverawkwardlyandtiltedthecoppercoffeepot.Nothingcameout.
“Where’sthecoffee?”Gaspardasked.
Stavroslookedconfused.“Ididn’tmakeany.Itwouldjustgetcold.”
Gaspardshookhishead.“Whocaresifit’scold?Youcan’thavehimsittingthereinfrontofanemptycoffeecup.Andwhere’sthefood?”
Stavroslookedblank.“Food?”
Iranoutofthehotel,throughtheirongate,andintothecaféacrossthestreet.“Simone?”Icalled.
Theyounggirlhurriedfromthekitchen,wipingherhandsonherapron.Shewasslightlyflushed,herhairupinaponytail,herblackapronpowderedwithflouredhandprints.
“Areyoualone?”Iaskedher.
Sheshookherhead.“No.Josianeishere.”JosianewastheoldestofStavros’sdaughters,themotherofthefourchildren.
“Canyoucomeover?Andhelp?”Iasked.“Yourfatheriscamerashy.”
Sherolledhereyes.“Ofcourse.”
“Andweneedfood.”
“I’llberightover,”shepromised,andIranoutandbacktothehotel.
“Simoneiscoming,”IcalledasIwentintothediningroom.
“ThankGod,”Claudinemuttered.
Gaspardwasstandingoutinthepatio.Iwentoutandtouchedhimontheshoulder,andhejumped.
“What?”
“Simoneiscoming,”Itoldhim.“Stavros’sdaughter.She’sbringingfood.”
Henodded,andaswewalkedbackinside,heglancedoverhisshoulder.“Didyouhearher?”hewhispered.
Ifeltachill.Ididnotwantanyremindersofourlongest-stayingguest.
Simonearrivedafewminuteslater.Stavroshadfilledhiscoffeepotwithespresso.Simoneexchangedherapronforherfather’smorephotogenicone,arrangedafewcroissantsandapeeledandsectionedorangeonalovelyblueplate,andsetitinfrontofColin.
“Ready?”sheaskedGaspard.
Henodded,andshewenttowork,pouring,smiling,listeningwithapparentfascinationtowhateverColinwassaying.Thenshepouredtheespressobackinthepotanddiditalloveragain,fromtheotherside.
Andagain.Andagain.Andbehindthesalon,inthebrightsunlight,potsoffernanddelphiniumpeekedthroughthetallwindows.
Nextcametheoffice,itstall,glassdoorsopentothegarden,potsoffernsclusteredatthebaseoftheelegantbookcase.
Upstairs,wehadstackedmattresseshighenoughtobeastagesetforOnceUponaMattresswithpillowsplumpedonpalequilts.Curtainsbillowedinasoftbreeze.Thickwhitetowelshungovertheedgeofaglisteningclaw-foottub.Inoneroom,Veraposedbythewindow,gazingout,sothatGasparddidn’thavetocoachherintosmiling.Inanother,Bingloungedontheoutsidebalcony,sittinginasmallchair,awineglassonthemarble-toppedtable.Bothdeclinedtositinthetub,inchest-highbubbles,readingandsippingchampagne.IthadbeenClaudine’sidea,andIthinkshesuggestedthewholethingjusttoannoyBingandVera.
Aswemovedfromroomtoroom,KarlandMarieClauderearrangedflowers,positionedferns,andstrategicallyplacedvasesandbowlsjustinsidethecameraframe.
Backdownstairsforasetofphotosinthegarden,withBingononeofthebenches,hisarmstretchedoutalongitsback.
Whenhewasdone,Gaspardsighed.“HeshouldbesmokingaGauloises,”hesaid,mentioningthefamousFrenchcigarettes.“Americanadvertisingisstillveryanti-smoking.”
“Don’ttemptme,”Bingsaid,followingusinside.“Igavethemupmanyyearsagobutwouldgobackinaheartbeat.Infact,”hesaid,hiseyesdancing,“onceIhitseventy-five,I’mgoingbacktoallmyoldhabits.Smoking,redmeateveryday,sexwithyoungerwomen.”
Claudinelaughedatthat,herheadshaking.“Youneverlikedsexwithyoungerwomen,”shesaid.“Youalwayslikedusmoreexperiencedtypes.”
Bingputhisarmaroundhershoulderandnuzzledherhair.“Yes.Andthankyouverymuch.”
Verashookherhead.“Youtwoareimpossible,”shemuttered.
Weendedbackinthelobby,itschandeliergleaming,eleganttablesplacedbetweencomfortablechairs,morefernsandpottedpalmtreesstrategicallyplaced.HotelParadislookedmagnificent.
Theso-calledguestsallactedaccordingly,and,withtheexceptionofStavros,allphotographedbeautifully.
Gaspard,clickingaway,muttered,“Yourrealguestsaregoingtobedisappointedthattherearen’treallyasmanyfernsandflowersaround.”
Claudineshotmealook,thensmiled.“Noworries.Icanalwaysgetmore.”
AnddidImentionthatBinglooked…Nevermind.
Gaspardsatdownnexttomeatmydeskinthebackoffice,leavesandfallenpetalslitteringthefloor,thestrongsentofcarnationsintheair.
“AreyoureallygoingtogettherestoftheseroomsreadybyJuly?”heaskedaswewaitedforhisdigitalfilestoloadontomydesktop.
Ilookedupathim.“Greatquestion.Thestockanswerisyes,ofcourse.That’swhatwe’lltellthemonMonday.Betweenyouandme,therewillbealotoflongnightsahead.Butweknowhowlongittookustogetthisfar,andit’snotanimpossibletask.”
Gaspardchuckled.“Claudinehasanironwill.Thatalonemightgetitdone.”
Inoddedinagreement.“Yes.Thereisthat.I’velearnedtoneverunderestimatewhatthatwomancanaccomplishoncesheputshermindtosomething.”Iglancedupathim.“Haveyouknownherlong?”
“Almosttwentyyears.ThestudioIworkedforwasaclientofhers,sowhenIwentoutonmyown,Istayedwithher.Shehasawayabouther.Sheinspiresloyalty.Iamheartbrokenthatsheisretiring,butIknowwhatthisplacemeanstoher.Iamhappyshewillfinallygetherdreamrealized.”
Wewentthroughhisphotosoneatatime.Itwastediouswork,andhediscardedhalfofthemwithjustaglance,andthenwentback,studyingeachshotcritically.
“Thelighthereisgood.”
“Thatoneisperfect.”
“Whydoesn’tVerasmile?She’saveryattractivewoman.”
“MarieClaudelooksgoodinthisone,butIhavetocrop.MayI?”
Ilefthimatmycomputerandwalkedoutside.Itwaslateafternoon.Gaspardhadspentthebetterpartofthedayatthehotel,andseeinghowlongitwastakinghimtoreviewhiswork,alongwithalltheeditingIrealizedhewantedtodo,itwouldbeawhilebeforeIgottheeightortenpicturesIneeded.
Napoléoncamearoundthecorner,meowedatme,thendartedofftotherosegarden.Ifollowedhim.Therehadn’tbeenanypicturestakenofit,despiteKarl’sinsistencethathiscreationwasgoingtobecomeamajordrawforguests.Ilikedthenarrowsidealley.Theroseswerejustbeginningtobloom,andtherewasafaint,sweetscentintheair.scentcomingfromthefloweringroses.Eachwasadifferentvariety.Karlhadexplainedingreatdetaileachrosebush,itshistory,howlongitwouldbloom,andwhen.Hecarefullyplannedforthemtobloomatdifferenttimesduringthesummer,givingacontinuousshow.
Napoléonwrappedhimselfaroundmyankles,purring,thenjumpeduponthebenchandsettledbesideme,almostbutnotquitetouchingmythigh.
“Areyoudone?”Veraasked.Shepokedherheadaroundthecorner.
Ishookmyhead.“No.Gaspardisgoingthroughallhispictures.He’skepttheoneshe’sdeemedworthy,andnowhe’scroppingorsomething.”
Shecamearoundandleanedherbackagainstthestonesideofthehotel.Sheclosedhereyesandtookadeepbreath.“Ilikeitbackhere,too.”Shesighed.“Thoserosesaregoingtobegloriousinafewyears.Karlwilltendtothemlikebelovedchildren.”Sheopenedhereyes.“Thingswentwelltoday.”
Ismiledtiredly.“Itwasn’tthatbad,wasit?”
Shemadeaface.“Claudineistoomuchsometimes.Inthebathtub?”
Ilaughed.“Youknowsheonlysuggestedthattogetyourhacklesup.”
“Ishouldhavetakenherupinit.BothBingandI.Together.Thatwouldhaveshutherdownfastenough.”
Ithoughtaboutthat,confused.“Whatdoyoumean?”
Veranarrowedhereyes,andIcouldpracticallyseeherdecidingaboutwhattosaynext.“I’mnotsuresheevergotoverhim,”shesaidatlast.
Isatupstraighter.“Bing?”
Veranodded.“I’veknownheralongtime.Iwasn’tlivingherewhenitwashappening,theiraffair,butIknowherwell.Bingmovedon.Sheneverdid.ItmaybebecauseofPhilippe,andshefeelstheconnectionmorestronglythroughhim.ButIhadjustmovedherewhenhewasmarried,andshewasnotgood.Atall.Shehiditwellfromhim.Fromeveryone.Butshewouldtalktome.”
Ifeltsomethingdeepinmychest,aheavy,dullache.“Really?”
Hereyeswereshrewdandwatchful.“Youlikehim.”Itwasnotaquestion.
Iwaitedabeat.“Yes.Eventhoughhemakesmecrazysometimes.”
Shesmiled.“Iimaginehemakesyoucrazymostofthetime.Hecanbeaveryannoyingman.”
Ihadtosmile.“Yes,hecanbe.”
“Don’ttakeitpersonally,”shesaid.“Likemanyintelligentandsuccessfulmen,heautomaticallyassumeshe’sthesmartestpersonintheroom.Youjusthavetoremindhimthathe’snot,andeventually,hetakesastepback.”Sheshotmealook.“Ithinkhelikesyou,becausehewantsyoutosucceed.You’renotthefirstpersongiventhisjob,youknow.SinceI’velivedhere,Claudinehashiredthreeotherso-calledgeneralmanagers.Notoneofthemlastedthislong.Notoneofthemcameclosetodoingallyou’vedone.”
Inodded.“SoI’veheard.”
“Intheend,itwasBingwhochasedthemoff.Iftheyhadanygumptionatall,hewouldn’thavebeenableto,butyouaredifferent.”
Ihadnoideawhattosayaboutthat,soIsaidnothing.
“Well.”Shestraightened.“Youdidgoodworktoday.Andno,itwasn’tthatbad.Gaspardshowedmesomeofthepictures,andIlookedmuchbetterthanI’dthoughtIwould.I’mpleased.AndIknowClaudineis,too.”Shewavedahandandturnedratherabruptlyanddisappearedaroundthecorner,leavingNapoléonandmesittinginthegatheringdusk.
ClaudinehadnevergottenoverBing?
Isighed.Icouldcertainlyunderstandthat.Iimaginedthatonceyou’dgivenyourhearttohim,itwouldbealmostimpossibletohaveithandedbacktoyouinonepiece.
Gasparddidnotfinishuntilquitelate,andIcrawledintobedwithoutgettinganyofmyownworkdone.Tomorrowwouldbebusy,Ithought.Ihadtocutandpastetheselectedphotosintomybrochure,printoffahundredorsocopies,andfoldthem.ThenIwoulduploadtothewebsite,recheckeverylineofinformationandeverylink,andgetuslive.
Nobigdealatall,launchingawebsite.Iclosedmyeyes.
Right.
IwasupandoutofbedbeforeNapoléonthenextmorning.Thecatopenedoneeye,closeditagain,andburroweddeeperintothebedclothesasIhurriedlydressedandgrabbedmyusualbaguetteandbuttertotakewithmeforbreakfast.
Thekitchenhadbeenslowlyfillingwithcutlery,dishware,andcopperpots.Imademycafécrème,examiningthehodgepodgeofplates,cups,andsaucers.Claudinehadmanagedtounearthdinnerplatesfromtheclowncarofastorageshed,whichseemedtogiveupboxafterboxofpreciouslysaveditemsdatingbacktoprewarHotelParadisglory.Thereweredeepbowls,tinydemitassecupsandsaucers,andlargeplatters,allwhitewithscallopededges.
TheFieldinghadspeciallymadedinnerware,withthelogotastefullyscrollingalongtheedgesoftheplates.Here,therewasjustasimplefleur-de-lis,asymbolfoundalloverFrance,inthecenterofeachplate,inafadedpeacockblue.Simple,elegant,andlovely.JustwhatIwantedforHotelParadis.
TheofficehadbeenpaintedbyColinandMarieClaude,andwithClaudine’sstate-of-theartequipment,itwasnowapleasuretowalkintoeveryday.Theoldsafewasstillthere,itsheavydoorremoved,fillednowwithreamsofpaper,printercartridges,andboxesofnumber2pencils.Mydeskwasadornedonlywiththepicturesofmynieces,thedesktop,andaneatlyorganizedstackoffolders.ThechippedbudvaseheldasingleblossomofwhateverKarlbroughtineveryfewdays.Mynewhappyplace.
Gaspardhadwinnoweddownhisoveronehundredimagestotwentyhedeemedgoodenoughforpublicconsumption,andtheywereallstunning.Theyweren’tjustbeautifulphotographs,theyalsocapturedthespiritofthehotel:theold-worldcharm,theslowandgracefulpace,thequiet,unobtrusiveservice.Welookedgreat.
Ipluggedtheimagesintothewebsiteandslowlypointedandclickedeverylinktomakesuretherewouldbenosurprises.Then,Iclickedonthemostimportantbuttononthescreen,theonethatmadeourwebsiteliveandoutthereforalltheworldtosee.Iwaited.Iheardnofanfareoftrumpets.Therewasnothunderousapplause.Notonepieceofconfettifluttereddownfromtheceiling.
“Ta-da!”Isaidsoftlytomyself.
“Whatarewecelebrating?”Bingasked,rightbehindme.
Ijumped.Themanwaslikeaninja.Iturnedandwouldhavescowledathim,but…wewerelive.“Thewebsiteisupandrunning.”
Hewassippinghismorningespresso.“Isee.Andyou’re…What?Waitingtoseeallthosehundredsofreservationstocomeflowingin?”
“Ofcoursenot,”Isnapped.“IstillhavetoputusonVrbo.AndAirbnb.AndtheRennestourismwebsite.”Ireachedovertograbafolder,riffledthroughthepagesinside,andthrustasheetathim.“Andweneedtobeonalltheseplaces.Wanttohelp?”
Hereaddownthelist,hiseyebrowsraised.“Alltheseplaces?Areyousure?”
“Yes.I’msure.It’smyjob,remember?”
Hesatdownatthedeskacrossfromme.“Okay.WhatdoIdo?”
“Gotoeachsite,”Iexplained.“Theyaskforthesameinformation,andit’sallonthatfirstsheetthere.Justinputeverythinganddownloadthe…Wait.Oneofthethreepicturesinthefilethatreadsexterior.”
“Whataboutinteriors?”
“Theywon’taskforinteriorphotos.”
“Howdoyouknow?”hehadthattoneinhisvoiceagain,the“Areyouseriousaboutthis?”tone.“Didyoualreadylookatallofthese?”
Itookabreath.“OfcourseIlookedatthem.Ilookedatalmostonehundreddifferentsites,andthosearetheoneswiththemosttraffic.They’rehighlyrankedinotherplaces,too.Ispenthoursscrollingthroughgarbagetofindthediamonds.”Iglaredathim.“HowdoyouthinkIchosethem?Cointoss?”
Heshrugged.“Thatseems,well…”
“Boringashell?Yes,itwas.That’showI’vespenteverynightforthelastthreeweeks.”
Hiseyesnarrowed.“Everynight?”
Ishookmyhead.“Whatelsewasthereformetodo?”Imuttered,theninstantlyregrettedit.Talkaboutsoundinglikeatotalloserwithnothingtodoexcepttrolltravelwebsites.Butitwasmyjob.
“Youneedtogetout,”hesaid.
Isighed.“Andgowhere?”
“TothePlaceSainte-Anne.YouandIwillgo.”
“What’sthat?”
“Asurprise.We’lleatandwalk,andyoucanseesomethingofthiscitybesideshardwarestoresandthriftshops.Sundaysareusuallyquiet,withmostthingsclosed,butnotthere.”
Suddenly,walkingandeatingandseeingPlaceSainte-Annesoundedlikethebestideaintheworld,eventhoughIhadnoideawhatitwas.Afterstaringatthesameseriesofwallsanddoorsforweeks,Iwouldhavewelcomedatriptothecitydump.
“Ihavetofinishallthis,”Isaid.
“Finishwhat?”
Igesturedatthecomputer.“Ineedtofinishthebrochure,makecopies,andfoldthemintimeforthedogandponyshowClaudinehasplannedfortomorrow.”
Hethought.“Thenlet’schangeplaces.Icanprobablydothatmuchfasterthanallthis.”
Weswitched,andonceIfoundmyrhythm,itbecameeasiertocopyandpaste,click,andsave.IfinishedjustintimetoseeBingstandingbythegiantprinter,waiting.
Asingleslicksheetslidout.Helookedatitbriefly,thencarefullyfoldeditinthirds.“Here,”hesaid.“Ithinkit’sverygood.”
Ilookedatitcarefully.Yes,itwasgood.Itwasgreat.Thepictureswereclearandcrisp:thefrontcourtyard,theopenfrontdoors,givingaglimpseintotheelegantlobby,asmilingcouplebeingcheckedin,thesun-drenchedgarden,thecalmandclassicbedroom.Iwouldhavebookedmyselfaroominaheartbeat.
ThetextwasinFrench,butClaudineandColinhadbothsaiditwasfine.IhadanEnglishversionaswell,butthatcouldwait.
“Okay.Thisisgood.Weneedatleastonehundredcopiesmade,thentheyneedtobefolded,then—”
Hehelduphishand.“TellClaudineshecandothis.Tellherwe’retakingawalk.”
“Awalk?Thatsoundsso…simple.”
Hesmiled.“Thereisnothingwrongwithsimple.Putongoodshoes.I’llmeetyouinthecourtyardintenminutes.”
Iputmyhandstomyhead,feltthewildcurls,andmadealameattempttopatthemdown.“ShouldIchange?Imean,Iprobablylooklikeacrazyperson.”
Heshookhishead.“Youlookperfect,”hesaid,andleftmesittingbehindmydesk,holdingthebrochure,grinninglikeanidiot.
PlaceSainte-Annelookedlikeapicturepostcard.Thebuildingsweretall,half-timbered,withflowerboxesspillingcolorfromthreeandfourstoriesup,openwindowsaflutterwithlacecurtainsandtheoccasionalcat,sittinginthefadingsunlight.Everywheretherewerepeoplesittingandtalkingandeating.That,Ihaddiscovered,iswhattheFrenchdid.Theyfoundagoodplacewithwineandfoodandsatforhours.Noonewasstaringataphone.Instead,theyalllookedateachotherandtalked.Andtalked.Andtalkedsomemore.
Frenchisamusicallanguage,andtohearanentirestreetofpeople,alltalking,waslikelisteningtoasymphonyofwords.
Wesatandorderedwine.Itwastooearlyfordinner,especiallyinFrance,wherepeopleatethemainmealofthedayafterthesunhadset.Wesatanddrank,munchingonasmalldishofnuts,nottalkingsomuchaswatchingthecrowdsandmakingquietcommentary.
“Iwouldneverwearthatcolor.”
“No,thatisnotaverygoodchoice.”
“Thatcoupleishavingquitetheargument.”
“Icanseethat.She’stryingveryhardnottobeathimovertheheadwithherwineglass.”
“Butthatcouple—”
“—shouldgetaroom.Andsoon.”
“ArealldogsinFrancesowellbehaved?”
“Yes.They’respeciallybredforcrowds.”
“No,they’renot.Arethey?”
Helaughed.“Youareverygulliblesometimes.”
“Actually,I’mprettycynicalandskepticalaboutmostthings.It’sjustthatyouinsistonbaitingme.”
“Ican’thelpitifyou’reaneasytarget,”hesaid.“Wearen’tgoingtoeathere.Let’swalksomemore.”
Wedid.Walkingcouldbetrickyintheolderpartsofthecity,wherethecobblestoneswereoldanduneven,butthat’swherethegoodwalkingshoescamein.Wemovedslowly,lookingintoshopwindowsandreadingthemenuspostedoutsidevariouscafés.Finally,Bingfoundwhateverhewaslookingfor,becausewesatandorderedmorewine.
“CanIorder?”heasked.“TheyhaveafewspecialtiesherethatIknowyou’lllove.”
HowdidheknowwhatI’dlove?Myhacklesstartedtogoup,butIrealizedmyreactionwasalittleoverthetop.Heprobablydidknowaboutlocalspecialties.Whyshouldn’theorder?IfIwasgoingtogetdefensiveeverytimethemanofferedanything…
“Sure,”Isaid.“Ihavetomakeacall.It’smyweeklycalltomyparents.Doyoumind?”
Heshookhishead,andIdialed.
Dadanswered.Dadalwaysanswered.Iknowthattheydidn’thavecallerIDontheirphone,yetmymothersomehowalwaysknewwhenIcalledanddidnotanswer.Ithadbeenthatwayforyears.AndIalsoknew,havinglivedwiththembothfortwoyears,thatsheansweredthephoneonaregularbasis.Sometimes,theuniversehadawayoftellingyouthingsyouwouldn’tordinarilyknow.
“Dad,hi.Howwasyourweek?”
Usually,Igotalitanyofsmallcomplaintsandslyobservationsaboutthelocalpoliticalclimate.Butnottoday.
“Joey’sdrinking.”
Ifeltmystomachlurch.“Sincewhen?”
Hesighed.“Wednesdaywasthreeyears.”
Threeyearssincehiswife,Sara,haddiedafterabriefbutbrutalboutofcancer.ThreeyearssincehehadtoquithisjobinITtocareforhistwindaughters.Threeyearsinalessdemandingandlower-payingjobatabig-boxstorethatallowedforflexiblehourstoworkaroundthegirls’schoolschedule.Threeyearssincehestarteddrinkingvodkaeverynighttonumbthepain.
“Howbad?”
“Hedidn’tpickupthegirlsfromschoolonWednesday.Wehadtogetthem.Hedidn’tshowupuntilafterdinner,andhewaswrecked.”
Iclosedmyeyesandtriedtobreatheslowly.“Whatdidhesay?”
“Thatitwouldn’thappenagain.Hewenttoameeting.”
“Whatdoyouthink?”
“He’sdrinkingagain.”
Attheheightofhisdrinking,eighteenmonthsbefore,intheweeksbeforeandduringrehab,thetwinshadmovedinwithmyparents.ItwasthenthatIreallybegantoknowthem,andtheybecamemorethanjustmylittlebrother’skids.Itwasn’tjustthattheyhadbecomeadistractionfrommyownseeminglyendlesstroubles.Theyburroweddeepinto
“WhataboutFrank?”Iasked,butIknewtheanswer.MybrotherFrankhadsuccessfullyremovedhimselffromJoey’slife—andmine—assoonashemarriedhisragingbitchofawifewhohadnouseforanyoftheGianettifamily.Elena’scontempttrickleddownpasttheimmediatefamilyallthewaytosecondcousins.Intheyearshe’dbeenmarriedtoher,he’devolvedfromtheusualtroubledbuttolerablemiddlechildtoamanwithnoconcernorempathyforhisparentsorhissiblings.Infact,ourproblemsbecamesomethinghecouldrevelin.Mydisgracehadprobablybeenthehighlightofhislife,bringinghimgreaterjoythanevenJoey’sfall.
“Franksaysweshouldn’tbesurprised.”
Ofcourse.
“Whatareyougoingtodo?”Iasked.Ireachedfortheglassofwinethathadbeensetdownbeforemeanddrankitdowninonegulp.Bingraisedaneyebrow.
“Thegirlsarehere.We’regoingtoaskViviantohelpout.”
Vivianwasthetwins’othergrandmother,Sara’sultraconservativemother,whohadembracedherrecentwidowhoodwithreligiousfervor,tellinganyonewhowouldlistenthatherrecentlydeceasedhusbandhadinfactbeenmurderedbythedeepstate.Itwouldhavebeenlaughableifitdidn’tdirectlyspillintothelivesofthetwolittlegirls.
“Oh,Daddy…”
“Honey,whatelsecanwedo?Youknowwhatittooktogethimhelplasttime.”
Yes,Ididknow,andforthefirsttimesinceI’dsetfootinFrance,IwishedIwerehome.
Thegoldenglowoftheearlyeveningdisappearedabruptly.Itdidn’tmatterthatIwasawayfromwork,inabeautifuloldcity,drinkingwinewiththepromiseofafabulousmealbeforeme.Itdidn’tmatterthattomorrow,HotelParadiswouldbeofficiallyintroducedtotheworldafterweeksandweeksofbackbreakingwork.Itdidn’tmatterthatBingandIhadmanagedtospendtheentireafternoontogetherwithoutmyfeelinglikeIneededtosmackhimupsidetheheadbecauseofhismansplaining.
Mybrotherwasintroubleagain,andIwasontheothersideoftheocean,unabletohelp.Andmytwopreciousnieceswereonceagaininthelineoffire.
“Idon’tknowwhatIcando,”Iwhisperedintothephone,tryingtokeepmyvoicefromcracking.
“Honey,justthinkgoodthoughts,”myfathersaid,hisvoiceweary.“I’mbeginningtothinkthat’sallanyofuscando.”
“Okay.”Ifeltmyfingerstightenonthephone.“TellthegirlsIlovethem.”
“Iwill.”
“ItalktothemonFacebook.CanIdoitonyourlaptop?”
“Ofcourse.”
“Monday.Aroundfouryourtime.”
“We’llbereadyforyou.”
“AndtellJoeyIlovehim,too.Willyoudothat?”
Hesighed.“Sure.Bye.”Hehungup.
Iclickedoffthephoneandstaredatthescreen.Twobeautiful,smilinglittlefacesbeamedupatme.Thosedearlittlegirls…
“Everythingokay?”Bingasked,hisvoicegentle.
Iclearedmythroat.“Mybrotherisanalcoholic.Heslippedagain.”
“I’msorry.”
Iliftedmyeyestohis,andthekindnessreflectedbackalmostbrokeme.“It’sjustthathehastwodaughters,andhe’shadtoraisethembyhimselfthepastfewyears,andweallthoughthe’dkindofturnedacorner.”Ishrugged.“Butheturnedback.”
“Doyouwanttotalk?”
Ithought.“Notaboutthat.Instead,tellmeaboutPhilippe.Willhebebackthissummer?”WasIreallyinterested?Notreally,butitwasthesafestthingIcouldthinkof.AnditwasasfarawayfrommyownproblemasIcouldget.
Bingsignaledformorewine.“Yes.He’llbehereinafewweeks,Ithink.WhenMarieClaudeandEliotaregone.”
“Yes,but…”Ithought.“MarieClaudeisgoingtobeworkingthedesk.Shewon’tbeabletotaketimeoff.Notinthebeginning,anyway.Ihavenoideahowmanypeoplewillbeworkingandwhatthescheduleswillbelike.Shecan’tleavethehotelinthemiddleofthesummer.”
Somethinginhisfacechanged.“Ihadn’tthoughtofthat.”
“Butit’sbeenwhat,fiveyearssincetheirinvolvement?Surelyhe’soverherbynow.”
Bingsighed.“Idon’tthinkhewillevergetoverher.WatchingthemtogetherwaslikenothingI’deverseenbefore.Theywereliketwosoulsinasinglebody.Remarkable.”
Ourfoodwassetdown,whatlookedtobeawhitefish,grilledbeautifully,withslenderstalksofasparagusandtinyroastedpotatoes.Mywineglasswasrefilled.
“Thislooksamazing,”Isaid.Ilookedupandcaughthisexpression.“What?”
“Haveyoueverlovedlikethat?”heasked.
IthoughtaboutthetimesIhadtoldmyselfI’dbeeninlove.Highschooldidn’tcount.Besides,thathadbeen99percentlust.Myfirsthusbandhadbeenasweetmanwhowasmybestfriend,andyes,Ihadlovedhim.Butleavinghimhadbeenmoreofaninconveniencethanaheartbreak.ButTony?Twosouls…yes,thathadbeenus.Twosoulsinasinglebody.Butwerewereally?Hadweeverbeenthat,whenonecouldhavesocarelesslyturnedawayfromtheother?
“Iusedtothinkso,”Isaid,pickingupmyfork.“Butmaybeit’sstillsomethingIcanlookforwardto.”
Henodded.“Maybe.”ChapterTen
ThelobbyofHotelParadiswasquiet.Theflowersstilllookedfresh,thewoodensurfacesshone,theairwasscentedafaintlavender.MarieClaudestoodbehindthedesk,herhandspressedprimlyatherside.Iwasrightatthefrontdoor,watchingasthesmallcrowdgatheredinthecourtyard.Claudinewaschattinghappilyatherguests,herarmswavingexpressivelyasshepointedandsmiled.
Iglancedbackintothesalon.Throughtheclosedglassdoors,Icouldseethelongtable,bedeckedwithmoreflowersandsimplewhiteplattersheapedwithfruitandcheese,fragrantbaguettes,andthinlyslicedmeats,withanothertableofemptyglassesanddecantedopenbottlesfromClaudine’scellar.
Iwasintheuniform:simpleblackskirt,awhiteblouse,blackballetflats.Ihadaredrosepinnedtomylapel,asdidMarieClaude.Sheclearedherthroat.Shewasofficiallyworkingforusnow,havingturnedinhernoticeatthebankwhereshe’dworked.Hercontractwassittingonmydeskinthebackoffice.Readingandsigningithadbeenaveryeye-openingexperience.
ItseemedthateveryworkingpersoninFrancehadacontractforemployment,acontractthatwasveryspecificnotonlyaboutthewage,whichwasconsiderablyhigherthanwhatnewemployeesatTheFieldinghadstartedoutat,butalsoabouthoursworkedperday,perweek,vacationtimeoff,andalonglistofotherdaysoff.Claudinehadbeenveryparticularaboutthecontract,asweweregoingtoneedthemostemployeeswhenmosteveryoneelseinFrancewasonvacation.
EliothadnotbeenhappywithhiswifeworkingthroughtheweekstheyhadalwaystakenofftogotoLyon.MaybeithadoccurredtohimaboutPhilippe.Idon’tknowifMarieClaudehadmadetherealization,butsomethinginthewaysheandClaudinehadmanagedtheconversationmademethinktheywerebothveryawarethathewouldbevisitingand,forthefirsttimeinyears,shewouldberightthere.
Shegavemeanervoussmile,pattedherbrightbluehair,andranherfingerslightlyoverthestackofbrochuresattheendofthedesk.
“Theseareverygood,”shesaid.
“Yes.Theyare.Eliotwasagreathelp,”Itoldher,eventhoughhishelphadbeengivenquitegrudgingly.
Thedoorsuddenlyopened,andClaudinehelditasastreamofmenandwomen,dressedfromcasuallinentosharpblacksuits,camein,allchatteringhappily.Claudineclappedherhands.
“IwouldlikeyoualltomeetLuciaGianetti,ourgeneralmanager,andthewomanresponsibleforallthatyouwillbeseeingthismorning,”shesangoutandbegantoapplaud.
Ifeltmyselfstartingtoblushaseveryonejoinedher.IsmiledandtriednottolookslightlypanickedasIrealizedIdidn’tknowanyone’sname.IhadsuggestedClaudinecreatenametags,butshe’dscoffedattheidea.
“Thatwouldbeaninsult,”shesaid.“Thesepeopleareallwellknownintheirfield,andeveryoneknowswhotheyare.”
“Idon’t,”Icountered.
“I’llintroduceyou,ofcourse.”
“Towhat,thirtypeople?AndI’llremembertheirnameshow?”
Shesighed.“Well,thepresswillhavepassesaroundtheirnecks.Theyprobablywearthosethingseverywhere;theythinkitgivesthemimportance.Youwon’thavetoremembertoomanypeople.”
Ihadnotbeenreassured,andsinceIknewallaboutschmoozing,IhopedIwouldn’tcallanyonebythewrongnames.
Amaninthebackofthepackraisedhishand.“Ah,I’dliketoaskMissGianetti—”
“Marc,”Claudineinterruptedsmoothly,“whydon’twetakethetourfirst?There’ssomuchtosee.Ihavealovelyluncheonprepared,andthenwecanallsitandchat.”Shelookedupward.“So,asyoucansee,theoriginalchandelierisstillhere.Asachild,myjobwastodustallthosecrystals.Luckily,Icanordersomeoneelsetodothatnow.”
Therewasanappreciativemurmuroflaughter.
“Let’sstartwiththeground-floorroomsandthegarden,”shesaid.“Luciawillbewithus,ofcourse.Sheoversawalltherenovations,andI’msureshecanfillinanygapsinmyknowledge.”
Whowasshekidding?Shekneweverythingtherewastoknowabouteverysquareinchofthishotel,renovationsorno.
Thetourbegan,andClaudinewasabsolutelyon.Shelaughedandcharmedandansweredthemostmundanequestionsasthoughtheyweresentdirectlyfromthegods.Astheysteppedoutintothegardens,theoohsandaahscompetedwiththeclickingofdigitalcameras.
Andthegardenlookedbeautiful.Karlhadworkedallweekend,andtherewasn’taweedtobefound.Amuch-oldergentlemansteppedawayfromthecrowdandsatononeofthebenches,hisfoldedhandsacrossthetopofhiscane.
Istoodbesidehim.“It’slovelyouthere,isn’tit?”Iasked.
Henodded.“Yes.IknewClaudine’sfatherandoftenvisitedhere.Iwasmuchyoungerthen,ofcourse,andthetwoofuswouldsitouthere,together,justtalking.Itwasasmallergarden,justafewvegetablesthathegrewforthefamily.”Helookedupatmeandsmiled.“Claudinehasdoneagoodjob.Thiswillbeaverysuccessfulplace,Ithink.Andshehasyoutothank.”
“Shecouldhavedonethiswithoutme,”Isaid.
Heshookhishead.“No.Ifshecouldhavedonethiswithoutyou,itwouldhavebeendoneyearsago.Claudinehasvision,shecaninspire,butshe’snotabletocreate.”
Claudinewascallingandwavingherarmsforeveryonetofollowherbackinside.Thegentlemansighed,leanedonhiscane,andstood.“Iprobablywon’tmakeituptothesecondfloor,”hemuttered.
“Thenyoucanwaitinthesalon,”Itoldhim.“I’llbehappytosneakyouin.AndalthoughIwouldneverdreamofattemptingtoinfluenceareview,I’llevenpouryouaglassofwine.”
Hechuckled.“I’mnotwiththepress.I’mtheministerof,amongotherthings,tourismforFrance.”
Ohmy.“Well,then,”Isaid,“I’llmakesureyougetaverylargeglassofwine.”
Helaughedthenandofferedmehisarm.Itookit,andwewalkedbackinthroughthedoorsthatledtotheofficeandthesalonbeyond.
Heglancedoutthetallwindowstothepatio,tranquilandlovelywithlargeurnsofpaleblossomsandtrailingivy.“Doyoustillhavetheghost?”
Ipulledoutachairforhimtosit.“Yes,butpleasedon’ttellanyone.”
“Ialwayswantedtomeether,”hesaid,droppinghisvoice.“ButnowthatI’mclosertoherreality,I’mnotaseager.”
Ismiledandpouredsomewine.“Ihavetogoupstairs.”
“Ofcourse.”Heregardedmesteadily.“Thismustbeaverydifferentexperienceforyou.TheFieldingwasmuchlarger,wasitnot?”
Iwasstill.“Yes.”
“Andwhenyoufirstwentthere,itwasnotaverygoodhotel.Youmadeitasuccess.”
“Yes.”
“So,turningHotelParadisintoasuccessmustbeeasyforyou?”
Iburstoutlaughing.Icouldn’thelpit.“WhenIgottoTheFielding,Ihadtodealwithafewhundreddisgruntledemployees,unions,theNewYorkCityDepartmentofHealth,dozensofwebsitesandadvertisers,theHotelAssociationofNewYorkCity…”Isighed.“ButIneverhadtopickupapaintbrushorprintmyownbrochures.So,easyisarelativeterm.”
Hesmiled,sippedthewine,andnoddedapprovingly.“Isee.So,thereisadifferentlevelofsatisfaction?”
Ithought.“Yes.Verydifferent.”
“Andwasitworthleavingyourfriendsandfamily?”
Thatonereallygottome.Whatfriends?ThefriendsI’dmadeinNewYorkhadbeenTony’sfriendsfirst,andwhileitwastruetheywelcomedmewithopenarms,noneofthemhadreachedouttomeaftertheyrealizedTonyhadstolenmillions,andsomeofithadbeentheirownmoney.Andasformyfamily,well,thoserelationshipshadbeendifficultforsolongIconsideredFranceawelcomerespite.
“Yes,”Iansweredsimply.
Hewavedhiswineglass.“Go.Doyourduty.Icanassureyou,everyoneisenchanted,andsoonyou’llhavemoregueststhanyoucanhandle.”
Ilefthimthen,andbytheendoftheday,Ithoughthemightberight.Everyoneseemedpleasedandenthusiastic.Muchfoodwaseatenandwinedrunk,andaftereveryonehadleftandthesalonwascleanedandempty,andIfeltlikeIwasgoingtodropfromexhaustion.Isatatmydesktoseeif,infact,wehadanyreservations.
Wehadsixreservationsforouropeningweek.IwassopleasedandsurprisedIhadtolooktwice.Iscrolledthroughtheshortlist,stopped,andalmostburstintotears.
OurveryfirstreservationwasforoneJuliaWilsonofNewYorkCity.
MyJulia.Hereforouropeningday.
Isentheratextthatwasjustaseriesofemojisacrossthescreen.
Shetextedbackimmediately.Butofcourse.
OnceMarieClaudeandClaudinebecamepermanentmembersofthepaintingandcleaningcrew,thingsmovedmorequicklythanIcouldhavehoped.
“Maybewecanmoveuptheopeningdate?”Claudineasked.
Ishookmyhead.“We’restillonaverytightschedule.Wedon’twantguestsherewhilewe’restillpaintingrooms.It’snotsuchagoodlooktobeinthemiddleofrenovationswhileourguestsaretryingtorelaxandenjoythepleasuresofanauthenticRennesexperience.”
Shemadeaface.“Tobehonest,beinginthemiddleofaconstructionsitebasicallyisanauthenticRennesexperience.”
“Okay,then.Let’sgoforthefantasyRennesexperience.”
Wewerescrubbingoneofthebathrooms.
“Ihadnoideathatowningaboutiquehotelwasgoingtobesoglamorous,”shemuttered.
Isatbackandplungedmybrushintoapailofhot,soapywater.“Wecouldhireahousekeepingcrewnow,”Isuggested.
Sheshookherhead.“No.Housekeepingandkitchenwillwaituntilthelastminute.Ican’taffordtopaypeopletodowhatIcandomyselfforfree.Butsoon.”
ClaudineandIwerestillnotinagreementonhowmanystaffweweregoingtohire.Claudinewasverymuchinthe“barebones”camp,insistingthatsincethreepaidstaffmemberslivedon-site,oneofuscouldeasilyjumpinatanytimeifneededtofillinagapinstaffing.
“Thatmayworkfornow,butoncewe’reupandrunning,thingswillbeverydifferent,”Isaid.“AndMarieClaudehasacontractthatisveryspecificaboutherhours.Idon’tseeherbringingupcleantowelsinthemiddleofthenight.”
Shemadeaface.“MarieClaudeisalovelygirl,butsheisabitofaprincess.Butyou’reright.Shewon’tbeatanyone’sbeckandcall.”
Isatback,curious.“What’sgoingtohappenwhenPhilippeishere?”
Shesighed.“I’vebeenthinkingaboutthat.Shewillbeworking,ofcourse.Idon’tknowifEliotwillbehereornot.HemayverywellgotoLyonwithouther.SheandPhilippehavenotseeneachotherinfiveyears.Canapersoncarryatorchforthatlong?Idon’tknow.Firstloveisverystrong,andIknowthattherehasneverbeenanyoneelseforPhilippewhohaslastedmorethanafewmonths.AndEliot,well,heisaveryniceyoungman,buthe’snoPhilippe.”Shecarefullywipedthetilecleanofsudsywater.“Mysonisanextraordinaryperson.Thisisnotjustlovetalking.Youwillunderstandwhenyoumeethim.HeisverymuchlikeBinginmanyways.”Shesmiled.“Andheisveryhandsome.Hewasquitespoiledasachild,butmostofhisbrattinesshasdisappeared.He’squiteanicemannow.Andaverygoodartist.”
“Howdoeshefeelaboutthehotel?”
Shesighed.“Iamhopinghewillseeasuccessful,well-runbusinessthathecanstepintoandtakeoverwhilestillpursuinghisart.Then,maybe,hewillstay.”
Istoodandstretched,thentossedmyscrubbrushbackintothepail.Iwalkedbackintothebedroom.
Alltheroomswerepaintedthesamecreamyshades,butthebedspreadinthisonewaspalelilac.Thequiltingtechnique,asKarlhadpatientlyexplainedtome,indetail,severaltimes,wasavariationontheMarseillescordedquilting,orpiquémarseillais.Thebedwasamahoganyfour-poster,andthesmallwritingdeskbesidethebedwasdelicatewalnut,carvedandsoftlygleaming.Therewasatallarmoire,asmallchairbythedesk,andtwooverstuffedchairsbythewindows,upholsteredinpale-green-stripedsilk.Greenandvioletpillowswerestrewnacrossthebed,andinadditiontothesmallchandelier,thereweretwofloorlampsforlight.Wehadn’thungtheartworkyet,butthreesmallstilllifewatercolorsleanedagainstthewall.Likealltheroomswehadfinishedthisfar,thishaditsownpersonality:calmanddecidedlyfeminine,withabitofwhimseyintheembroideredpillows.Ifoundmyselfhavingverystrongfeelingsaboutsomeofourrooms,andthiswasoneofmyfavorites.
“Howarewedoing?”Claudineasked,comingupbehindme.
Inthethreeweekssincethewebsitehadgonelive,we’dreceivedenoughreservationsthatwewerecurrentlyata50percentoccupancyforJuneandJuly,slightlyhigherinAugust.Sheknewthat;shesawthenumberseverymorning,standingbehindmeasIwentthroughthereservationsonmycomputer.
Iknewwhatshewasreallyasking.
“Foraliterallyunknownentity,wearen’tdoingbadly.WehavemoreEuropeanbookingsthananything,butthat’sbecauseyourlittlepressjunketwassuchasuccess.TheonlyrealexposureinNorthorSouthAmericawe’regettingisthroughVrboandafewsmall,freebookingsites.We’regoingtohavetodependonwordofmouthunlesswespendbigbucksonanadvertisingcampaign,andwedon’thavebigbucks.”
“ThereisahugeCanadianmarket,”shesaid.
“Yes.Iknow.”
“Howdowereachit?Didn’tyouworkinQuebec?”
“Manyyearsago.”
Sheraisedhereyebrows.“Didyouhaveanycontacts?”
“Several.AndIguessIcouldtrytotrackthemdown,butlikeIsaid,thatwasovertenyearsago.”SomewhereIhadabatterednotebookwiththirtyyears’worthofnamesandphonenumbers.Ihadthoughtaboutburningitataparticularlylowpoint,whenIwascertainIwouldneverworkinthehotelindustryagain.Instead,Imoveditfromonedrawertoanotheruntilitfinallyfoundahomeinthebottomofthedresserinmyappart,beneathatumbleofsocksandafewbulkysweaters.
“Tourgroupswouldbegood,”shesaid
“Iknow,butwearen’tbigenough.Mostbustoursarefiftypeople,andwe’retoppedoutatthirty-sixguests.”
“Wehavetheattic,”shesaidthoughtfully.“Maybethreeorfourroomsthere.”
“Butnoelevatorupthere,”Itoldher.“Oneflightofstairsischarmingandold-world,butthestairstotheatticarenarrowandbadlylit.Remember,someofthesetourscatertoseniors,andthey’dhaveahardenoughtimewiththemainstaircase.Totheattic?Noway.”Ihadabriefvisionofabentoldladyplungingtoherdeathwhiletryingtogettoherroom.
“Isuppose.Butlookatthisroom.I’dclimbafewextrastepstosleephere.”Claudineputherarmaroundmyshouldersandgavemeasqueeze.“Iknewyouweretherightpersonforthejob.”
“Ididn’tknow,”Itoldher.“Ialmostleftthatfirstnight.WhenmyfriendJuliagetshere,youcanthankherfortalkingmedown.”
“Andnow?”
“NowIcan’timaginebeinganywhereelse.”
Shedroppedherarm.“Thatisgoodtohear.Now,let’sfinishcleaningthisbathroom.Andthenwegoacrossthehall.Yes?”
Yes.
IntheweeksthatI’dlivedthere,IhadmanagedtogivemytinyappartabitofpersonalitymoreinlinewithmyoldsuiteatTheFielding.Thereweretwocomfortablechairsnowatthewindow,withabookshelfdisplayingsomeofmyfavoritechildhoodreadsinFrench,andacollectionofobjectsfoundattheSaturdaymarketandvariousthriftshops:abrasslampworthyofAladdinandhisgenie,adelicatefootedsilverbowl,mercuryglasscandlesticks,acopperpitcher.Therewerewatercolorsonthewallsnow,andafewcopperpotshungfromarackoverthetinykitchenstove.Ididn’tcookmuchbuthadmasteredtheomelet,coqauvin,andthegalette,theBretoncrêpecookedonitsownshallowpan.Iateseveraltimesaweekacrossthestreet,usuallyalarge,somewhatlatelunch.
VeraandIusuallysharedaglassofcideronthebenchoutsideherfrontdoor.KarloftengrabbedmeasIwasjustopeningmydoor,andI’dgetaninvitationforport.Colin’sflatwascrammedwithseveralstringedinstrumentsofvaryingageandsize,andIcouldoftenhearhimplayingsomethingonhisfavoriteviolin,themusicdriftingthroughthenowalways-openwindows.
MylifehadsettledintoapatternthatIfoundeasyandcomforting.Iknewthatoncethehotelofficiallyopened,therewouldbeawholenewnormal,soIrelishedthepredictabilityofmydaysandnightsnow.
MarieClaudeandEliothadtheflatonmyright,andalthoughthewallswereafootthickandsolidlimestone,Iheardthemarguingmoreandmore.Notwords,justtheloudanddeeprumbleofEliot’svoice,andthehigher,moreconciliatorynotesasMarieClaudeanswered.Often,afterthesefights,IcouldhearthedoorslamandseeEliotwalkingacrossthecourtyardandouttheirongates.
Afteronesuchevening,IcouldhearwhatcouldhaveonlybeenMarieClaudesobbing.Iclosedmycomputerandstood.IdidnotwanttoknowwhatwassoobviouslywrongbetweenherandEliot,butshe’dbeencomingintothehotellateinthemornings,hereyesredandshadowed,tiredandcross.ThatwouldnotdooncetheHotelParadisopened.Whateverissuesthecouplehadneededtoberesolvedbythen.
Iwentoutmydoorandstoodinthecourtyard,listening.Yes,shewascrying.PoorMarieClaude.
IheardsomeonebehindmeandturnedtofindColinleaningoutofhisdoorway,shakinghishead.
“They’reatitagain?”heasked.
Inodded.“Ithinkso.Hejustleft.”
Hemotionedmetowardhimandheldopenthedoorofhisflat.
Ihadn’tbeeninside,justhadgottenaglimpseofwhatseemedtobearoomfilledwithnothingbutstringinstruments,andasIwalkedin,Isawthatyes,therewereviolinsandcelloseverywhere,buttherewasalsoalongleathersofaandasmalltablewithonechair.
“Haveaseat,”hesaid.“Wine?”
Ishookmyheadandstayedstanding.“Ilovehearingyouplayintheevenings,”Itoldhim.
Heduckedhisheadandblushed.“Thankyou.Isometimeswonderifit’sannoying.”
“Ican’timagineiteverbeingannoying.”
“Well,”hesaid,makingaface,“I’llprobablyhavetostoponcethehotelopens.”
Ishookmyhead.“Notatall.Whyshouldyou?”
Hepushedhishandsintothepocketsofhiskhakis.“Won’titdisturbtheguests?”
“Idon’tthinkso.Onlythefront-facingroomshaveachanceofhearingyou,andmostpayingcustomerswillthinktheliveentertainmentisaperk.”
Hesmiled.“That’sverykind.Please.Sit.”
Idid.Iwasunsurewhyhe’dinvitedmein.Hewasaquietandfairlyprivateman,andafterthefirstfewwhirlwinddaysofhimbeinginoneveryconversationI’dhadwithClaudine,he’dsteppedawayandbecomeapatientandhelpful,butveryreticent,additiontothepaintingcrew.Claudinehadbeenright.Helovedthetediousandfiddlyjobslikepaintingthefrontgateandthewroughtironchairs.IknewhetaughtmusicattheuniversityinRennes,hewasn’tmarriedorappearedtohaveanyonepersonwhowasaconstantinhislife,andhewasalwaysdrinkingteafromadingywhitemug.
Hepickedthemugupnow.“Ifnotwine,thentea?”
Ishookmyheadagain.“WhatcanIdoforyou,Colin?”Iasked.
Helookedflusteredandsatdownacrossfrommeonthesinglechair.“Iknowthatwe’reallgettingnewlocksoncethehotelopens,andI’mfinewiththat,butI’mworriedaboutour,well,personalspace.We’regoingtohaveallsortsofpeoplewalkinginandoutofhere,aren’twe?”
Inodded.“Isurehopeso.”
“Yes.Yes,ofcourseyou’dwantthat.That’sthewholepoint,isn’tit?Tohaveguests?”
“Yes,butthefrontcourtyardwillbemoreofapassage.Guestswon’tcongregatethere.Wehaveplentyofpublicspaceadjacenttothehotel.Ican’tforeseeguestsdraggingbenchesfromthegardentositrightoutinfront.”
“Yes.Isupposeyou’reright.It’sjust…”Hepaused,thenleanedforward,hiselbowsrestingonhisthighs.“We’veallrathergottenusedtothepeaceandquiet.”
“I’msureyouhave.Butyouknewthatoncethehotelopened,thatwouldchange.”
“Yes.Yes,ofcourse.But,well,noneofusreallyeverimagineditwouldopen.”
Ididn’tknowwhatIwassupposedtosayaboutthat,soIsaidnothing.
Heclearedhisthroat.Obviously,hethoughtitwasmyturn,soIsearchedforsomethingtosayotherthan“Well,inthatcase,we’lljustshuteverythingdown.”
“Colin,Claudineisveryawareofallofyou.Afterall,you’vebeenlivinghereaverylongtime,andconsideringtherentyoupay,well,let’sjustsayshe’sbeenmorethanaccommodating.Andnow,it’syourturn.Tobeaccommodating.”
Hegrimaced.“Wewereafraidofthat.”
Ishookmyhead.“Allofyouherehaveinvestedyourtimeand,insomecases,yourmoneyintoturningthisplaceintoasuccessfulventure.Idon’tunderstand.Whatdidyouallexpect?”Inarrowedmyeyes.“Whoelseisworriedaboutthis?”
“Allofus.VeraandKarl.Bing…Well,itdoesn’treallyaffectBing.NothingseemstoaffectBing.MarieClaudeisjustlookingathernewjobandwhatthatmeans.EliotismoreoutragedhiswifeisnotfollowinghimtoLyonlikeshehaseverysummer,buthedoesn’twantstrangepeoplewanderinginandoutofhisflat.”
Ifrowned.“Whywouldanyofourguestsbeinhisflat?”
“YouknowwhatImean.”
“No,Idon’t.Look,justbecausethere’sawallaroundusdoesn’tmeanthisisallthehotel.Yourprivatespaceswillremainprivate.Ifwewerejustonastreetsomewhere,andahotelwasonthesamestreet,itwouldbethesame,right?Strangerscomingandgoingpastyourdoor,right?”
Hefrowned,thennodded.“Yes.Butthegateswillbeopenduringtheday.Anyonecanwanderin.”
“Whichiswhyyouwillallhavelocks.Andatnight,thegateswillbelocked,andonlyguestswillhaveaccess.”
“Well,whatiftheguestsare…youknow.”HemadeaveryFrenchgesturewithhishands.
“Areyousuggestingtheymightbecriminals?”
“Maybe.”
Isighed.“So,you’reworriedthatpeoplewhoarepayingafairlyheftypricetagforaprivateroominaboutiquehotelwillactuallybeherejusttobreakintoyourtwo-roomappartementandrobyoublind?”
Helookedembarrassed.“Whenyouputitthatway,itsoundsridiculous.”
“Becauseitis.Ithinkifacriminalmastermindwereplanningadangerousheist,thisparticularlocationwouldnotbeatopchoice.”Istoodup.“Didyoualldrawstrawstodeterminewhowasgoingtohavethisconversationwithme?”
Helookedsheepish.“Actually,yes.”
“Andyoulost?”
“Ohyes.”Hestoodandlaughed.
“Whydon’tyoujusttalktoClaudine?”
“She’sbeenverygoodtoallofus,andwedon’twanttoseemungrateful.Iwouldhateforhertothink,well,youknow…”Heshrugged.“Youwon’ttellher?”
“Ofcoursenot,becauseit’snotanissue.Buttellme,whowasworriedabouthavingallhisvaluablesstolenbyamasterthief?”
“Karl,actually.”
“AnddoesKarlhaveanythingworthstealing?”
Helaughed.“NowthatIthinkaboutit,probablynot.”
“Well.Youcantellthemallthey’llbefine.”
“Okay.”Heduckedhishead.“Thankyouforthis.”
“Noproblem.”Iwenttothedoor.“Goodnight,Colin.”
“Goodnight.”
Iwentbackoutside.MarieClaudehadstoppedcrying,andthecourtyardwasinshadows.Icouldhearthefaintsoundoftrafficandtherustleofleaves.IhadgrownaccustomedtothepeaceandquietaswellandknewthatIwasgoingtomissthesetranquilnights.
Butwewouldadjust.Allofus.
WehadworkedoutaschedulewhereeitherMarieClaudeorIwouldbeatthedeskduringthedayandeveninghours,andathirdperson,whowouldhopefullybefluentinEnglish,wouldbehiredtofillintheshiftswedidnotcover.Claudinewastobeoncallovernight.
Claudinerefusedtohaveatraditionalphonesysteminstalled,andIdidn’tblameher.Thecostwashigh,andshedidn’twantmorewiresrunningthroughtheplasterwalls.Wehadworkedoutasystemwhere,uponcheck-in,theguestwouldenterourmobilephoneintotheircellphoneandputusonspeeddial,sothattheycouldcallastaffpersonatanytime.Thehousephonewouldbecarriedbywhoeverwasonduty,andClaudinewouldtakeitafterelevenatnight.
Wehadn’thiredthethirdpersonforthedesk,butwehadtime.Iwasn’tlookingforwardtoit,asIfoundthathiringinFrancewasamuchdifferentsituationfromhiringintheUS.Theideaofeveryonehavingaworkcontractwasnewtome.IhadassumedthatmyowncontractwithClaudinewasbecauseofmyposition,butapparently,anyfull-timeemployeehiredforanypositionsignedacontractforwork,basedonagovernment-issuedworkcodethatwasveryspecificandworker-friendly.
IhadaskedClaudinetodothehiring,becausesomeoftheguidelinesweresimplybeyondmyabilitytograspandunderstand.Forexample,anemployee’sschedulewasfixed.AtTheFielding,everymanager’snightmarewastheweeklyscheduleforhourlyemployees,tryingtoplugholesforvacationorcallouts,movingemployeesarounddoctorappointmentsandkidssoccergames.Here,theemployeehadasetscheduleandtheyworkedit,everyday,weekin,weekout.
Butontheflipside,therewereaseriesofholidaysanddesignateddaysoff,longvacations,andthelengthofthecontract—theminimumyoucouldhireapersonforwassixmonths.Iftheemployeedidn’tworkout,thenyoudidn’tsignanothercontract.But—
“Claudine,whatiftheemployeeisascrewup?”
Wewereinthebackoffice,lookingthroughonlineapplications.
Shefrowned.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Whatiftheemployeeis,well,bad?”
“Thereareguidelines.Youcanfiresomeoneforcause,ofcourse.”
“Butfrontdeskpeopleneedtobeacertaintype.Notjusthelpful.Theyneedtobewillingtogoaboveandbeyondfortheguest.That’swhat’sgoingtomakeourhoteldifferentfromothers:ourexcellentcustomerservice.”
Sheshookherhead.“Youcan’tletapersongowithoutcause.Andanunwillingnesstogoaboveandbeyondisnotcause.”
“Whatiftheysleepwalkthroughtheday?Wecan’thavethat.”
“Thatiswhyitisveryimportanttohaveathoroughinterviewprocess.It’stheonechanceyouhavetoassessaperson’spersonality.”Shetiltedherhead.“Surely,you’vehiredhundredsofpeople.Youshouldbeabletotell,whatisthatexpression?Thewheatfromthechaff.”
Iheldmytongue.Yes,Ihadhiredhundredsofpeople.Well,maybenothundreds,butenoughthatIhadoncebeenveryconfidentinmyhiringskills.IusedtothinkIcouldreadaperson,knowtheirstrengthsandweaknesses,inthefirsttenminutesofconversation.
ButthatwasbeforethemanItrustedaboveeveryoneelseinmylife,themanI’dthoughtwasoneofakind,turnedouttobeacommoncrook.
ClaudinewatchedmeandseemedtohomeinonmythoughtsevenasIwastryingtomakesenseofthem.“Youcannotspendtherestofyourlifedoubtingyourselfbecauseonepersonmanagedtomakeafoolofyou.”
“Hedidn’tjust‘makeafool’ofme,Claudine.He—”
Hewhat?Shatteredmyself-worth?Mademequestionmyabilitytoreadandunderstandpeople?Destroyedyearsofconfidencebuiltfromexperience,mistakesmadeandlearnedfrom,andcarefulobservationofanindustrythatwasstillverymuchanoldboys’club,despiteageneraloutwardacceptanceandapprovalofmywork?
Sheleanedforward.“Ican’tbegintoimaginewhatdamageyouregohassuffered,buthere,inthisplace,youhaveprovenyourselfaworthyandvaluedemployee.Donotlookbackward,Lucy.Continuetolookforward,becausethatiswhereyourlifeisgoing.Itwillnevergoback.”
Inodded.“Yes.But.”Ishookmyhead.“Alltheseconditions.”
Shesmiled.“Weareacountrythathasneverforgottentheworkingman.Ineverysizablecityortown,thereisstillthecenter,wheretheguillotinestood.”
IhadseentheplaceinRennes,acircleofcobblestones,withasinglewhiteheadinmarbleatthecenter.
“Iwillworryaboutthecontracts,”shesaid.“Butyouwillhire,yes?”
So,Ididthehiring,butMarieClaude,whoIthoughtwasashoo-in,wasdigginginherheels.Shedidnotlookhappy.Infact,sheglaredatmeasthoughIsuggestedshewalkoutofthehotel,throughthecourtyard,andoutintothestreet,naked.
“Whatdoyoumean,delivertowels?”sheasked.
“Here’sthething,”Iexplained.“Claudineisreluctanttohiretoomanypeopleuntilwefigureouttheworkflow.Youcanunderstandthat,right?So,ourhousekeepingstaffwillonlybehereinthemornings,tomakebeds,cleantherooms,andtidyupallthepublicspaces.Butitdoesn’tmakesensetohavesomeonehereintheevenings,justsittingaround,doesit?”
Sheshookherheadslowly.“No,Isupposenot.”
“Exactly.So,ifyou’reondutyatthedeskduringtheeveningsandaguestneedstowels,youcanbringthemup.Yourcontractsays…”Iscannedthepage,oneofmany,untilIfoundthespot.“‘Willprovideadditionalservicesasdeterminedbythegeneralmanager.’That’sme.”
Shehuffedandsetherjaw.“Areyougoingtodelivertowels?”sheasked.
“Iwill.I’lldelivertowels.I’llrearrangeflowersifIfindanydrooping.I’llstraightenrugsthatareaskew.I’llpickupwineglassesthathavebeenforgotten.I’lldowhateverIneedtodotomakesureeveryguestthatchecksoutoftheHotelParadisgoeshomeandtellsalltheirfriendsandfamilywhatagreattimetheyhad.”
Shemadealittleface.“Well,then,IsupposeIcandelivertowelsifIneedto.”
Ismiled.“Thankyou,MarieClaude.”
Shesmiledback.“You’rewelcome,Lucy.”ChapterEleven
Iinterviewedthreepeopleforthefrontdeskpositionandhiredaretiredteacher,Celestine,thinkingthathavingdealtwithunrulychildren,she’dbeperfectwithdemandingguests.ShespokeexcellentEnglish,aswellasDutchandRussian.IhadfoundthatmostofthepeoplewhoappliedforajobrequiringEnglishspokeatleastoneadditionallanguageaswellasFrench.MarieClaudespokeexcellentGerman,sowehadprettymuchtheentirecontinentofEurope,aswellasEnglish-speakingcountries,covered.
Ourhousekeepingstaffconsistedoftwosisters,InesandRose,bothattendinguniversitypart-time.Theywereperfectlyhappytocleanrooms,changesheets,andworkinthekitchenasneeded.Thecommerciallaundryequipmentinthecellardidn’tcauseeitherofthemtoblink,whichimpressedmetonoend,asIwentintoamildpanicthatthehugemachineswouldeatallmyclotheseverytimeIdidmypersonallaundry.
Karlrefusedtobeputonthepayroll,althoughhehadexpandedhisrolebeyondtendingthegardentokeepingthecourtyardandpatiofreeofdebris,aswellasattendingtoalltheplantsandplantersinsideandoutsideHotelParadis
“HowcanItakemoneyfordoingwhatIlove?”heaskedme.
“Ilovemyjob,too,Karl,”Isaid.“ButIstillneedreadycash.”
Heshookhishead.“Ihaveaverygoodpension.”Hegrinned.“Icouldexplainittoyou,butIthinksometimesthatmaybeIexplaintoomanythings?”
Igrinnedback.“Sometimes.”
“Ihavetopicksomeroses,thentendtothegarden.Wehavemanytomatoes.”Hegrinned.“AndIwillnotmentiontoClaudinethatyouwantedtoputmeonyourpayroll.”Heheldhisfingertohislips.“Iswear,notaword.”
“Thankyou,Karl.”
Hebowedoutoftheoffice,andIcheckedanotheritemoffmylist.Iglancedatmyphone.StavrosandIweremeetinginafewminutestotalkaboutthenewmenu.
Stavrosmetmeinthesalon,lookingexcited,holdingpiecesofpaperinvarioussizesandshapes.Hespreadthemacrossthetableinfrontofme.
“Hereisthemenu,”hesaidproudly.“Josianehelped,ofcourse.Shelikesthislongandnarrowshape.Ipreferthetraditionalsquare.It’suptoyou.”
Theshapeofthemenushadnotgivenmeajolt.Itwasthewordsonthem.“Stavros,doyoureallymeantomakechocolatechippancakes?”
InFrance,breakfastwasaninconsequentialmeal.TheFrenchdidnoteatpancakes.Orwaffles,Frenchtoast,oreggsBenedict.Yetallthoseitemswereonhismenu.
Stavrosbeamedproudly.“Ihavebeenpracticing.Ithinktheyareverygood.”
“But—”HowdidItellhimthatthismenuwasexactlywhatIdidnotwant?“Ithoughtwe’dgowithmoretraditionallyFrenchfoodforbreakfast.Youknow,tartinesandjam,soft-boiledeggs,fruit.”IfeltthehairsonthebackofmyneckstandonendasIreadthedescriptionoftheSundayomelet:threeeggs,bacon,brie,andavocado,servedwithhomefriesandryetoast.ThatwasnotFrenchbreakfastfood.ThatwasAmericandinerfood.
Stavrosshookhishead.“YouarecateringtoAmericans,yes?TheywillwanttoeatAmericanfood.”
“But—”Istalled.“NotallourguestswillbeAmerican.Weneedamore,ah,internationalmenu.”
Hefrowned.“Porridge?”Onceagain,afoodnotcommonlyfoundonthetableinFrancebeforenoon.
“No.Imean,okay,maybe.ButourguestsarecominghereforaverytraditionalBretonexperience.Ourroomsareold-fashionedandcharming.Ourbreakfastneedstobethesame.We’regettingbaguettesandpastriesfromtheboulangerie?”Thebakeryaroundthecornerhadbreadthatwas,evenforFrance,extraordinary,andtheyagreedtosupplyuseverymorningwithloavesandpastries.
Stavrosnodded.Icouldseealittleoftheenthusiasmleavehisface.
“Well,then,let’skeepitsimplefornow,okay?Wecanserveherewhatyou’dserveacrossthestreet.Thatwillmakeitmucheasieroneveryoneiftheredoesn’thavetobeafullstaffinthekitchen.”
Hisexcitementvanished.“Isee.”
“So.”Ipickedupthelongandnarrowmenu.Stavroshadthreedaughterswhowereworkingwithhim,andtheyallhadabetterideaofwhatIwantedthanhedid.“Ilikethisonehere.Josianeisright;it’salittledifferentandveryattractive.”HotelParadiswasprintedacrossthetop,andattheverybottomwasourtrademarkfleur-di-lis.Thefontwasclassicandsimple,andonhermenu,therewasnotachocolatechiporcaramelizedbananatobefound.“TellJosianethisisperfect.Canwerunthisoffonourcomputer?”Wecouldusecardstockandchangethemenuonawhim,basedonwhatfruitorspecialtypastrywehadavailable.
Hesighed,clearlydisappointedthathewouldnotbeflippingpancakesandfryingbacon.“Asyouwish,Lucy.AndIsupposeitwillbeeasier.Iwasgoingtohavetohiresomeoneforthekitchentohelp.”
Ijumpedonthat.“Exactly.Thisway,Simonecancomeover,getthingsallsetup,andwe’lljustputthefoodonasideboard,andshe’llservedrinks.Thegirlswejusthiredforhousekeepingarewillingtochipinasneeded.”
Helookedcrushed.“Iwasreadingaboutbarbecue.”
“Excuseme?”Ilookedupfromthemenu.“Barbecue?Forbreakfast?”
Heshookhishead.“No.Tohavebarbecuenightattherestaurantforyourguests.”
Isatback,thinking.“Thatmightbeaverygoodidea,Stavros.”
Hisexpressionbrightened.“Really?”
“Yes.Wecoulddoithere.Justonceaweek.Maybe.WhatdoesFrenchbarbecuetastelike?”
“Idon’tknow.I’llexperiment.”
Ismiled.“Makesureyoubringsomeofyourexperimentsovertome.Afterall,IworkedforthreeyearsinHouston,Texas.Iknowbarbecue.”
Hebeamed,allhisgoodhumorrestored.“Ofcourse.AndSimoneknowsabluegrassband.Wecouldhavemusic.”
“Abluegrassband?Really?TheFrenchlikebluegrass?”
Hegathereduphismenus.“Wehaveabitofanobsessionwithbluegrassmusic.”
“I’llrunthisbyClaudine,butyoudoyourresearchandseewhatyoucancookup.”
Iwatchedhimleave,andIglancedaroundthesalon.Thereweremorethanenoughtablesforpeopletoeatdinner,andthen,ofcourse,tablescouldgoouttothepatio.Wecouldsetupalongbuffet,withbarbecueandthefixings:cornonthecob,coleslaw…WhatwastheFrenchversionofbakedbeans?
Istoodupandwalkedouttothepatio.Asusual,itwasveryquietandstill,withoutsomuchasaleafrustling.“Doyoulikemusic?”Icalledoutsoftly.
Ifeltaslightbreeze,butnothingelse.“Isthatayesorano?”
Thebreezefaded.IwentbackintoHotelParadis.
Georgescameintothebackoffice,acigarettebehindoneear,hiscaptwistinginhishands.
“Youwantseeme?”hesaidinhissomewhatfracturedEnglish.
“Yes.Thanksforcomingin.Please,sitdown.”
Heperchedontheedgeofthechairandlookedasthoughhecouldbeoffandbackoutthedooratthesoundofthegun.
Ihadbeenrehearsingthisallmorning.“Firstofall,Iwanttowelcomeyoutotheteam,”IsaidinFrench.
Herelaxedabit.“Thankyou.”
“Now,I’vehadmagneticsignsmadeupforyoutoputoneithersideofyourcar.”Ihadthemreadyonmydeskandpulledoneoutofthelargecardboardfoldertheyhadcomein.“See?”
Itwassimple.Anivorybackground,withapeacock-bluefleur-de-lisinthecenter,andthewordsHotelParadisprintedinthesamefontasourlogo.
“Youcanjustputthemonthesidesofthecarwhenyou’redoinghotelbusiness,andthentakethemoffwhenyou’renotonduty.”
Intheory,he’dbeondutyallthetime.Thatwasthedeal,thatourguestswouldbehispriority.ButhewasalsogoingtobeferryingaroundotherpassengersasanindependentUber,andClaudinehadnoproblemwiththat.
Hetookthesignfrommyhandsandlookedatitclosely.“Verynice.”
“Yes,itis.”Isatupalittlestraighter.Herewasthetrickypart.“Butaboutyourcar,Georges.Itneeds…”What?Anewpaintjob,theupholsteryrepaired,theairfreshenerspulledofftherearviewmirror,thesmellofsmokescrubbedaway.“Sprucingup.”
Hefrowned,loweredthesign,andglaredatme.“Marcelisperfect.”
Thisconfusedme.“Marcel?”
“TheVolvo.”
“Ah.”He’dnamedhiscarMarcel?“I’msureitis.Heis.Butmaybewecouldlookatit—Imean,him—togetherandseeifanyimprovementscanbemade.”
Heputthesign,somewhatforcefully,backonthedesktop.“Noimprovements.Marcelstarts,andhegoes.Ihaveheat,andallthewindowsopenandclose.”
Goodheavens,whatwastheproblem?“I’msure.Butcanwejust,youknow,takealook?”
Hismustachequivered,buthenodded.Hestoodabruptlyandheadedoutthedoor.
Ifollowedhimoutintothecourtyard,whereMarcelwasparkedbytheentrancetothegarden.Georgestrottedaheadofme,presumablytodosomequickcleanuptothecarinterior.
Ornot.Whenhereachedthedriver’ssideofthecar,heturnedandfacedme,armsfoldedacrosshischest,asourexpressiononhisface.
“Marcelisperfect,”herepeated.
Iopenedthedoortothebackseatandpeeredinside.
Itstillsmelledofcigarettesmokeandcheeseandfadedpine.Theairfreshenersstilldangledfromtherearviewmirror,anditdidn’tlookasthoughtheyhadbeenchangedoutoraddedto.Therewasalongsplitintheseamoftheseatbehindthepassengerfrontseat.Thefloorwaslitteredwithscrapsofdriedleaves,receiptsIrecognizedfromMonoprix,sixemptycoffeeto-gocups,presumablyempty,andawitheredorange.
IstraightenedandlookedatGeorges.“Thisisnotacceptable.Whenwasthelasttimeyouvacuumed?”
Hismustachequiveredagain.“Vacuum?”
“Yes.There’ssomuchstuffinthefloorbackhere,there’snoroomforapassengertoputtheirfeet.”Ipushedpasthimandopenedthedriver’s-sidedoor.Piledonthepassengerseatwasacardboardboxfilledwitholdbooks,andonthefloorweremorecoffeeto-gocups,thehand-printedHotelParadissign,andthebaldheadofafemalemannequin.Ididn’twanttoknow.
“Georges,guestscomingtoHotelParadisfromthetrainwillbemetbyyou.Youarethefirstimpression.Andthis—”Igesturedwithahand.“Thisisnotagoodfirstimpression.”Ilookedathim.Hewaswearingcrumpledkhakis,adenimbutton-downshirtoveraplaingreenT-shirt,andonhisfeetwerescuffedboots.Ilookedhimupanddown.“Youarenotagoodfirstimpression.”
Hismouthopenedtosaysomething,itshut,thenitopenedagain.“MarieClaudehasbluehair,”hesputtered.
Inodded.“Yes.Butit’scleanbluehair.Andheruniformwillbeawhiteshirtandblackpantsorskirt.Maybeyoushouldmakethatyouruniform,too.”
Hiseyeswidened.“Iwouldneverwearaskirt.”
Istoppedbotheyesmidwaythroughtheirroll.“No,Georges.Youdon’thavetowearaskirt.Butyouhaveawhiteshirt,don’tyou?Andapairofblackpants?”
Henodded,hiseyesnarrowed.
“Good.Now,aboutcleaninguptheinside.”Icastaquickeyeoverthebodyofthecar,takinginthemudaroundthewheelsandsplashedupagainstthebumpers,thedustywindshield,thebitsofunknownfoliagetrappedunderthewindshieldwipers.“Andoutside.Whenwasthelasttimeyouwenttoacarwash?”
“Carwash?”herepeatedblankly.Iclosedmyeyes.WeretherecarwashesinFrance?Therehadtobe.Surely,cleaningyourcarcouldnotbeexclusivelyanAmericanobsession.
“Wewouldpayforit,ofcourse,”Itoldhim.“Thehotel.We’dhaveMarcelcleanedinsideandout,andmaybealittletouch-uponthepaintjob.”Therewerenoticeablescratchesalongthefrontandsidesofthehood.Notanespeciallyreassuringsightforgueststoseefirstthing.
Henoticeablysoftened,andIrealizeditwasn’ttheactualcleaningheobjectedtobutthepayingforthecleaningthatwastheissue.
“Youalso,”IsaidinEnglish,“havetopracticespeakingEnglish.”Iknewthatheunderstoodverywell,butneverspokeinEnglish.“Fromnowon,anytimeyoudoworkforus,youhavetospeakEnglish.Understood?”
Hefrownedagain.“WhatiftheguestisFrench?”
Isighed.“Then,ofcourse,you’llspeakFrench.”
“Whataboutifthey’rePolish?”
“Thenuseyourbestjudgment,Georges.Now,doyouknowaplacethatcancleanyourcar?Anddoabitofbodywork?”
“Yes.AndIbringyouthebill?”
“Yes.”
“D’accord.”
Ishookmyhead.“No.Agreed.Sayit.”
Hefinallysmiled.“Agreed.”
Claudinescowled.“Whatdoyoumean,dryrun?Whatisadryrun?”
“Weneedforallourstafftoperforminrealtime.Withguests.”
“Andwheredowegettheseguests?”sheasked.
“Well,Colin,Karl,andVera.HaveBingcomedownfromhisstudio.Eliot.WecanaskStavros’sdaughters.”
Shenarrowedhereyes.“NotJosiane.”
Iwavedahand.“Maybenotherkids.WecaninviteRaoulandhisgirlfriend.HowaboutGeorges?Ishemarried?”
“Threetimes,”Claudinesaidabsently,hereyesonthecomputerscreenasshescrolledthroughourreservations.
“So,invitehisex-wives.Weneedpeople.Weneedtohavecheck-insandbedsmadeandbreakfastservedandissuesresolved.”
Sheliftedherhead.“Whatissues?”
“Exactly.Wewon’tknowuntiltheyhappen,andwedon’twanttobeunpreparedifithappenstoaguest.”
“Youwantmetostartpayingpeopletoworkheresowecanwaitonthesamepeoplewholivehere?”Sheshookherhead.“YouseemtothinkIhavemoneytospare.”
“Claudine,Iknowyoudon’thavemoneytospare,butthisisnecessary.”
Shedrummedherfingernailsagainstthedesktop.“Really?”
“Thisismyjob.Remember?”
Shetookadeepbreath.“Fine.AndI’llreachouttoafewofmyfavoriteoldclientsandseewhowantsafreestayfortheweekend.Unlesswecanchargethem?”Shelookedupatmehopefully.“Maybehalfrate?”
“Ifyouthinkyoucangetawaywithchargingpeopletostaysomeplacethatisn’tofficiallyopenandwithanuntrainedstaff,goahead.”
Shegrinned.“Icangetawaywithit,”shesaid,andIhadnodoubtthatshewould.
Ispenttheeveningwalkingtoeachflatandextendingtheinvitation.Everyonewasflatteredandagreed,exceptEliot,whobalkedandarguedwithMarieClaude,claiminghewouldnotbeabletoenjoyhimselfknowingthathiswifewasworking.
“Eliot,allwehavetodoisgotobed,wakeup,andhavebreakfast,”MarieClaudecajoled.“Then,doitagainthenextnight.Whatistheproblem?”
Ileftthem.Ihad,atthatpoint,nopatienceleftforEliotandhiscontinuousobjectionstoeverythingfromthesizeofthenewkeycardtothelengthofMarieClaude’sskirt.
IheadedbacktothehotelandclimbedthestairstoBing’sloft.Wehadofficiallyfinishedpaintingsixdaysbefore,andIhadnotseenmuchofhimsince.Claudine,MarieClaude,andIhadfinishedoffthelastoftherooms,arrangingfurniture,hangingartwork,andfluffingpillows.
AsIclimbedthelastflightofstairs,Icouldhearhimtalking.Didhehavecompany?Ididn’twanttointerrupt,butIhadasuddenurgetoseehim.Itwasasuddenurgetoseewhohemighthavebeenentertaininginhisstudio.
“Bing?”Icalled.
“Comeup,”heboomedandcontinuedhisconversation.
AsIreachedthetopofthestairs,Isawhewassittingathisworktable,phoneinonehand,hislaptopopen.Heglancedatmeandwavedmefartherin.
“No,Ican’t.Itoldyouthatwon’twork.Whataboutthethird?”hesaidintothephone.
Iwalkedin,circledbehindhim,andsankintooneofthelarge,overstuffedchairsbythewindow.Itwasjustgettingdark,andthebrilliantorangeofthesunsetcastthestudioinawarmglow.Ileanedmyheadbackagainstthecushionsandclosedmyeyes.InthealmostfourmonthsIhadbeenatHotelParadis,IfeltlikeIhadbeenlivinginanongoingstateofexhaustion,eitherfrommanuallabororthedaylongexpeditionsintoandaroundRenneswithBing.
Hewastalkingaboutadeadline.Withhiseditor?Isometimesforgotthathehadawholeotherlife,averysuccessfuloneatthat,outsideofHotelParadis,andthatlifeinvolvedwritingandpainting,businessdeals,andscheduledmeetings.
Itookadeepbreathandfeltmyselfslippingintosomethingofahalfsleep,whenhisvoicejoltedmeback.
“Didyoujustcomeupheretonap?”heasked,laughing.“Orwastheresomeulteriormotive?”
Ishookmyselfbacktowakefulness.“Sorry.It’sbeenabusykindofaday.”
Hewassittingacrossfromme,hisbodystretchedout,legscrossedinfrontofhim.“Busy?Letmeguess.Flowerarranging?Towelfolding?No,wait…howaboutliningupthesilverwareinthekitchen?”
Iimmediatelyfeltmyimaginaryhacklesrise,andIonceagainfoughttheurgetothrowsomethingathimforbeingsoglib,condescending,patronizing,chauvinistic…
“Actually,ClaudineandIcarriedelevenquiltsoutintothesidealleyandhungthemtoairout,thenrearrangedthetablesinthesalon—again—becauseStavroswantedthebuffettableclosertothekitchen,thenwentthroughourchecklistineverysingleroom,then—”
Heheldupbothhandsinfrontofhim.“Okay.Igiveup.”Heloweredhishandsandlookedsheepish.“Ididitagain,didn’tI?”
“Didwhatagain?Assumethatmyworkherewasn’timportant?Orstressful?Ortiring?”
“I’msorry,”hesaidquietly.“Now.WhatcanIdoforyou?”
“CheckintothehotelthisThursdayandstaytheweekend,”Isaid.
Heraisedhiseyebrows.“Checkin?Here?Downstairs?”
Inodded.“Yes.NextMonday,weareofficiallyopenforbusiness,butI’dliketohaveadryrunbeforethepayingguestsarrive.Thereareamillionsmallthingsthatcangowrong.IthinkI’veaccountedforallofthem,butIneed,well,thewholestaffneedspractice.So,I’dlikeyoutopackasuitcaseandarriveatthedesksometimeonThursday.I’vecreatedreservationsforallourpracticeguests,andwe’regoingtohaveafullstaffallweekend,justtomakesurenothingscrewsup.”
Hepursedhislipsandnodded.“Yes,Isupposethatmakessense.WhatshouldIdowhileI’maguesthere?”
Ishrugged.“Dowhatyou’ddoifyoudidn’tliveupstairs.Comeandgo.Askwhatthereistodoandwheretoeat.Don’tmakeyourbed.Leaveyourtowelsonthefloor.Leaveyourespressocupinthegarden.ComplainabouttheWi-Fi.Youknow,touriststuff.”
Hegrinned.“Youknow,IusedtobeaverydemandingguestwhenIstayedatTheFielding.Ioncesentbackmybreakfasteggsforbeingovercooked.”
Igrinnedback.“ThatwasbecauseBerniewasinthekitchen.Hehadathingaboutraweggsandwasconstantlyignoringsunny-sideup.Hewasafraidtherawyolkwouldkillsomebody.Itwasabitofaproblemforawhile.”
Hechuckled.“Thatwasmyorder!Sunny-sideup!”
“AndMariannecompedyourbreakfastandthrewinafreedrink.”
“Yes.”Henarrowedhiseyes.“Thestafftherewasverywelltrained.”
Ishrugged.“Exceptinthekitchen.Theywereallprimadonnasthere.ThankGodStavrosisalittlemorepliable.”
“ThenyoutalkedhimoutofbananasfosterFrenchtoast?”
“Youknewaboutallthat?”
Hemadeaface.“HeaskedmeaboutAmericanbreakfasts.IfIhadknownhewasplanningtousetheinformationfornefariouspurposes,Iwouldhavelied.”
Ilaughed.“Well,Iwon’tholditagainstyou.”Istood.“Icancountonyou?Toplaytourist?”
Hestoodaswell.“Youcancountonmeforanythingyouneed,Lucia.Iamatyourservice.”
Wewerebarelyafootapart,andonceagain,Ifeltlikethereweresparksflyingintheairbetweenus.Iwonderedifhefeltit,too,orifIwasjustreactingtoaveryattractivemanonapurelyphysicallevel,becauseIwantedmorethananythingtotakeonestepcloserandputmyarmsaroundhisneckanddrawhisfacedowntomine…
“Lucia?”hesaid,veryquietly,andleanedslightlytowardme.
Igulped,stumbledback,andclearedmythroat.“Good.Thanks.”
ThenIturnedandpracticallyrandownthestairs.
Mimihadabruiseonhercheek,andCara’slipwasdoubledinsize.ItriednottojumpupscreamingwhenIsawthembothoverFacebookvideo.
“Whathappened?”Iaskedlightly.
Please,Ithought,don’tlettherehavebeenacaraccident.
Andplease,iftherehadbeenone,don’tletitbeJoe’sfault.
Andifitwashisfault,oh,pleasedon’tletitbebecausehewasdrinking.
“Daddyboughtusskateboards,”Carapracticallyshouted.“Andthenhetookustoaskateboardpark.Andweweretakinglessonsandweweregettingreallygood,butthenwebothfell.”
Theywerebothgrinninghappily,andtherelieffeltlikeathunderouswaveslippingfromapeacefulshore.“Skateboards?Really?Aren’tyousupposedtohavepaddingforskateboards?”
Carawasalreadypushingherelbow,scrapedandraw,atthecomputerscreen.“Wehadkneepadsandelbowpads,buttheoneonthisarmslippedwhenIfell.”
Mimiwasnoddingimpatiently.“AndIwasrightbehindher,soIfell,too.Therearen’tanyfacepads.”
Iletoutalongandrelievedlaugh.NowthatIcouldseetheiractualfacesratherthanjustthebruises,Irealizedtheywerebothverypleasedandproudofthemselves.“No,Iguessyou’reright.Nofacepads.Didithurtalot?”
Theywerebothnoddingenthusiastically
“Icried,”Carasaid.
“Me,too,”Mimisaid.“Daddywassoscared,heforgottoyellatus.”
Inodded,myheartgoingouttomybabybrother,tryingtoimaginewhathemusthavefeltwatchingthetwobrightestbitsofhislifetumbledownintoapileofarmsandlegsandcriesofpain.
“Hewantedtotakeustothehospital,buttheteacherattheskateparksaidwewerefine’causeofthehelmets,”Carawenton.“AndshehadBand-Aidsandeverything,andthenwegottoskateagain.”
Iwasgrinningwiththemnow.“Wow.Youmusthavereallylikedit,then.”
Theybothnodded.
“Daddysaidwecangoduringthesummer,”Carasaid.
Isteppedbackintocaution.“Oh?Don’tyougotocampinthesummer?”
Mimishookherheadvigorously.“Notthissummer.Imean,notsleepawaycamplikelastyear.We’rejustgoingtodaycamp.Gramma’sgivingittousforearlybirthday.”
GrammawasVivian,Sara’smother,whoIknewwasnotreallyinthekindoffinancialpositiontoaffordevendaycampfortwo.WhichmeantJoey…
“IsDaddythere?CanItalktohim?”
Ofcoursehewasthere,andthegirlsblewkissesastheyscrambledaway,yellingfortheirdaddy.Heshuffledintoviewandrepositionedthelaptopscreen.
“Hey,sis.What’sup?”Helookedverytired.Andold.Hehadsuchanoldface.Asayoungman,hehadbeenkillerhandsome,withthickdarkhairanddeep,smilingeyes.Now,hishairwasbuzz-cutshortandgray,hiseyeshalf-droopingandsad.Thereweredeeplinesaroundhismouth,drawingdownthesidesofhisfaceinaperpetualfrown.
“Justcheckingin.Thegirlssoundliketheyhadablast.”Ihadlearnedlongagothat,soberornot,Joedidnottakewelltoquestionsorcriticisms,andthosetoughconversationswerebetterwhenstartedwithapositivenote.
Hehalfsmiled.“Theyscaredtheshitouttame.Butthey’retough,man.Theygotrightbackupandwentbackatit.”
“Theygetthatfromyou,”Isaid.Anditwastrue.Joewasanalcoholic,andfortherestofhislife,hewouldteeteronthebrinkofanotherperilousdecision.Buthewasfearlessinhischoices,thegoodandthebad,andhadbeenhisentirelife.
“Yeah,Iguessyou’rerightthere.Igotplentyoffaults,butI’vealsogotplentyofguts.Howareyoudoingoverthere?MomandDaddon’tsaymuch.”
“I’mgood.Workinghard.It’snotwhatI’dexpected,butIthinkit’sgoingtoallworkout.”Ispokecarefully.“ThegirlssaythatVivianispayingforcamp?”
Henodded,rubbinghishandacrosshischeek.“Yeah.Ididn’task,butIhavetoreplacethetransmissiononthecar,andshejustkindaoffered.”
“Thatwasgoodofher.”
Heshrugged.“Shefeelsguilty.Shewasn’tmuchhelparoundherewhenSarawasdying.”
Itookanotherslowbreath.“Itwasherdaughter,Joey.Herdaughterwasdying.”
“Yeah.”Hestareddownforalongminute.“Listen,Igottago.”
“Okay.Nextweek,then,okay?”
Hereachedtohitabuttononthekeyboard,andthescreenwentblank.
Raoulcheckedinfirst,ascruffyduffelbagoveroneshoulder,holdingthehandofaveryprettygirlwholookedmuchyoungerthanhe.Shegazedaroundthelobbyinwonder,pointingexcitedlyatthechandelier,themarblefloors,theelegantchairsclusteredbythewindow.Raoulpuffedupabit,andIcouldn’tblamehim.Afterall,alargepartofthehotel’ssuccessdependedonthephysicalconditionofthepropertyitself,andhewasresponsibleformostofthat.
Istoodattheendofthemahoganycounter,watchingMarieClaude.Wehadasetwelcomespeechthatshehadpracticed,andasRaoulapproached,shegavehimadazzlingsmile.
“WelcometoHotelParadis.Doyouhaveareservation?”
Hewinkedathisgirlfriend.“Yes.Asamatteroffact,Ido.AndIrequestedaking-sizebed?”
Thetruthwas,antiquebedswerenotbuiltforking-sizemattresses,butIhadconvincedClaudinethatweneededtoimprovise,andsowe’dfoundafewsetsoftwin-sizeheadboardsandfootboardsandhadColinboltthemtogether.
MarieClaudenodded.“Certainly.”Sheshuffledthroughthereservations,eachprintedonaseparatesheetofHotelParadisstationery.ShehandedRaoulhisreservation.
“Pleasemakesurethisinformationiscorrect,andmayIhaveyourcreditcard?”
Hisfacefell,andhelookedpastheratme.Iheldupahand.
“Weneedthepractice,Raoul.That’sall.Wewon’tchargeyou,Ipromise.”
Helookedrelieved,dugintohiswallet,andhandedMarieClaudethecard.Shesmiled,swipedit,andhandeditback.
“Pleasesignrighthere,”shesaid,pointed,andhandedhimtheplastickeycard.
“Wedon’thavein-housetelephones,”shebegan,anddoveintoherpreparedspeech.“So,ifyouwouldenterthisphonenumberintoyourcellphoneandputusonspeeddial,youwillbeabletoreachamemberofourstaffatanytime.”
Raoulnodded.“Thatwasagoodidea,”hesaid.“Muchbetterthantryingtorunphonewirethroughthisplace.”
MarieClaude,undeterredbytheinterruption,plowedonbravely.“Oursalonisopenforyourrelaxationtwenty-fourhoursaday.Youmayfeelfreetobringyourownwineoutontoourpatiointheevenings.”
Raouldrewbackinmockhorror.“What?Drinkwithaghost?Idon’tthinkso.”
MarieClaudedidn’tflinch.“Breakfastisservedfromsixinthemorninguntileleven.”
Raoullaughed.“Sixinthemorning?Whowantstogetupthatearly?Thisisaholiday,no?Wehavebetterthingstodointheearlymorning.”
“Throughthesalon,wehaveourlibrary,ifyou’dlikesomequiettimeorifyouneedaprivatespacetodosomework,”shecontinued.Wehaddecidedthatlibrarywasamoreresort-friendlywordthanoffice.“Thereisaprinterforyouruseandacopymachine.Youcanalsoaccessourgardenfromthere.”
Raoulputhisarmaroundhisgirlfriendandgaveheraquickkissonthecheek.“Weneedtheprivatespace,butnotforwork.”
MarieClaudeblushed.“Thefrontgateisopenuntilteno’clockeveryevening.Afterthattime,youcanuseyourkeycardtounlockthegate.Itwillautomaticallyclosebehindyou.”
ThatlittlebitofengineeringhadcostClaudineaprettypenny,Iknew.
“IfthereisanythingIcanhelpyouwith,pleasefeelfreetoask,”MarieClaudeconcluded.
“Thankyou,”thegirlsaidquietly.Thenshegiggled,andsheandRaoulturnedandpracticallyranupthestairs.
MarieClaudeturnedtome.“Didyouknowhewasasexmaniac?”sheasked.
Ishookmyheadandtriednottolaugh.“No.Healwaysseemedtobeaveryreservedyoungman.Youdidwell.You’regoingtocomeacrossallsortsofpeople.Keepingastraightfaceisthehardestpart.”
Shegrimaced.“Believeme,Iknow.Workingatthebank?Someverycrazypeoplecameinthere,letmetellyou.Andsomescarypeople.Eventhemanagersdidnotwanttodealwiththem.”
“Well,ifanyonegivesyoueventheslightesthintofascaryvibe,gobackintotheoffice,lockthedoor,andcallme.OrClaudine.Oneofuswillalwaysbehere.Understand?”
Shenoddedandleanedherelbowsonthecounter,restingherchinonhercuppedhands.“IthinkIwilllikedoingthisverymuch.”
Ilookedather.“Youlovethisplace,don’tyou?”
Shenodded.“MymotherknewClaudineandaskedherifIcouldstayhere.Iwasfromthenorth,averysmallvillageoutsideNancy,andIwantedtogotouniversityasfarawayfromhomeaspossible.IcametoRennes,andIstayedhere,anditwaslike…”Shepaused,andhereyesgotcloudy.“Itwassodifferentfromhome.Homewasnotsogoodsometimes.Buthere,Icouldbreathe.”Shegaveherselfalittleshake.“Claudinewasverykind.Everyoneherewelcomedme.”
IthoughtImightaswelltakethedive.“AndyoumetPhilippe.”
Shestraightenedabruptly.“Ihavenotseenhiminfiveyears.Idon’tknowwhattodo,Lucy.Idon’tknowhowIfeelaboutseeinghimagain.EliotisveryupsetthatIwillnotbegoingawaywithhim,butwhatelsecanIdo?Imuststayhereandwork.”Shetookadeepbreath.“Eliotisjealous.WhatshouldIdo?”
Imentallytookastepback.“MarieClaude,Iamtheverylastpersonintheworldyoushouldbeaskingforadviceaboutlove.Oranykindofpersonalrelationship.IusedtothinkIhadgreatinstinctsaboutpeople,butIwasprovenverywrong.Atthispointinmylife,Idon’teventrustmyselfwithNapoléonthere.”Thewhitecat,whohadbeencurledupunderapottedpalm,liftedhisheadatthesoundofhisname,yawned,thentuckedhisheadbackdown.
Theyoungwomansighed.“Ihopetherewillbenodrama.IhaveverymuchlikedmylifewithEliot.Ithasbeencalmandquiet.ItiswhatIwanted.Philippewantedtotraveltheworld,gofromoneplacetothenext.Iwantedahome.Eliothasgivenmethat,andIamverygratefultohim.Butnow,wearefighting.Weneverfoughtbefore.”
Iknewthey’dbeenfighting.Ihearditmoreandmore.ButthelastthingIwantedwastoinvolvemyselfinsomesortoflovetrianglebetweenpeopleIbarelyknew.Itookafurtherstepback.“Surelyyouhaveaclosefriendyoucantalkto?”
Sheshrugged.“Yes.”Shelookedupandsmiledbriefly.“Ofcourse.”
“I’mgoingtobeintheback,”Itoldherandbrushedpastheronthewaytotheoffice,ignoringthelookshegaveme.
Isatdownatmydesk.Shewasayoungwoman,troubled,andsheneededabitofhelp.WhyhadIfeltsotrapped?IlikedMarieClaudeandwouldhavewantedtohelpher,butsomethinghadlockedupinsidemeandpulledaway.Why?
Ihadfeltmyselfrelaxinghere,hadgrowncomfortablewiththepeopleinandaroundtheHotelParadis.IthoughtitmeantthatIwasgrowingsurerofmyself,ofmyabilitytorelatetoandconnectwithpeople.Aftermonthsoffeelingaknotofangerandmistrustatmyownjudgment,IthoughtIwasfinallyseeingawaythrough.
Obviouslynot.
Veracheckedinwithabrightlycoloredtotebagoveronearm,pullingamidsizesuitcase.Iknewshehadcomefromwork,lookingabittired,butsheknewexactlyhowaguestataboutiquehotelshouldbehaveandgaveitherall.
ShelistenedtoMarieClaude’sspeech,noddinginalltherightplaces,anddutifullyenteredthehotelphonenumberintohercell.ThenshelookedpastMarieClaudetome.
“Youmightwanttotakemynumberaswell.Thatway,whenIdocalldown,mynameandroomnumberwillshowuponyourcallerID.ItwillbeanextratouchifyoualreadyknowwhoIam.”
Iraisedaneyebrow.“Greatidea,Vera.Thankyou.MarieClaude,canyoudothat?”
Thegirlnodded.
Veratookherkeycard.“Willtherebesomeonetohelpwithmysuitcase?”sheasked.
MarieClaudeneverblinked.“Iwillbehappytoassistyou.Followmetotheelevator,rightthroughhere.”Shewenttothefrontofthedesk,grabbedthehandle,andwentoff,Veratrailingbehind.
“Istherefreshwaterinmyroom?”Veracalledoverhershoulder.
“Therewillbe,”Ianswered.“We’llbringitupshortly.”IsentaquicktexttoInesinhousekeeping.Boththesisterswereonfortheweekendeventhoughwewouldonlyhaveatotaloffourteenguests,withonlytenroomstobeattendedtoeachday.AsMarieClaudecamedownthestairs,Inesappearedfromthekitchen,carryingasilvertraywithoneofClaudine’scrystalpitchersonitandtwosmallglasses.
MarieClaudegrinned.“IloveVeraverymuch,butIbetshewillbeourmostdemandingguest.”
“No,”saidBing,comingdownthestairsrightbehindher.“Iwillbeyourmostdemanding.”Hewascarryingasmallbagofbeautifullywornblackleatherandaverydistinctivesetofinitialsembossedonthefront.“Iwillwantfreshflowersdaily,acontinuoussupplyoficeformywhiskey,andadailymassagefromaSwedenamedBjorn.”
Ilaughed.“Ithinkyouaremistakingexactlywhatkindofhotelthisreallyis.”
“What?”hesaid,droppinghisbagwithaflourishandwinkingatMarieClaude.“ThisisnotthekindofhotelthatallowsSwedishmassages?”
Mariekeptaprofessionalair,althoughIcouldseehershoulderstremblingwithlaughter.“Yourname,sir?”
“DavidGrahamBingham,artistandillustratorextraordinaire.IbelieveIreservedaroomoverlookingyourfamoushauntedpatio?”
MarieClaudenodded.“Yes,indeedyoudid.Ifyoucouldjustverifytheinformationhereandsignatthebottom.”
“Andwhen,”Bingasked,signingwithaflourish,“canIexpectyourghosttomakeanappearance?”
“Betweenmidnightandthreeinthemorning,”MarieClaudeansweredpromptly.“Unlessotherwiseprovoked.”Shethenwentintoherpreparedwelcomingspeech,takingBing’sphonenumberandenteringitintothehotel’scellphone,notoncecrackingasmile.
Shefinallytookadeepbreath.“Andifthere’sanythingelseyouneed,pleaseletoneofourstaffknow.”
Binggrinnedather,thenswitchedhiseyestome.“Excellentcustomerserviceyouhavehere,Lucia.”
Ibracedforthedig,butinstead,hebowedbriefly.
“Kudostoyou.”Thenhepickedhisbagbackupandheadedtothestairs,whistling.ChapterTwelve
ThefirstofficialguestsofHotelParadiswereacouplefromParis,who,aftercheckingin,informedusthatalthoughtheyhadonlyreservedforthreedays,iftheyhadfoundRennesworthy,theywould,ofcourse,extendtheirstay.MarieClaudedidnotletonthatwehadvacantroomsgoingthroughtothewholeofthenextweek.Instead,shefrownedatthecomputer,madeafewdiscreetnoisesassheclicked,thenassuredthecouplethat,yes,wecouldsqueezetheminifnecessary.
Claudine,whohadbeenlurkinginthelobby,pretendingtobetotallydisinterestedintheprocess,practicallythrewkissesatMarieClaudeafterthecoupleleftthelobby.IgrinnedatClaudine.Ourgirlknewherstuff.
Thenextcheck-inswerethreewomenfromGermany,travelingtogetherbuteachintheirownroom.Theymadeappropriatenoisesofaweanddelight,seemedappreciativeofMarieClaudespeakingGerman,andchatteredhappilyupthestairs,wavingthestreetguidetoRennesintheirflutteringhands.
ThenIgotatextfromJulia.
Onmyway.Yourdriverisdelightful,andthecarhasacertainvintagecharm.Can’twaittoseeyou.
Wait.Georgesdelightful?AndMarcelhad…charm?
Iranoutintothecourtyard.CoulditbethatshehadgottenintothewrongvehicleandwasbeingbroughtfromthetrainstationinarandomUber?
Butno.ItwasindeedMarcelwhofinallyturnedintothecourtyard,pullingupdirectlyinfrontofthedoors.IreacheddowntoopenthedoorforJulia,andshefloatedoutinacloudofpalelinenandChanelNo.5.
Ihuggedherfortoolong,butshehuggedmeback,rubbingherpalmsalongmyshouldersuntilIfinallysteppedback,blinkingawaytears.
“Oh,Julia,itissogoodtoseeyou,”Igushed.
Shesmiled.Julianevergushed.“Likewise.Oh,Lucy,youlookjustmarvelous.Youreallydo.Yourhairissolong,butitsuitsyou.Andyoulookhappy!”SheturnedasGeorgeswentby,carryingaLouisVuittonsuitcaseineachhand,withamakeupbagslungoverhisshoulder.“Oh,Georges,that’ssokindofyou.Thankyousomuch.”Sheleanedcloserashewentthroughthedoor.“Whatalovelyman.Howluckyyouaretohavehim.Isallyourstaffsoaccommodating?”
IstaredafterGeorges,thenleaneddowntopeekinsideMarcel.Thebackseatswerecoveredinwhatlookedlikedarkgreenvelvetseatcovers.Thefloorwasspotless,andtherewasthefaintscentoflavenderinsteadoftheevergreen/cheese/smokecomboofbefore.
Waytogo,Georges.
Istraightened,andJuliaputherarmthroughmine,thenturned,lookingbackatthecobblestonecourtyardandtheblackironarch.
“Thisisjustfabulous.Andthatbuildingthere?Theoldstable?Why,it’spretty,Lucy.Ihalfexpectedpeelingbarnyard-redpaintandrustyhingesonthedoorways.AssoonasI’msettled,youhavetoshowmeyourplace.”
Georgescamebackout,andJuliaheldoutahand,slippingafoldedsomethingintohis.“I’llbesuretoletyouknowwhenIcantakethattour,Georges.Thanksagain.”
InarrowedmyeyesatGeorgesashenoddedandgotintothefrontseat.
“Tour?”IaskedJuliaashedroveaway.
“Yes.AtouroftheOldCity,hesaid.Youknow,churchesandramparts,thosesortsofthings.Itsoundedveryinteresting.”
Shesawtheexpressiononmyfaceandlaughed.“Oh,thisisnotahotel-sponsoredtour?Well,youshouldcomewithme,then.IbetyouhavenoideahowmanychurchesthereevenarehereinRennes.”
Wewentintothehoteltogether.
“You’rerightthere,”Itoldher.“Ihaven’tspentmuchtimesightseeing.AlthoughIdoknowcertainbarsandrestaurantsthatareoutstanding.”
SheleanedagainstthefrontcounterandpulledherreadingglassesoutofherbrightorangeBirkinbag.“Andyes,wearegoingtoParis,sodon’targue.”SheturnedtoMarieClaudewithadazzlingsmile.“What,dear?Ohyes,letmesee.”Shequicklyreadherreservationandsignedatthebottom.MarieClaudegaveherspeech,Julianoddedandmurmured,thentookherkeycard.
“What,nostrappingyoungvalettocarrymysuitcases?”
Ishookmyhead.“No.I’lltakethem.Theliftisrighthere.”
“Lift?Really?My,youarebecominganative.”
Luckily,bothofJulia’ssuitcaseswereonwheels,andtherewasjustenoughroomintheelevatorforthebothofusandtheluggage.Onthesecondfloor,shesteppedout,roundedthecorner,thenstoppedandclappedbothhandstogetherindelight.
“Lucy,lookatthisplace!IwasexpectingsomethingfromthatcastleinFrankenstein.TheoriginalonewithBorisKarloff,allblackandwhitewithshadowsandcobwebs.”
Ilaughed,dragginghersuitcasesdownthebroadcorridor,thesconcesgleamingsoftly,agalleryofportraitshungfromanivory-paintedpicturerail,scatteredconsoletablesandfragile-lookingchairspushedagainstthewalls.Sheopenedherdoorandsteppedin,paused,thenclappedagain.
“Splendid.Justsplendid.Andisthisyourhauntedpatio?”Shecrossedtheroomandthrewopentheglassdoors.“Oh,I’mgoingtosleepwiththesewindowsopeneverynightsoI’llbeabletohearherwhenshecomes.”
Iguidedhersuitcasestothefootoftheelaboratebed.Thisonewasafour-poster,withrosewoodcarvingsandintricatehangings.
“Andthatbed,”shesaidappreciatively.“ToobadDougcouldn’tcome.Thatbedismadeforsomeserioussex.”
Ilaughed.“Maybehecanjustflyoverfortheweekend,”Ijoked.
Sheshookherhead.“No.Thisweekend,we’regoingtoParis.”
Ishookmyhead.“Ican’tgotoParis,”Itoldher.
Sheraisedaneyebrow.“Andwhynot?”
“Thisisopeningweek.”
“So?Ithoughtyouhadstaff.”
“Ido.”
“Andaretheywelltrained?”
“Yes,ofcoursetheyare.But—”
“Andaren’tyousupposedtoonlyworksomanyhoursaweek?Istillcan’tunderstandthisentireworkcontractthingtheyhaveoverhere,eventhoughyoudidexplainittomemanytimes,butIassumeyourowncontractallowsyoutimeoff.AmIright?”
Yes,shewas.Mycontractrequiredmetoworkthirty-sevenandahalfhourseveryweek,althoughIhadprettymuchworked24–7sincearriving.
Ithought.“Paris?”
Sheopenedasuitcaseandbeganshakingoutclothes,alreadyonhangers,allverychicandexpensive.“IactuallygotusanAirbnbinLeMarais.Justalittletwo-bedroomplace,butit’sclosetoametrostop,sowecangowhereverwewant.ForFridayandSaturday,becausethingsareclosedhereonSundays.Whatdoyouthink?”
Ourdryrunoflastweekwentwithoutahitch.Ithadbeenusefulforfindingoverlookeddetails,andtherewerenomajormishaps.Ihadallweektowatchandseewhatwashappening,andIwasn’tscheduledfortheweekend,anyway…
“I’lltellClaudine,”Isaid.
“Good.Now,letmeunpack.AndIneedaquickbath.Thenyoucanshowmearoundandintroducemetoeveryone.IfeellikeIknowthemalready.”Shegavemealook.“EspeciallyBing.”
Isoothedoutatinybumpinthetoilequilt.“Binghasabunchofmeetingsthisweek.Hehasanotherbookcomingout.”
“I’msurehewouldlovetojoinusforaglassofwine.Ordinner?”
“Maybe.”
Shelookedatmeshrewdly.“What?”
“Nothing.”Ishookmyhead.
IhadworkedwithBingdailyformonths,painting,cleaning,arrangingfurniture.Wetalkedabouteverythingduringthosetimes.Orwetalkedaboutnothing,justlistenedtowhateverselectionofmusichehadonhisphone.Wehadbecome,Ithought,friends.TheattractionIhadfirstfelthadfadedtoaneasyfamiliarity,althoughIfeltadefinitetugofsomethingstrongeratoddtimes.ButonceIhadstoppedseeinghimeveryday,Ifoundmyselflookingforhim,andthattugwasstrongerthanever.
But—sowhat?Hehadbeenkindandattentive,butthatwasall.Iftherewereanytugsgoingonwithhim,hecertainlydidn’tletitshow.AndIstillhadastrongdistrustofmyownjudgmentandwasconvincedthat,atanymoment,hewouldbeexposedasanotoriousserialkiller.
Istood.“Really.Nothing.Comedownwheneveryou’reready.I’llgiveyouthegrandtour.”
Inthefirstthreedaysofhervisit,JuliamanagedtocharmeverylivingcreatureattheHotelParadis:staff,residents,guests,andNapoléon.
Sherememberedeveryone’snameandwasverycarefultoaskifshewaspronouncingitcorrectly.ThatwasatrickIhadlearnedafteryearsofobservinggoodversusbadcustomerservice.Forher,itwasjustaninnateabilitytofindinterestandworthineveryonesheencountered.
ShetookGeorges’stourofRennesand,uponreturning,convincedthreeotherguestswhohappenedtobelounginginthesalontotakeitaswell.
Inescutopenherfingerduringbreakfast,whileslicingamelon,andJulianotonlystaunchedtheflowofbloodwithalinennapkin,butshealsofinishedpreparingthefruitsaladandadvisedIneshowtogetoutthebloodstains.
ShepreventedKarlfromdoingbodilyharmtoaguestwhobeganpickingunripeeggplantfromthegarden.Karl,seeingastrangerpillaginghiscarefullytendedcrop,blustereduptotheguest,armswaving.Julia,whohappenedtobesittinginthesunchattingwithoneoftheGermanguests,intervened.ShesuccessfullycalmeddownKarlandsolicitedasincereapologyfromtheguest.ShethenofferedKarlafewsuggestionsonwhattodowithunripeeggplant,aswellastakinghimintothelibrary,wheretheyprintedoutseveralsignsthatreadPleasedonotpickthevegetablesinfourdifferentlanguages.
ShecamebackfromoneofherjauntsintotheOldCitywithfoursmallpotsoflivecatnipand,withKarl’spermission,discreetlytuckedthemintoafewofthelargeurnsthatstoodinfrontofthehotel.Idon’tknowhowNapoléonknewitwasshe,buthespenteverymomentnotrubbingagainstthecatnipfollowingheraround,wrappinghimselfaroundherankles,andpurringloudly.
Bing,aftersittingwithusonthepatiooverwineand,ofcourse,cheese,watchedherleavetogobacktoherroomwithawrysmile.
“Youareveryluckytohaveafriendlikeher,”hemuttered.
“Iknow.Isn’tshejustthebest?”
Heraisedaneyebrow.“Herhusband?”
“Doug?He’saveryniceman.He’stheownerofacybersecurityfirm.Verysuccessful.Heworksprettymucharoundtheclockmostoftheyear,thentakesoffawholemonthtotakeheranywhereshewantstogo.Thisyear,Ibelievehe’srentingayachtinTahiti.”
Helaughed.“Theymusthaveaveryhappymarriage,then.”
“Yes,”Iagreed.“Theydo.Theyhavetwosons,bothgrown,bothabitofaproblem,buttheyareaverydevotedcouple.”
Hefinishedhiswine.“I’vefoundthatabitofdistancemakesforamuchhappierrelationship.”
“Really?”
Henodded.“Thesepeoplewhoworktogether,thengohometogether…Howdoesoneappreciatethetrulygoldenmomentsifyouspendallyourmomentstogether?”
“YouandClaudineseemtogetalongjustfine,”Isaid.
Heshrugged.“Thatisdifferent.We’renotinloveanymore.Weshareason;thatisaconnectionthatwillstaystrongforever.Butthat’snotthekindofrelationshipI’mtalkingabout.”Heshiftedhisbodyuntilhewasfacingme.“I’mtalkingabouttwopeoplewhoaretogetherorfindingtheirwaytowardtogether.There’satensionthatyoufeelwhenyou’renotaroundeachother.Andthen,whenyouaretogether,there’sabitofarush,anexhilaration.Asurpriseofjoy.Andeventhoughthetimeineachother’scompanymaybeperfect,it’sthewaitingthatisreallytelling.Thewanting.”
Itwasgettingdark,andIcouldbarelyseehisfaceinthefaintlightcomingfrominsidethehotel.ButIcouldfeelhim,scantinchesaway,andasIsetmywineglassdown,mybodymovedforward,towardhim,sothatourkneesweretouchingandmyarmbrushedagainsthis,andtalkaboutwanting…
“Ineverthoughtofitthatway,”Isaidsoftly,proudofmyselfforkeepingmyvoicesteadyeventhoughmyheartwasracing.“TonyandIwereoneofthosecoupleswhowereattachedatthehip.Foryears.Ithoughtthatwassafety.Ithoughtthatwascommitment.AndIwasfinewithit,eventhoughitwasallprovedfalse.Butyou’reright.Therewerenosurprises.No…joy.”
Hereachedoutverygentlyandstrokedmycheek.“I’msosorry.Youdeservejoy.”
IfIturnedmyheadjustafraction,hisfingerswouldbeinmyhair.IfImovedintheotherdirection,mylipswouldhavegrazedthepalmofhishand.Icouldhearwordsinmyhead…Doit…Doit…Kisshispalm,thenturnhishandoverandgentlybiteeachlongandgracefulfinger,pushbacktheroughlinenofhisshirttotastethesweetskinofhisstrongwrists…
Thenear-emptyplateofcheeseclatteredsuddenlytotheground,soundingloudandharshasithittheslate.Webothjumpedbackfromeachother.
Ibentandpickeduptheplate,unbroken.“Goodnight,”Imumbled,hurryingbackintothehotel.
Inthekitchen,IplacedtheplateinthedishwasherandstaredouttothesalonasBingwalkedpast.
Damnghost,Ithought.Ofallthetimestomakeanappearance,whythen?
Claudinedidn’tevenblinkwhenItoldherIwasgoingtoParis.“Youmustgo.You’veworkedlikeadogformonthswithjustanoccasionalafternoonoff.Wearerunningsmoothly.Go.Enjoy.”Shebusiedherselfwithsomepaperworkonherdeskbeforeadding,“BingsaidhewantedtogotoParis.Askhimtogowithyou.Hecanhelpwiththetrains.”
AndsoitwasthatthethreeofustookthefirstfasttraintoParis,comingintoGareduNordjustasthecitywaswakingup.BingtookusintoLeMaraisonthemetroandwalkedustotheAirbnbthatJuliahadbooked.Shehadplannedforustoleaveourluggagethere,sowewanderedthenarrowstreets,Bingactingasguide.WetookthetrolleyuptoSacré-Coeur,andthere,spreadbelowus,wasthewholeofParis.
“Oh,”Isaidsoftly.“My.”
Julialoopedherarmthroughmine.“Iknow.”
“It’sglorious,”Ibreathed.
“Yes,”Bingsaid,smiling.“Waituntilyoumeethercloseup.”
“Weonlyhavetwodays,”Juliasaid.“We’regoingtoavoidalltheobvioustouristspots.”ShehadbeenhereseveraltimesbeforewithDoug.“WehavetoseeShakespeareandCompany,ofcourse,andtheVictorHugoMuseum.AndweshouldtakeoneoftheboatsdowntheSeine.”
Binglaughed.“Isn’tthatanobvioustouristthing?”
“Yes.Butit’salsounforgettable.”Shelookedathim.Shehadbeenverycarefulaboutcurbingherinterestallweek,butshehaddecideditwastimetogetcurious.“Andwhatwillyoubedoing?Anassignationwithanambassador’swife?BurrowingintothearchivesattheLouvre?Buyingawinesorareastobepriceless?”
Hestaredatherforamoment,thenthrewbackhishead,laughterechoingoutacrossopenair.“Julia,I’mnotaninternationalspy.I’manartist.AndIwritechildren’sbooks.I’mmeetingwithsomeoneaboutagalleryopening.”
Shesighed.“Oh.Howdisappointing.”Shelookedoverathimagain.“Willyoubeabletojoinusforanylate-nightdinners?”
Heshookhishead.“Afraidnot.AndIhavetogetbacktoRennesinthemorningforaconferencecall.”
Ifeltasmallbiteofdisappointment.Ofcourse,beingwithmybestfriendinoneofthemostbeautifulcitiesintheworldwasnothingshortofmarvelous,butIhadbeenhoping…
BingsaidgoodbyeatShakespeareandCompany,whichwasfine,becauseonceIwalkedthroughitsdoors,Iwascompletelyunawareofanythingbuttherowsandshelvesofbooksbeforeme.Therewerefewthingsthatevokedmemoriesformemorethanscent.TomatoandgarlicbroughtbackSundaydinnersinmymother’skitchen.Coffeetookmetomyfirstjobinahotel,waitingtablesforthebreakfastcrowdatthelocalHolidayInn.OnewhiffofexhaustandItumbledbacktoManhattan,racingacrossFifthAvenue,dodgingtaxicabsandbuses.Andthesmellofoldbooks?Mywork-studyjobinthelibraryatRutgersUniversity,theonlynon-hotel-relatedworkI’deverdone,goingbackintothestacksforoddreferencebooksandjournals.I’dlovedthatjob:thequiet,thesenseofcalm,thefeelingthatsomanyoflife’squestionscouldbeansweredjustbyopeningabook.
“Remember,”Juliamurmuredafterfindingmehunchedinacorner,asmallstackatmyfeet,“youhavetocarryallofthemacrossParis.”
IendedupwithacopyofTheWindintheWillows,inFrench,andaslimvolumeofLeavesofGrass.Wewalkedalongtheriver,lookingatthebookstallsandartists,justtalking
“Youseemsomuchmorerelaxed,”Juliasaidatlast.“AndIthinkyou’rehappy.”
Inodded.Wehadfinallysettledatacafé,wineinsmallglassesbeforeus.“Ifeelanincrediblesenseofrelief,”Isaidslowly.“Ireallydidn’tknowifIcouldpullthisoff.”
Shetut-tutted.“Lucy,youhavealwaysbeenoneofthebestatwhatyoudid.Yougavespeechesatconferences.Yougotawards.Ineverunderstoodhowfallinginlovewiththewrongmanhadanythingtodowithyourabilitytodothework.”
“Fallinginlovewiththewrongmanchangedeverything,”Itoldher.“HowIsawmyself.WhatIvaluedaboutmyself.Iknownow,lookingback,thatIshouldnothaveletwhathappenedwithTonyoverwhelmeverythingelseinmylife,butwhenitwashappening…”Itrailedoff.“ButIthinkIamgettingbetter.Imean,thathotelisprettydamnspecial,isn’tit?”
Shegrinned.“Yes,itis.So,whataboutBing?”
Isatback.“What?”
“Bing.Thatperfectlyattractiveandcharmingmanwhowouldprobablyfallatyourfeetifyougavehimeventheslightestbitofencouragement.”
“Firstofall,”Isaid,gettingmythoughtstogether,“he’snotexactlythetypetofallatanyone’sfeet.Andyoumakeitsoundlikehe’sthesortIcouldn’thelpbutfallfor.Believeme,he’snotsoperfect.”Ifeltmyselfwarminguptomyargument.“HetendstoquestioneverysinglethingIdobecausehethinksheknowsbetter,andyouknowhowIjustlovepeoplewhodon’tthinkIknowwhatI’mdoing.Andwhenhe’snothoveringaround,waitingtocriticize,he’swrappedupinhisownwork,andIdon’texchangeawordwithhimfordays.AndIjust—”Istareddownatmywine.“Havingthehotelbeasuccesshaspatchedupahugeholeinmypsyche.Butitdidn’tdoanythingaboutrestoringmywillingnesstoletpeoplegettooclose.”
Sherolledhereyes.“I’vebeenherelongenoughtoseehoweveryoneinvolvedinthehotelthinksyou’rethenext-bestthingtoslicedbread.Thesepeople,allofthem,likeyou,Luce.AndI’veseenyouwiththem.Theseareyourfriends.Oratleast,theycouldbe.”Shetiltedherhead.“Youwerenevergoodatthat,wereyou?Imean,incollege,youwerealwaysinagroupofpeople,butI’mtheonlyonewholasted.Why,doyouthink?”
Ithrewherasmile.“Afteryoubecamemyfriend,whywouldIneedanymore?”ThenIsobered.“You’reright,though.Itwasalwayshardformetoletpeopleintomylife.Iwasalwaysonguardagainstmyfamily.Ithinkthatwaspartofit.IfIcouldn’ttrustthemtobeonmyside,well,whatcouldIexpectfromstrangers?”
“AndBing?”
Imadeaface.“Ithinkhemaybetryingtoworkhiswayin.”
“Andyoudon’twanthim?Well.”Shewavedahand.“Ifnothingelse,Ibethe’dbegoodinthesack.”
Luckily,I’dswallowedmywine,orIwouldhaveprobablychokedonit.“Jules.”
“What?Likeithasn’tcrossedyourmind?”
Yes,ithad.EverytimeIfelttheheatofhisbodyashepassed,sawthemusclesinhisforearmsflex,caughtthetwistofhismouthinasmile.Justlastnight,ashewavedandthelongcurveofhisbackturnedawayfromme,Ifeltmyinsidesturntojelly.“YouknowIwasneverlikethat,”Imumbled.“Evenincollege.”
Shemadeaface.“True.Iwastheonewhowasintomindlesssex.Youalwaysheldoutforfeelings.”Shelookedaround.“Shouldwejustgetsomesupperhere?Orheadbackandgetsomethingclosertotheapartment?”
Ilookedatmyemptywineglass.“Let’sgo.Wecanwalk,andmaybesomethingmarvelouswilljustpopintoview.”
Andsomethingdid,andwegrabbedthelasttableonthesidewalkofaquietcafé.Ihadsoleindelicatewinesauceandfreshpeasandbabypotatoesthatmeltedinmymouth.IhadfinallystoppedbeingamazedathowwonderfulthefoodwasinFrance,butthiswasextraordinary.Thenwewentbackuptotheflatanddrankmorewineandtalkedandremembered.
Thenextday,wesawtheMuséed’Orsay,andIspentalmostanhourgazingattheRenoirs,andI’dgiveupanhoureverydayofmylifetodoitagain.WetookaleisurelyboatridedowntheSeineunderastripedcanopy,sippingwine.Iwasaperfecttourist,thrilledtoseeeveryfamiliarlandmark.
“Ilovetheoldnesshere.”Isighed.“NewYorkisbeautiful,butit’sallsonew.Therearenoghosts.”
“Iagree,”shesaid,leaningherheadback.“Icouldeasilylivehere.”
Ilookedather.“Really?BecauseIwouldgiveyouajobinaheartbeat.Youhavemanagedtocharmtheentirestaff,nottomentioneveryguestyou’vecomeacrossatthehotel.You’reanatural.”
Shelaughed.“Yes,butifIwerepaidtobecharming,Iwouldn’tlastaweek.”
Ireachedoverandgrabbedherhand,givingitagentletug.“I’msogladyou’rehere.AndI’msohappyIsawPariswithyou.”
Shewasusuallynotthesentimentaltype,butIsawrealtearsinhereyes.“You’reoneofthebestpeopleIknow,Lucy.Iwoulddoanythingforyou.Youknowthat.Andbeingherethisweekhasbeenarealgift.”
Wegotofftheboatandwalkedsomemore,thenwentbacktoLeMarais,gotourluggage,andtookthetrainbacktoRennes.Georgeswaswaitingforus,andwegotbackquitelate.Thehotelwasdark,andwewerebothtired.Shewentuptoherroom,andIslippedgratefullyintobed.Thenextmorning,Georgeswastheretotakeherandallherluggagetothetrainstation,whereshewouldgobacktoParisandtheairportandthenontoNewYork,andasIgaveheronelasthug,Ifeltasthoughabitofbedrockthathadbeenshoringmeupallduringtheweekhadslipped,justalittle.
MarieClaudecametostandbesideme.“Oneday,”shesaidsoftly,“whenIamold,IhopeIhaveafriendlikethat,whoremembersmeasIwas,notjustasIam.”Hervoiceshookjustabit,andsheseemedsuddenlyveryyoungandfragile.
“Youhaveplentyoffriends,MarieClaude,”Itoldher.
Sheshrugged.“Itisonethingtohaveafriendwhoyoucangooutwithandlaughwithanddrinkwith.I’mtalkingaboutthekindoffriendwhoknowsyoursecretsbutlovesyouanyway.”
Ilookeddownather.“Youhavesecrets,MarieClaude?”
Sheshrugged.“Weallhavesecrets,Lucy.Andifwe’relucky,wecansharethem.Sharingeasestheburden.”Shelookedatme,thecornersofhermouthdrooping.“EliotandIarenotgettingalongverywellrightnow.”
Inodded.“Yes.Iknow.Weallknow.”
Shesighed.“HeisworriedaboutPhilippe.”
“Youmarriedhim.”
Hershouldersmadeasmallmovement.“ButhowdoIknowwhattodoorsaytoreassurehimifIdon’tknowmyselfhowIwillfeelwhenIseePhilippeagain?Whatwehad…itwasunlikeanythingIhadeverfeltbefore.Orsince.”
Ontheonehand,myheartwentouttoher.Shewasobviouslyhurtingandinneedofashouldertocryonandmaybesomegentlewordsofwisdom.ButIwasnotthepersonforhertoseekout.“MarieClaude,Iamthelastpersonintheworldtogiveadvice.Idivorcedmyhusbandbecausehefinallytoldmehewantedarealhome.Ithoughtmycareerwasmoreimportant.Foryears,Idriftedfromoneplacetoanother,oneshort-termrelationshiptoanotherbecauseIdidn’twanttoputinthetimeortheenergyforanythinglongterm.AndwhenIfinallydiddecidethatIwasreadyandthoughtIhadfoundtheperfectperson,itallturnedouttobealie.”Isighed.“AllthethingsthatyousayyouwantinyourlifearethingsInevercaredabout.”
Sheshrugged.“EliotisleavingforLyonasplanned.Hedoesnotevenwanttohearaboutmaybegoinglater.HedoesnotwantmetobeherewhenPhilippearrives,butherefusestochangehisplans.Hejustwantsmetochangemine.”
“Eliothasalwaysstruckmeasbeingverysetinhisways.”
“Yes.Butyouwouldthinkthatiftherewereagoodenoughreason,he’dbewillingtobend.Justalittle.”
Iscrambledforsomething,anythingtosoundreassuring.“Surelyhetrustsyou?”
“Yes,”shesaidfaintly,thengaveanothershrugandwalkedbackintotheoffice.
“We’relearningarchery,”Caracrowed.“LikeRobinHood.”
“Atcamp?Wow,that’sexciting,huh?”
Mimiwasnoddingherheadvigorously.“Yes.Andtoswim.Thiscampiswaycooler.”
“Ithoughtyoulikedsleepingaway?”Iaskedthem.
Cararolledhereyes.“Therewerebugs,”shesaid.“Everywhere.”
“That’sbecauseyouwereinthewoodsinsteadofthecity,”Iexplained.
Shelookedatmesteadilyacrossthousandsofmiles.“Therewerebugs,andtheyweredisgusting.”
“Ah.”
“And,”shecontinued,“we’reswimminginapoolandnotalake,soit’snotevendirty.”
Iwouldhavearguedthatpointwithanadult,knowingalittlebitaboutthecleanlinessofmunicipalpools,butchosetostaysilent.“Butnoboats.”
Mimisighed.“Noboats.Butlotsofartsandcrafts,andwecanbringourskateboardsnextWednesday,andtheywilltakeustotheskatepark.”
“Thatwillbefun.”
Cararolledhereyesagain.“It’sgonnabeallboysandthenus.”
“Don’tlikeboysmuch?”Iteased,justabit.
Caralookedatmewithsomethingakintopity.“What,exactly,istheretolike?They’restupid.”
Touché.“Yes.Theyare.ArePopPop’stomatoesripeyet?”Myfather’sgardenfaithfullyproduceddeliciousbeefsteaks,andthefavoredsandwichofsummerwasslicedtomatoonwhitebreadwithmayonnaise.
“Notyet,”Caratoldme.“Hesaideightdays.”Hisuncannyabilitytoaccuratelypredicttheripenessofhiscropswassomethingofamarvel.
“Imissthosetomatoes,”Itoldthem.“EverythinginFranceisreallydelicious,butnothingbeatsPopPop’stomatoes.”
“Wecouldmailyousome,”Mimioffered.
“Idon’tthinkso,butthanksfortheoffer.Whendoyougobacktoschool?”
“Threeweeks,”Carasaid.“Nextweekisourlastweekatcamp,andthenwe’restayingwithNanaandPopPop,thenschool.”
“Areyouexcited?”
Theybothshrugged.“It’sschool,”Carasaid.
“Iloveyoutwo.”
Theybeamed.“Weloveyou,”theysaid,together.
Thescreenwentblank.“Loveyoumore,”Iwhispered.ChapterThirteen
MarieClaudeandIweregoingoverthenextweek’sreservations,assigningrooms,whenIheardthefrontdooropen.Ipaused,waitingtohearaguestcallout.Silence.Good.
InoddedtoMarieClaude.“Okay,arewegood,then?ThisSwedishcoupleaskedforabalconyandagardenviewandthegroundfloor.Howdotheyexpectabalconyonthegroundfloor?”
Sheflashedasmile.“Ithoughtbankpatronswerecrazy,buttheyhadnothingontheseguests.Theywantthemoonandthesun.”
“Yes,well,welcometothehospitalityindustry,”Isaid.
“Hello?”avoicecalled.
“I’llgo—”Istopped.
MarieClaudeturnedwhiteasasheetandrockedbackinherchair.
“Areyouokay?”Iasked,concerned.
Sheputonehandoverhermouthand,withtheother,gesturedmeoutoftheoffice.
Ihurriedtothedoor,glancedbackather,andwenttothefrontdesk.
Therewasayoungmanstandingthere,tallandimpossiblyhandsome.Hisfacewasallsharpangles,andhisdarkhairwassweptoffhisforeheadinawaythatseemedfamiliar.HewasdressedinjeansandaT-shirt,hisbodyslimandwiry.Hehadabulgingbackpackoveroneshoulder,andthereweretwosuitcasesonthefloorbesidehim.
“Hello,”Isaid,mymindracing.Wedidn’thaveanyarrivalsbookedfortodayandonlyoneroomavailableforpartoftheweek.“Areyoulookingforaroom?”
Hegrinned.HisEnglishwasperfect,withoutatraceofanaccent.“YoumustbeLucy.”Hestretchedhishandoverthecounter.“I’mPhilippe.”
Ofcoursehewas.AsItookhishand,IsawBingashemusthavelookedthirtyyearsago,youngandreckless,readytotakeontheworld.
“Dotheyknowyou’rehere?”Iasked.“Claudinedidn’tsayanything.”
Hedroppedhishandandshookhishead.“Iwantedtosurprisethem.Unlessthey’rebothofftoLondon.Thenthesurprisewouldbeonme.”
“No,”Isaid,grinning.“Yourfatherisinhisstudio.Claudineisinthegarden,Ibelieve.Karlisharvestingzucchiniatanalarmingrate.”
Hewaggledafingeratme.“YourAmericanisshowing,”hesaidwithalaugh.“Notzucchini.Courgette.”
“Yes.”Inodded.“Courgette.Bythebushel.”
Heclappedhishands.“Excellent.Thatmeansratatouille.Notfrommymother’skitchen,ofcourse.Unlesshercookinghasimproved?”
Ishookmyhead,laughingnow.“Sadly,no.”Hemadeaface,andIthinkIfelljustalittleinlovewiththischarming,charismaticman.
Hepickeduphissuitcases.“I’llputtheseawayandgoandfindher.Youwon’tgivemeaway,willyou?”
Iputmyhandovermyheart.“Never.”
Iwatchedashemadehiswayacrossthelobby,disappearingintothecorridorbehindthestaircase.
Iletoutaslowbreathandwalkedbackintotheoffice.MarieClaudesatverystill,thecolorstilldrainedfromhercheeks.Shelookedupatmeinthedoorway.
“Whereishe?”
“He’sputtingawayhisluggage.Thenhe’sgoingintothegardentofindClaudine.”
Shestoodupabruptly.“Arewedone?”
Technically,thiswashershiftuntilseventhatevening,butInodded.“We’regood.You’regoing?”
“Yes.Hecan’tseeme.”
“MarieClaude,”Isaidgently,“howcanyoupossiblyimaginethathe’snotgoingtoseeyou?He’sgoingtobehereforwhat,threeweeks?Youmustwork.Youcan’tspendthewholetimebehindthedoorofyourappart.”
Shewrungherhands.“Ididn’tthinkIwould…Imean,Ithought…”Shestaredatme,hereyeswide.“WhatshouldIdo?”
“Gooutandsayhellotohim.Now.Goouttothelobbyandwaitforhimandgreethimasthoughhewerejustanotherguest.”
“Buthe’snot,”shewhispered.“Lookatme.IfeellikeIcan’tevenbreathe,andthat’sjustafterhearinghisvoice.”Shegulped.“WhataboutEliot?Hecan’tseemelikethis.Hewillbecrazy.Heisalreadysojealousandangry.”
“MarieClaude,”IsaidasIwalkedovertoher.“Itoldyou.Don’taskmeforadvicehere.Iamthelastonetotellyouwhattodoaboutlove.I’mafailureatrelationships.”
“Butwhoelseisthere?Ican’ttalktoClaudine.Thisisherson.”Shecoveredherfacewithherhands.“EveryoneIknow,theyweregladheleft.Theyalltoldmewewouldhavebeensounhappy.Noonewillunderstandwhatjusthappenednow.”
Icrouchedinfrontofher.“Whatdoyoumean?Whatjusthappened?”
Hereyesfilledwithtears.“IheardhisvoiceandIwantedtoruntohim.TothrowmyarmsaroundhimandtellhimhowmuchImissedhim.HowmuchIlovehim.”
“MarieClaude,”Isaid,shocked.“What?”
“Ican’thelpit,Lucy.Iamoverwhelmed.Thefeelingjustcameovermelike…like…aburstofwind.Icouldn’tstopitifItried.”
IsatacrossfromherasIwatchedher.Tearswerestreamingdownherface.“WhatshouldIdo?”shewhisperedagain
Myheartlurched.“Oh,honey,I’msosorry.ButIhavenoideawhatyoushoulddo.”
Andthatwasthetruth.I’doften,inthepasttwoyears,wonderedhowIwouldfeelifIsuddenlysawTonyagain.Ihadlovedhimsofiercely.WouldIbeabletoforgethowmuchhe’dhurtme?TheanguishhehadcausedmeandthemanypeopleIfeltresponsiblefor?OrwouldthemeresoundofhisvoicesendmerightbacktoaplaceMarieClaudenowoccupied,atthemercyofanungovernableheart?
Igrabbedbothherhandsandsqueezed.“Lookatme,”Isaidquietly.
Shetookadeepbreathandlookedintomyeyes.
“Now.You’regoingtobreatheinveryslowly.”
Shenoddedandtookalong,shakybreath.
“Again,”Isaid.
Shedid.
“Now,youaregoingtotellmethreeamazingthingsaboutEliot.”
Shestared.
Hmm.ThiswasnotgoingaswellasI’dhoped.“Okay…tellmethreereasonsyoumarriedhim.”
Shenodded.“Hehadagoodjob.Hisfamilywasn’taroundtobotherus.AndhelikedlivinginRennes.”
Wow.Thiswasnotgoingwellatall.“Now,tellmethreethingshedoesthatmakeyouhappy.”
Shechewedherlip.“Ah,um.”Shescrunchedupherforehead,thinkinghard.“Heisagoodcook.”
Iwasn’tgoingtogiveupjustyet.“Goon.”
Herfacecrumpled.“Philippemademelaugh.Hebelievedinallmydreams.Hewoulddancewithmeinthemiddleoftheroom,singingtome.Hewouldputafloweronmybedinthemiddleoftheday.He—”
“MarieClaude,stop.”Isqueezedherhands.“YouchoseEliot.He’syourhusbandnow.”
Shejerkedherhandsaway.“AndIhavejustbeenremindedofwhatastupidchoiceImade.”Shelurchedoutofherchairandran.Idroppedmyheadandheardthefrontdoorslamshut.
I’dtoldherIwasn’tanygoodatthis.
IknewthatMarieClaudewasscheduledthenextmorning.Iwokeearly,putteredarounduntiladecenthour,thenmademywayovertothehotel,pretendingthatIwasjustdoinganormalwalk-throughratherthansatisfyinganintensecuriositytoseethetwoofthemtogether.
Claudineusuallysatinthesalonfromeight-ishuntilthelastoftheguestshadfinishedtheirbreakfast.Shechattedtothosewhomotionedherover,clearedemptytablesoftheirwhitecupsandsaucers,madesuretherewereenoughcroissants.Thismorning,however,shewassittingapartfromtheguests,Philippeacrossfromher,Bingloungingathisson’sside.TheywerealllaughingtogetheratsomethingPhilippewassaying.SeeinghimwithBing,Isawhowmuchaliketheywere,notonlyinlooksbutinmannerismsaswell.Philippehadthesamewayofleaninginwhenexplainingsomething;hehadthesametiltofthehead,flashofsmile.IgotmyselfacupofespressoandwasstandingwithoneofourAmericanguests,whenMarieClaudesuddenlyappearedinthedoorway.Lookingwhitebutdetermined.Icouldseeherswallowhardandsquarehershouldersassheapproachedthethreeofthematthefarendoftheroom.
“Claudine,”shesaid,somewhatloudly.“Ijustheardfromthecouncilaboutthenewmeetingdate.NextThursday.Yousaidyouwantedtoknowrightaway.”Then,withaslowturnofherhead,shelookeddown.“Hello,Philippe.You’relookingwell.”
Hewasstaringahead,outintothesunlitpatio,andatthesoundofhervoicedidnotmove.Thenhepushedhischairbacksothathecouldbetterlookupather.“Andyou,MarieClaude,areasbeautifulasever.I’vemissedyou.”
Iwantedtomarchoverandsmackhimupsidethehead.Wrong,Philippe.You’resupposedtojustsmileinacknowledgment.Maybecommentonhowithadbeenalongtime.HowaboutcongratulatingheronhermarriagetoEliot?Anythingbuttellinghershewasbeautiful.Anythingbutsayinghemissedher.Whatthehellwaswrongwithhim?
Therewassomethingshimmeringintheairbetweenthem.Shesuddenlyrelaxed,andasmilebrokeacrossherfacethatwaswarmandlovelyandonlyforhim.Hedidnotstandbutshiftedhisbodyjustenoughtoallowherspaceinhisworld,atthesametimeshuttingtherestofusout.Hisfacewasbrightashespoketoher,andIcouldnothearthewords,butsawthelookthatwentbetweenBingandClaudine.ThenMarieClaudelaughed,aclear,silverysoundIhadnotheardbefore.
Andthenitstruckme.Hehadnointerestintryingtomakehercomfortable.Hedidn’twanthertofeelhewasnotathreat.Becausehewas.IsuddenlyfeltverysorryforEliot,becauseIsaw,inrealtime,whatthetwoofthemweretoeachother.Eliothadeveryreasonintheworldtobejealous.
Simone,comingbesidemewithabasketoffreshberries,leanedtowardme.“PoorEliot,”shewhispered.“Hedoesn’tstandachance.”
Andstandingthere,watchingMarieClaudeandPhilippeweavetogetherawebofwhatseemedlikespunjoy,Ihadtoagree.
EliotleftforLyon.Iheardhimslammingthedoorearlyonemorning,mutteringashepassedbymywindow.Iwantedtojumpoutofbedandfollowhimout,urginghimtostay.Iwantedtoremindhimthathiswifewasfeelingabitoff-centerandthathisstayingwithherwouldshowloveandsupport.Iwantedtoremindhimthatofallthemenshecouldhavechosen,shehadmarriedhim.
WhatIreallywantedtotellhimwasthathewasastubborn,arrogantfooltoleavehiswifewithacharming,handsomemanwhowasstillinlovewithher,especiallysincehe’dbeenactinglikeacompletebearforweeks.
Ijuststoodbythewindowashetrundledpast,thinkingthatthereweretwosidestoeverystory,andmaybeIdidn’tfullyunderstandhis.MaybeIneverwould.Butitwasnotmyjob.ThatwasMarieClaude’sjob.
Iwasburningwithcuriosity,soIwaiteduntilPhilippeandClaudineweresettledinforbreakfastbeforeslippinguptheatticstairstoBing’sstudio.
“Hello?”Icalledup.
“Come,”heanswered.
HeemergedfromthebathroomasIwalkedup,dressedinlinendrawstringtrousersandnothingelse.Hischestwasbroadandcoveredbyamatofgrayhair,andhisskinwasalmostgolden.Icouldseetherippleofmuscleacrosshisshouldersashescrubbedhishairwithatowel.
“Lucia?Everythingokay?”heasked.
Iletoutaslowbreath.Everythingisfine,Iwantedtotellhim.Justperfect.CanIjustsithereforabit?Lookatyournakedtorso?Imaginethosestronghandsentangledinsomethingmoreinterestingthanatowel?
“Lucia?”
“Morning.I’msorry,Ididn’tmeantodisturbyou.”
Hewavedahand.“No,it’sfine.Justletmeputonashirt.”
Really?Doyouhaveto?
Henarrowedhiseyes.“Excuseme?”
OhmyGod.HadIsaidthatoutloud?“Imean,youdon’thaveto.I’veseennakedmenbefore.Well,notthatyou’renaked,but…Nevermind.”
Hegrinned.“I’llberightback.”
Hedisappearedbehindalargescreenontheothersideofhisbed.HowFrench,Ithought.That’swhereIwouldgo,topeeloffonearticleofclothingatatime,flippingthemupintheairandoverthescreenuntiltherewasasmallpileofclothesonthefloor,andthenI’dstepoutinallmyshiningglory…
“Lucia?”
Iclearedmythroat.“Eliotleftthismorning,”Iblurted.
Bingmadeaface.“Itriedtotellhimthatwasnotsuchagoodidea,”hemuttered.“IlikeEliot.Heisadecentman.IthinkhetookadvantageofMarieClaude.Whenhemether,shewasstillinabadplacebecauseofPhilippe,andIthinkEliotsawanopeninghewouldn’thavehadotherwise.NotthatIblamehim.Sheisadelight,thatgirl.Anymanwouldbeluckytohaveher.Butoncetheymarried,hebecameverycomplacent.Andthatwasadangerousthingtodo.Women,eventhemostindependentwomen,needtobeshowntheyareloved.Valued.”Helookedatme.“Lettingawomanknowhowimportantsheistoamanisamostvaluableweapon.”
“Youmakeitsoundlikeloveisawar,”Isaidlightly.
Hecrossedtomeandstoodclose.“Notawar.Iprefertothinkofitas…aconstantengagement.”
“Oh?”
Hereachedoutandbrushedastraycurlfrommycheek,hisfingersscorchingmyskin.“Fallinginlovewithaperson,beinginlovewithaperson,isnotpassive.Itiswork.Ittakestimeandenergy.”Hishanddrewback,andheleanedforwardsothatoureyeswereperfectlylevel.“Especiallyifoneofthepartiesneedsabitmoreconvincingthantheother.”
“Andhowdoyouknow?”Iwhispered.“Thatonepartyneedsmoreconvincing?”
“Usually,”hesaid,asmileplayingacrosshislips,“Icantellbyhowfasttheyrunintheoppositedirectioneverytimetheyseemecoming.”
Ihadbeenleaningforward,Icouldfeelmyselfbeingdrawncloserandcloser,tothecleanscentofhisskin,thedampcurlofhishairaroundhisears,thecrinklearoundhiseyes.Iwantedtoslipmyarmsaroundhisneck,feelthecooldampinmyfingersasmyhandscreptthroughhishair.Iwantedtoknowhowthoselipswouldtaste,iftheywouldbesoftagainstmyown.Heliftedahand,andIfelthimlightlytouchthecurveofmywaist,andItookanabruptstepback.
No.
No.
Iclearedmythroat.“Ineedtogotowork.”
“Ofcourse,”hesaidsoftly,stillsmiling.
Iturnedandcarefullymademywaydownthesteps.Iwasproudofmyselffornotrunning.
HenrySpicuttowassomethingofalegendinthetravelbusiness.Hestartedgivingsmall,personaltoursofhishometowninItaly,thenmovedintolargergroupsinallofItaly,andfinallybecamekingoftheEuropeanbustour,cateringmainlytowealthyseniormarriedcoupleswhodidn’tmindwalkingaroundwhentheyweresightseeing,butdidn’twanttoworryaboutfindingthenextmeal.Whenheretired,heturnedoverthebulkofhisbusinesstohissonsbutkepthisthumbinthepiebygoingbacktosmall,intimatetours,personalandexpensive.I’dmethimonseveraloccasionswhileatTheFielding,ashewasveryactiveinseveralhospitalitygroups.Welikedeachother.Andafterthescandalbroke,hewasoneofthefewindustrypeoplewhoreachedouttomerightaway,offeringsupport.He’dsentmeflowersonthedayitwasannouncedthattheFBIwasdroppingitscaseagainstme.
HewasaverysweetoldmanandoneofthefewprofessionalcontactsIhadn’tpurgedfrommyphone.So,whenhisnumbercameupascallingin,Iwassurprisedanddelighted.
“Henry?Hello!Oh,it’ssogoodtohearfromyou!”
“Lucy,honey,Ishouldhavecalledyousooner,but,youknow…”Icouldpicturehimshrugging,ashort,wirymaninhisseventies,withahaloofgrayhairandtwinklingdarkeyes.
“Yes,Idoknow.Life.Getsintheway,doesn’tit?”
Hechuckled.“Yes.Itdoes,butitgoeson,andthat’swhyI’mcalling.Ihaveatripinfourweeks.Notbig.Fifteencouples.WeweregoingtodoParisandvineyards,butthisgroup,theykeeptellingmetheydon’twanttowalkoutsideinthesunanddirtjusttoseeabunchofgrapevines.So,Ithoughtmaybewe’ddoBrittanyinstead.Rennes,Dinan,Saint-Malo,thewholeEnglishChannelthing.Whatdoyouthink?”
“Ithinkthat’sgreat,”Isaid.Then,jokingly,“Doyouneedafewrooms?”
“WhydoyouthinkIcalled?”heasked.“I’vebeenkeepingtabs,youknow?Yourplacelooksprettygood.So,canyoudofifteendoublesforeightdays?We’dcomeinonabus,ofcourse,andmaybedoafewovernights,butwe’dusetheHotelParadisforahomebase.Whatdoyouthink?”
I’dbeenatthefrontdeskbuthurriedtothebackofficeandsatbehindmycomputer.“When?”
“ArrivingSeptember3.Departingtheeleventh.”
Wehadtherooms.Ofcoursewedid.SeptembermarkedtheendofvacationseasoninEurope,andonthelastdayofAugust,wewentfromafullhousetoalmostempty.
“Ourelevatoristinyandancient,”Itoldhim.
“Myguysarespry,andtheycanusetheexercise.Canweallbetogether?”
“Youcanhavethewholesecondfloor,”Itoldhim.“Andwecanputtablesandchairsinthehallwaysoyourclientscansitandtalktogether.Weonlydobreakfast.”
“Yeah.Iknow.Yourwebsiteisverynice.”
Ifeltaglow.“Thanks,Henry.”
“Howareyoulikingitoverthere?Mustbeverydifferent.”
“Youhavenoidea.”
“Areyourightthere?Atthedesk,Imean.Thesefolksdon’tspeakFrench.”
“I’meverywhere,Henry,andifI’mnotaround,IwillmakesureMarieClaudeisavailable.ShespeaksexcellentEnglish.”
“Good.”
“So,toconfirm,wehavefifteendoublerooms.Emailmethenames.Wewillcompanotherroomforyou.AndDavid?”
DavidGarciahadbeenHenry’sbusinesspartnerandcompanionforaslongasI’dknownhim.TwentyyearsyoungerthanHenry,hewasacharmingdynamoofamanwhosemaintalentwastemperingHenry’senthusiasmwithcommonsense.
“Ofcourse.”
“Perfect.Howwouldyoufeelaboutabarbecuebuffetoneeveningforyourguests?”IhadbeenstallingStavrosallsummer,butwithatour,itwastheperfectchancetogetasetnumberofdinersinoneplaceatonetime.
“BarbecueaspreparedbyaFrenchchef?Thatsoundsjustgreat,Lucy.Great.”
Iwasn’tsureifStavroswasachef,butinthemonthsI’dbeeneatinghisfood,I’dneverhadabadmeal.ThatprettymuchwentforeveryplaceIateinRennes,butStavros,Ithought,hadacertaintouch.“Okay,then.Thatgivesyoutheentiresecondfloor.Someoftheseroomshavebalconies,somedon’t.Isthatanissue?”
“Nah,they’reprettychillaboutthat.ButI’lltakeabalcony.”
Ismiled.Henryalwaystreatedhimselfverywell.“Ireallyappreciatethis,Henry.Septemberwasgoingtobeaslowmonthforus.”AndOctober.AndNovember.
“I’lltalktosomepeople.Letthemknowthere’saclassy,American-friendlyhotelwithgoodratesandacentrallocation.”
“Thatwouldbeverygenerousofyou,Henry.”
Hewasquietforamoment.“IknewTonyalongtime.”
“Yes.Iknowyoudid.”
“Youdidn’tdeserveanyofthebullcrap.”
“No,Idon’tthinkIdid.Thankyouforsupportingme,Henry.Youdidfromtheverybeginning.”Ifeltmythroatstarttocloseup,andunexpectedtearsfilledmyeyes.
“Idon’tknowwhyeveryonebelievedhiminsteadofyou.Youweretheoneleftbehind.Hewastheonewhoran.”Thathadbeenmyargumentaswell.IfIhadbeenapartnerincrime,wouldn’tIhavedisappearedaswell?ButtheFBIhaddugintheirheels.
“Yes.Well.”
Hewassilentagain.“Igottago,Lucy.I’llgiveafewfolksacallandseeifwecansendsomebusinessyourway.”
“Thanksagain,Henry.”
Ihungupandstaredatthecomputerscreen.WehadonemorebookingfortheweekthatHenrywouldarriveandthreebookingsforthefollowingweek.ThankstoHenry,wewouldmaybemakepayrollforthemonth.
IgotuptofindClaudineandgiveherthegoodnews.ShelitupwhenItoldher.
“Thisgroup,youknowtheowner?”
Inodded.“Hedoesasmall,verypersonalizedtour.Usuallyonlytenorfifteencouples,whichisperfectforus.Youknowwecouldn’taccommodatelargergroups.”
“Buthecouldsendmoregroupsourway?”
“Yes,butwetalkedaboutthis,Claudine.Wedon’thavetheroomsforlargergroups.”
Shetappedherfingersagainstthetabletop.“Iknowthatatticroomsareout,butwhereelsecouldweexpand?”
Istared.“Claudine,it’sgoingtobeaveryslowfallandwinter.Therewon’tbemuchmoneyforanythingasextravagantasexpanding.Andwherewouldwego?”
Sheshrugged.“Wecoulddosomethingwiththeotherstableblock.Imean,wedon’tneedasmuchstorageanymore,andwehaveroominthecellar.”Shewrinkledherbrow,thinking.“We’dneedtoinstallbathrooms,ofcourse.”
“Andheat.Wecouldreplacealltheexistingwoodendoorswithportes-fenêtres,”Isaid,mymindkickingintohighgear.“Maybecreateprivatepatiosinfrontofeachunitwithplanters.Atableandsomechairs,rightinthecourtyard?Wecouldgetinthetenmoreunitswe’dneed.It’salotofspacethere.”
Claudinegrinned.“Yes.IwouldbehappytosacrificeKarl’stoolshedfortenmoreunits.”
“Butmoney,Claudine.”
Shemadeavaguegesture.“MaybeIcanfindanotherinvestorsomewhere,”shesaid.
Ileft,thinkingthatifanyonecouldmaterializeasourceofmoneyoutofthinair,itwasClaudine.
Philippewasmakinghiscase.
TherewereflowersleftatthedeskwhenMarieClaudewason.Nothingobvious,oftenjustasinglebloomwrappedinapieceofribbon.TheflowerswerenotfromKarl’sgarden,soPhilippehadtoventureoutintheveryearlymorningonthedayswhenMarieClaudearrivedatseven.Shewouldpickuptheofferingandpinittoherlapel,ortuckitbehindherear,fluffingherbluehairaroundit.
Hehadbreakfasteverymorningwithhismother,andifClaudinewasawareofhissubtlecampaign,sheneversaidanything.
PhilippespentmostofhistimeupinBing’sstudio,working,buthewouldcomedownatsomepointinthedayjusttoleanagainstthecounterandtalktoMarieClaude.Shealwayslitupwhenshesawhim.Healwaysleftherlaughing.
Idon’tthinkheevervisitedherinherappartement.Atleast,Ididn’thearanythingthroughthethickwalls.Intheevenings,whenshewasnotonduty,theywouldwalktogetheroutthroughtheirongates,returninglate.Alwayslaughing.
Onemorning,whenIwasatthedesk,Philippecamedown,hishandssmudgedwithcolor,thesmellofoilpaintonhisskin.
“MarieClaudeisn’tonuntilthisevening,”Itoldhim.
Henodded.“Yes.Iknow.Ijustwantedtosayhello.AndIwaswonderingifIcouldspendalittletimewithyou?MymotherhastoldmeyouaretheoneIshouldbelearningfrom.”
Iraisedaneyebrow,surprised.“Learningwhat?”
Heshrugged.“Thisbusiness.Apparently,HotelParadisisnotonlyupandrunningbutmakingmoney.AndsinceIamthesoleheirtothefamilyfortune,Ishouldatleastknowhowthingswork.”
“Well,Philippe,Iwouldbehappytoshowyouhowthingswork.Butfirst”—Ilookedhimupanddown—“youneedtochange.Blackpants,whiteshirt.Andasprettyasthatparticularshadeofblueis,youcan’twearit.”
Hegrinned.“Myfatherisright.Youaretheconsummateprofessional.”
Ifeltaglow.Binghadsaidthataboutme?Afterspendingweeks—no,months—questioningjustabouteverythingIdidandsaid?“I’mgoodatwhatIdo.AndI’vebeendoingitforaverylongtime.So,wecanstartthismorning,onceyou’veshoweredandchanged.”
Hegrinned.God,hewasbeautiful,andhehadhismother’swarmthandcharm.Hewouldmakeanexcellentinnkeeper,Ithought,inthetruest,mostold-fashionedsenseoftheword.
Afewminuteslater,Claudinecameout,asshealwaysdid,tocheckreservations.
“Wearefull?”wasalwaysherfirstquestion.
“Threeemptyrooms.Butwe’llbefullbytheweekend,”Itoldher.“Philippeiscomingdownlaterthismorning.Hesayshewantstolearnaboutthehotel.”
Shenoddedandgavemeagratefulsmile.“Yes,Ithinkheiscomingtotermswithhisplacehere.Luckily,Binghasmadeitclearthatyoucanbeasuccessfulartistandbesomethingelse.WithPhilippe,itwasalwaysallornothing.”
“Hewasyoung,”Isaid.
“Yes.Veryyoung.Beingawayhasdonehimaworldofgood.”
“AndMarieClaude?”
Shelookedthoughtful.“MarieClaudealwayshadherfeetfirmlyontheground.Firmlyhere.IthinkPhilippeseesthat‘here’isnotabadplacetobe.”
“But,Claudine,”Isaid,thinkingcarefullybeforeIspoke,“sheismarriedtoanotherman.”
Shesighed.“Iknow.IhavegrowntoloveEliot.Heisanhonorableyoungman.Butthisismyson.Hehasneverstoppedlovingher.Andhewilltrytowinherback.”Sheshrugged.“Icannottellhimnottofollowhisheart.”
“Evenifhebreaksuphermarriage?”
Shelookedatme.“Thingsthatarewholecannotbebroken,Lucy.Onlythingsthatareweakoralreadyhavecracks.AndonlyMarieClaudecandecidewhathermarriageisworth.”
Isighed.“IfIbelievedintruelove,IsupposeIwouldfindthisallveryromantic.”
Shesnorted.“Youdon’tbelieveintruelove?Bah.Youknowyoudo.”
Ilaughed.“Oh,really?Andhowdoyouknow?”
“Becausewhenpeopleseetruelovebeforethem,theyreact.Theymove,eithertowarditoraway.Theyeitheropenthemselvesup,ortheyclosethemselvesoff.”Shelookedsmug.“Theymaythinktheyarebeingverycool,andnoonecannotice,but”—shesmiled—“buttheworldalwaysknows.”
“Oh,”Isaid,feelingtheheatriseinmycheeks.
“Look,”shesaidsuddenly.“HerecomesPhilippe.Darling,IwillleaveyoutoourgoodLucyhere.Shewillteachyoueverythingyouneedtoknow.”
Hewaggledbotheyebrows.“Everything?My,IthoughtIwasjustgettingalessoninhowtorunahotel.”
Shelaugheddelightedly,andIhadtojoinher.
Philippe,inslimblackpantsandafittedstarchedwhiteshirtlookedhandsomeandveryefficient.“Iamreadyforanything,”heannounced.
Yes,Ithought.Heprobablywas.
EliotreturnedfromLyonfivedayssoonerthanexpected.Iwasinthebackofficewhenhesuddenlyburstin,lookingdisheveledandabitangry.“Whereisshe?”hedemanded.
Ilookedupfrommywork.“Shewon’tbeonuntilthisafternoon.IthinksheandVerawentintotheOldCity.”
“Why?”
“Ihavenoidea.Shopping?”
“Andwhereishe?”Eliotasked,hiseyesdartingaroundtheoffice.
“Whereiswho?”Iasked,refusingtoplayhisgame.
“Philippe,”hesnapped.“Hasheleftyet?”
Ishookmyhead.“No.AndIdon’tthinkheisleaving.Ithinkhe’sgoingtostay.”
Eliotfroze,andhiseyesnarrowedtouglyslits.“Why?”
“Becausethisishishome?”Isuggested.“Becausebothofhisparentsarehere?Becausesomeday,thishotelwillbehis?”
Heturnedandstompedout.
IsoughtoutClaudine.“Eliotisback.Early.YoumayhavetocoverabitofMarieClaude’sshift.Idon’tthinkit’sgoingtobeaveryjoyfulreunion.”
Sheshookherhead.“Iwasafraidofthis.Yes,ofcourseIcancover.”
AsImademywayacrossthecourtyard,Icouldheartheirvoices.Thedoorstotheirappartementwereclosed,butIcouldheartheriseandfallofEliot’sdeepvoiceandthefaintreplies.AsIopenedthedoortomyappart,Verapoppedherheadoutandmotionedmetoherdoor.
“Eliot?”sheaskedinahushedvoice.
“Yes.”Isighed.
Shesatonthebenchoutsideherdoorway,andIsatbesideher.
“Shehasbeenveryhappythepastfewweeks,”shesaid.
Inodded.“Yes.Inoticed.”
“Eliothasbeenagoodhusband,buthenevermadeherlaugh.”Sheranherhandsthroughhercroppedhairandshookherhead,herearringsclinkingfaintlytogether.“I,forone,neverunderstoodwhyshemarriedhiminthefirstplace.Iwatchedthewholecourtshipandwouldhaveneverexpectedhertosayyes.”
“Heshouldhavestayed,”Isaid.“Heshouldhavefoughtforher.”
“Andwhyshouldahusband‘fight’forhiswifetoremainfaithful?”sheasked.
“Idon’tthinkshehascheatedonhimwithPhilippe,”Isaidslowly.
“I’mquitecertainshehasn’t,”Veraagreed.“Notphysically,anyway.Butyou’veseenthemtogether?”
Inodded.“Ohyes.”
“And?DoyoureallythinkifEliothadstayed,shewouldnothavefallenagainunderPhilippe’sspell?”
“Iguess,”Isaid.“I’mangrybecauseEliotdidn’teventry.Hedidn’tcareenoughtostaywithher,toremindhereverydaywhattheirmarriagewas.Toshowherhowmuchhelovedher.Hejustranaway.”
“Ormaybe,”Verasaid,“hesteppedasidesoshecouldmakeadecisionwithoutunduepressure.”
Istaredather.“Like,what,givingherpermission?”
ShegavealookthatsuggestedIgobacktothedrawingboard.“Ofcoursenot.Butittakestwopeopletobehappy,orunhappy,inarelationship.AndIdon’tthinkEliotwaseverashappyashethoughthehadarighttobe.”
Wesatintheafternoonsun,justenjoyingthebreezeandthefaintsoundoftraffic.
“ThoserosesKarlplantedarebeautiful,”shesaid.
“Yes.Ibetnextyeartheywillbereallysomething.”
“Thehotelisdoingwell,Itakeit?Lotsoffolksgoinginandout.”
“Yes,we’redoingprettywell.Doesitbotheryou?Tohaveallthesestrangerswalkingthrough?”
Shelookedthoughtful.“It’snotasbigadealasI’dthoughtitwouldbe.Theyleavemealone.They’recurious,ofcourse.Afterall,howoftendoyouseepeoplelivinginanoldstable?IsometimesthinkIcouldchargethemorecuriousonesafeweurosforapeekinside.”
Ilaughed.“Karlwasthinkingaboutsellingsomeofhisproducetotheguests.Everyonehereistryingtofigureoutasidehustle.”
“I’mjusthappyforClaudine.Shefinallyhasherhotelandherson,andshedeservesallherhappiness.She’saveryspecialperson.Shewasluckytohavefoundyou.”
Ididn’targue,asImighthaveafewmonthsorevenweeksbefore.NotjustanyonecouldhavedonewhatI’ddonewithHotelParadis.Ihadsettledintothattruth,anditfeltgood.Thisrelichadneededaspecialtouch,adifferentvision,andIhadbeentheonetobringitalltogether.ButIalsoknewthatI,too,hadbeenlucky.IdoubtedIcouldhavefoundanyotherplaceashealing.
VeraandIwatchedasMarieClaudehurriedoutofherappart,runningacrossthecourtyardandintothehotel,gettingtowhereshebelonged.Andafewdayslater,VeraandIwatchedagainasEliot,grim-facedandsilent,stuffedaduffelbagandtwolargesuitcasesintothebackofGeorges’sVolvo.EliotgotinbesideGeorgesanddidn’teventurntowaveasthecarslidoutofthecourtyardandaway.ChapterFourteen
Thebuspulledinlaterthanexpected,anditwasalmostfiveintheeveningbeforeIheardthefaintwhineofamotorcoachinthecourtyard.Iwasinmyappartement,andMarieClaudehadsentmeaquicktexttheywerearriving,butIwasalreadyonmywaytogreetthem.
Henrycameoutofthebusfirstandspreadhisarmswidewhenhesawme.
“Lucy!Darlin’,youlookgorgeous!”heexclaimedashewrappedmeinabearhug.
Hisarmsfeltsogoodaroundme,andIfeltaquickstartoftearsthattookmebysurprise.Ashesteppedaway,Ibrushedthemwiththebackofmyhand,buthesaw.
“Oh,Lucy,”hesaid.“Don’t.Iknowhowharditwas,butit’sallgoodnow,right?”
InoddedandmovedasideasDavidsteppedout.Hegrinnedandgavemeaquickkissonthecheek.“Sogoodtoseeyou,”hesaid,thenheldoutahandasthefirstofHenry’stouristscameoffthebus.
Theywereallolder,allwelldressed,andseemedgenuinelyexcitedtobecheckingintoanhonest-to-godchateaudatingbacktothe1700s.Theyoohedandaahedinthecourtyard,pointedtothestableappartements,grinnedoverthecobblestones,and,withHenry’senthusiasticencouragement,toldmehowmuchtheylovedtheplacebeforetheyevengotintothelobby.
Henrysurehadprimedthemright.
DavidandHenryalreadyhadtheroomassignmentsandwerecarryinguptheluggagefromthebusastheguestswaitedtocheckin.Theyallseemedperfectlycontenttocarrytheirtotebagsandduffelbags.IknewthatHenryonlyallowedonesuitcaseperperson,andithadtobesmallenoughtoqualifyasanairlinecarry-on,sothesuitcaseswereallparkedoutsideoftheroomsbythetimeeveryonewascheckedin.Claudinesweptinand,inhaltingEnglish,welcomedthemalltoherfamily’shotelandwishedthemallapleasantstay.Therewasactualapplausewhenshewasdone,andasIwatchedthemallstartupthegrandstaircase,IleanedovertoMarieClaude.
“Thesemaybethebest-behavedguestswe’veeverhad,”Imurmuredtoher.
Shenodded.“Youmayberight.I’mstartingtoappreciateAmericanguestsmoreandmore.”
“They’reawedbythehistory.Franceisaveryoldcountry.Thishotelmaybetheoldestbuildingsomeofthesepeoplehaveeversleptin.”
Shenodded.“PhilippesaysthesamethingaboutCanada,”shesaid.
“Andhowareyoutwogettingalong?”Iasked,tryingtosoundtotallydisinterested.
Shesighed.“Idon’tknow.IfeelverysadaboutEliot.Iwishhewouldhavestayed.Ithoughthelovedmemorethanthat.”
Iwatchedherface.Hereyeswerefulloftears,butshesmiledbravely.“Afterheleft,Ithought,NowthereisnothingtostandbetweenPhilippeandme.Now,wecanbetogetherButthen,Ifeelsadagain.”Shetookadeepbreath.“Loveisveryconfusingsometimes.”
Inodded.“You’rerightthere,MarieClaude.”IhadnotseenmuchofPhilippe,orBing,forthatmatter.Theyspentmostofthedaylighthoursonthethirdfloor,onlycomingdownatnighttositinthegardenaftergoingintotownfordinner.Everymorning,PhilippehadbreakfastwithClaudineinthesalon,whereshehadtakentohavingherespressoandcroissantwiththeguests.
Butafterafewdays,someofthemoreoutgoingmembersofHenry’stourgrouptooknoticeofthefatherandson.
AftertheverysuccessfulFrenchifiedsouthernbarbecue,EvelynButterworthdetachedherselffromherhusbandandaskedifthat“ruggedolderFrenchman”livedatthehotel.MarieClaudehadmanagedtoputheroffbypretendingtonotunderstandthequestion,sendingthedeterminedandobviouslynot-all-that-happily-marriedEvelynafterme.
“Lucy,dear,”shesaid,loweringhervoiceandleaningoverthecounter.“Thatoldergentleman,withhisson?Theonesthatsitoutinthatlovelygardenofyourseverynight?Doeshelivehere?Imean,areheandClaudine…?”Sheraisedhereyebrows,givingmeaverysignificantlook.
“Hehashisownsuite,”Itoldher.ThenIloweredmyvoiceandadded,quitesuggestively,“AsdoI.”
“Oh.”Shepulledback,lookingdisappointed.“Really?”
Inodded.“Really.”
“Oh.Well…”Shesighedandlookedbackatthestoop-shoulderedMr.Butterworth.“Howdisappointing.”
Talkaboutjungledrums.Thenextmorning,astheywereboardingthebusforadaytriptoSaint-Malo,Henrymotionedtome.
“Isittrue?Aboutyouandthatdeliciousartistchap?”
Ipulledbackandstared.“Chap?YoumeanBing?Henry,areyoukiddingme?IsthatyourCaryGrantimitation?Andwheredidyouhearthat?”
Heshrugged.“Everytouristhesame.Assoonastheyrunoutofhistoricaltriviatotalkabout,theyzeroinoneachother.Orthestaff.AndEvelynhasalreadydevelopedquitethereputation.”
“Forwhat?”Iasked,fascinated.
Heraisedhiseyebrows.“YoushouldhaveseenherinParis.Withawaiter.Ofcourse,nowthatIknowherhusbandabit,Icompletelyunderstand,butforawomanherage,well,you’datleastexpectacertainamountofdiscretion.”
Istaredafterher,slightandsmiling,vaguelyprettywithsnow-whitehairandpaleblueeyes.“Ohmy.”
“Shehadzeroedinon—whatdidyousayhisnamewas?Bing?—immediately.Andsheisapparentlyverydisappointedthathe’snotreadilyavailablebecauseofhisinvolvementwithyou,”Henryconfided.
“Well,aslongasitdoesn’taffectourYelprating,”Imurmuredback,wavingtothelibidinousseniorassheclimbedaboardthebus.“Butno,we’renotinvolved.”
“Well,ifIwereyou,I’dkeepthefantasyalive,forhissake.AnditwillkeepJonathanaway,”Henrycontinued.
“Jonathanofthegraygoatee?”Iasked.
“Yes.Twicehe’saskedmeifyou’vebeenknownto,Ibelievetheexpressionheusedwas,‘shtuptheclientele.’”
Idrewback.“Really?Howoldishe,anyway?Seventy?Isn’theabitoldforshtupping?”
Henrygrinned.“Menarenevertooold,”hesaid.“AndI’veseentheinsideofhiscarry-on.HepackedenoughViagratoserviceeverywhoreinMarseilles.”
Ithoughtback.Yes,Jonathanhadflirted,butnotjustwithme.MarieClaudementionedsomething,ashadSimoneafteryesterday’sbreakfast,andthemaidInes.“Whatadirtyoldman,”Imuttered.“Hasheneverheardofsexualharassment?Doesn’theknowhecan’tdostufflikethatanymore?”
Henrylaughed.“Menlikehimthinktheycandowhatevertheylike.Andyoucan’tblamehimfortrying.You’restillquitealooker,youknow.”
Ipokedhimintheribswithmyelbow.“Henry,don’teverchange.”
“NotifIcanhelpit,darlin’.”Hewavedhisarms.“Let’shurrythisup,folks.It’sabeautifulmorning.Wedon’twanttowasteit.”
Iwatchedthemgowithatwingeofenvy.IhadmadethetriptoSaint-Malomyself,inlateMay.TherehadbeenabreakintheworkbecauseRaoulhadfallenbehind,andIhadadaywithnothingtodo.Ihadwantedtospenditinbed,nappingandreading,butClaudinehadmentionedSaint-Malo,anancientpiratestronghold,andtalkedupitshighstonefortificationsandsandybeach.Itwasadaytrip,quickbutlovely,andIwalkedalongthesamewaterthatlappedthecoastofEngland,milesandmilesacrossthechannel.
Iwavedasthebusturnedoutofthecourtyard.TheywouldbethereforsixmoredaysbuthadanovernightinNantesplannedforthenextday,givingusallabitofabreather.Theyhadbeen,allinall,adelightfulgroup,patientandeasytoplease.Iknewthatsometourgroupscouldbearealhorrorshow,butHotelParadishadmadeitthroughthesummercrushwithflyingcolors.
ClaudinewasbehindthedeskasIcamebackintothelobby.
“Aretheygonefortheday?”sheasked.
Inodded.
“Wecoulduseanothertourlikethatone,”shesaid.“Wecoulduseseveral.”
“I’llworkonit,”Itoldher.“Thesetoursarebookedmonthsinadvance.Nooneisgoingtocallusupandreservefornextweek.ButHenrywillgetthewordout.Howaboutyourconnections?”
Shemadeaface.“Whatconnections?”
Irolledmyeyes.“Gee,Claudine,wasn’tthattheministerof—wait—tourismthatsathereafewweeksago,knockingbackhundred-year-oldwineandlookingsmug?”
“Oh.Him.”Shemadeaface.“Yes,IsupposeIcangivehimacall.”
Iglancedaroundattheemptylobby.“I’mgoingtorunuptoBing’sforasecond.I’llberightbackdown.”
Sheshruggedandgavemeanunreadablelook.“Takeallthetimeyouneed.”
UpinBing’sstudio,hewasnotathiseaselbutathislaptop,Philippelookingoverhisshoulder.
“Sorry,”IcalledwhenIsawthem.“I’minterrupting.I’llcomeback.”
Philippestraightenedandwaved.“No,I’mtheonewhoshouldbegoing.”Heputahandonhisfather’sshoulder.“I’llseeyoulater.”
Hewentpastanddownthesteps.IwatchedasBingclosedhislaptop.
“I’vecometowarnyou,”Isaid.“EvelynButterworthhasgotyouinhersights.”
Helookeddelighted.“Really?Andwhichoneisshe?Thattallonewiththeimprobableredhair?”
Ishookmyhead,smiling.“No.”
Hemanagedtolookdisappointed.“Oh.Thegraypixiecut?Shelookslikethere’sabitoflifeleftinher.”
Ishookmyheadagain.“Nope.Whitehair.Blueeyes.Herhusbandistheshort,baldgentlemanwiththestoop.”
“Herhusband?”Hethrewbackhisheadandlaughed.“ShouldIbeflatteredorworriedformylife?”
“You’resafefornow,Ithink.IinsinuatedthatyouandIwere,well,anitem?”
Hesatback,onearmdrapedacrossthebackofhischair.“Aren’twe?”
Iwasstruckdumb.
Hecockedhishead.“Well,aren’twe?Let’sfaceit,Lucia,eventhoughwetendtocircleeachotherlikecatswhenwe’retogether,there’salsoacertainattraction.Youdon’treallythinkI’vebeentryingtoimprovemybehaviorjustbecauseI’vefinallyrecognizedtheerrorofmyways,doyou?”
“Improveyourbehavior?”Iblurted.“Whatimprovementisthat?”
Helookedhurt.“Youhaven’tnoticed?Ihavebeenmakingaconcertedefforttonotnitpickandcriticizeyourwork.”
“MaybeIhaven’tnoticedbecauseyou’reneveraroundanymorewhileI’mactuallydoinganywork.”
Hestood.“Well,forgivemeifI’vestoppedpaintingwallstoactuallypaintsomethingelse.ThisishowImakemyliving,youknow.”
“Yes,Iknow.ButIhaven’tseenanyimprovementinyourbehavior.Youstillthinkyou’realwaysthesmartestpersonintheroom.”
Hetookastepcloser.“SometimesIam,”hepointedout.“Likerightnow.IknowthatyouandIhavesomethinggoingonbetweenus.Let’sfaceit,whenwe’realoneinaroomtogether,therearesparks.Whenarewegoingtoactonthem?”
“Sexualattractiondoesnotmakeusanitem.”
“Ah,soyouadmittotheattraction?”Hewasevenclosernow,andIswearIcouldfeeltheheatofhimfromafootaway.“Whatarewegoingtodoaboutit?”
“Nothing,”Isnapped.“I’mnotgoingtofallintobedwithyoujustbecauseIthinkitwillfeelgood.”
“Idon’tblameyou.Butwhatabouttherest?Youknowitwouldnotbejustaboutsex.”
Ididknow,andthatwaswhatkeptmeaway.Yes,hedrovemecrazysometimes,buthealsolegitimatelychallengedme,mademethink,mademelookattheworldthroughadifferentlens,mademelaugh…
“ImadeupthestorytoEvelynsoshewouldleaveyoualone.That’sall.”
Hisfacesoftened.“Lucia,aren’tyouevengoingtotry?”hewhispered.Hereachedoutbothhandsandgentlytookholdofmyarms,pullingmetowardhim.Ifelttheroughlinenofhisshirtasmyarmswentaroundhimandfeltthecoolbrushofhislipsagainstmine,andahundreddifferentfeelingssprangtolifeatonce,allglowingandshouting,Yes!
“Ican’t,”Isaidhoarsely.“Idon’t,Ican’t…”Isteppedawayfromhim,myfaceburningwithheatandwantanddetermination.
Hebackedaway.“Wheneveryou’reready,”hesaidquietly.
Iwalkeddownthenarrowstepswithmyhandpressedagainstmylips,asiftoholdthecoolnessthereforever.AndwhenClaudinesawme,ifshenoticedmyflamingcheeksorheardthepoundingofbloodinmychest,shedidn’tsayaword.Shejustsniffed,handedmethereservationslist,andsmiled.
“You’rerightaboutdearGuillaume,”shesaid.“Iwillgivehimacall.IthinktheministeroftourismfortheentirecountryofFrancemayhaveabitofinfluence.NowthatIseewecanhandlethis,Iwillseewhathecandoforus.”
Iwasgratefulforthedistraction.“Didyoureallydoubtthatwecouldtakecareofatourgroup?Claudine,I’mdisappointedinyourlackoffaith.”
Shegrinned.“Ialwayshavefaith,Lucy.ButIamapracticalwoman.Now,afterthepastfewmonths,Ihaveseenwhatwecando.So,myfaithismuchstronger.”
Ifeltasurgeofpride.Yes,wehaddoneagreatjobthroughoutthesummer.Yes,wecouldhandleagroup.Wecouldhandleanything.
TheonlythingIknewforcertainIcouldn’thandlewasBing.
Whenthecallcame,Ijuststaredatmyphone.Iknewthenumber.ItwasDarrenWhitman,thefederalagentwhohadbeeninchargeofthecaseagainstme.Hehadbeenacalm,determinedmanwho,evenafterthegovernmentfailedtofindanyevidenceofmyinvolvementinthetheftofmillionsofdollarsthatTonyFieldinghadengineered,pointedafingerinmyfaceandwhispered,“Iknow.”
Hedidn’tknowsquat.Whatcouldhepossiblywantnow?
Itookabreathandsteadiedmyvoice.“AgentWhitman.Whatthehelldoyouwantwithmenow?”
“Ah.Ms.Gianetti.Stillcharmingasever,Isee.How’sFrance?”
“Fine.”Fullstop.Ifhewantedtochat,he’dhavetoworkforit.
“Ms.Gianetti?”
“Stillhere.”
“Ihavesomeinformationyoumightfindinteresting.”
“Oh?”Ihadgrowntohatethesoundofthisman’svoice,sosmoothandsure,evenwhenhehadnothingofsubstancetosay.Iheardhimbreathing.Washewaitingformetosaysomethingelse?Askabouttheweather?Inquireaboutthekids?Sorry,AgentWhitman.Youmadethecall.
Finally.“We’vefoundTonyFielding.”
Thewordshitlikeaphysicalblow.I’dbeenleaningagainstthecounterinthelobbyoftheHotelParadis.Itwasmidafternoonhere,meaningitwasearlymorningintheStates.Iputmyhandoutagainstthesmoothmahoganytosteadymyself.
“What?”
“WefoundFielding.He’sbeenlivinginavillageinWales.Someoneinthelocalpubrecognizedhimandcalledthelocalauthorities,whonotifiedus.He’sbeingheldandwillbeextraditedinthenextfewdays.”
InWales.AfewhoursfromFrance.Justacrossthechannel.Iclearedmythroatandtriedtosoundlikethenewsmeantnothing,hopinghecouldn’thearthepoundingofmyheartacrosstheAtlantic.“That’sgood,”Isaid,pleasedthatmyvoicedidn’tcrack.
“He’smadeastatement.Hehasclaimedallresponsibilityforthetheft.Heswearsyouwerenotinvolved.”
“Butyouknewthatalready,didn’tyou?Bythecompletelackofanyevidenceagainstme?”
“It’sgoodtogetverification,”hesaid,withoutahintofembarrassmentinhisvoice.Orapology.Hehaddoggedmeformonths,pryingintoeverysinglefacetofmylife.IknewIwasinnocent,buthealwaysmademefeelthattheonelittlethingheneededtoputmeinprisonfortherestofmylifewasjustathisfingertips.
“Wealsohavethemoney,”hesaid.
Iblinked,andmymouthwentdry.“Themoney?”
“Yes.HehaditstashedinaccountsallovertheUK,andinSwitzerland,buthe’sgivenallthenecessaryinformation,andweshouldbeabletorecoveraboutninetypercentofwhathetook.”
“Andyou’llgiveitback?”Iasked.
Iheardhimsnort.“Can’twaittogetyourhandsonallthatcash?”
IfeltariseofangerthatIhadn’texperiencedsincethelasttimeI’dtalkedtothistotallyunsympatheticandarrogantman.“Thatpensionfundrepresentedyearsofsavingsforhundredsofemployeeswhowerecountingonthatmoneyfortheirretirement.I’donlybeenthereeightyears,butsomeofthosepeoplehadstartedwithTonytenyearsbeforethatandhadputthewholeoftheirtrustinhim.Theyweredevastatedbytheloss.Andtheinvestors?Theybelievedinhim.Hemadethembelieve.It’snotjustaboutme,AgentWhitman.Itwasneverjustaboutme,despitewhatyouthought.”
Hewassilent.
SowasI.Ineededtoabsorbthis.Tony,livinginavillageinWales.He’dtalkedaboutthat,ofgoingsomewhereawayfromeverything,aquieter,simplerlife.Alifewithouthavingtomakecountlessdecisionseveryday.Notelevisionorcellphone,nodistractionsatall.Wherehecouldjustbe.
Ihadlaughedwhenhe’ddescribedit.Hehadreveledinthespotlight,loveddroppingthenamesoftherichandfamous,tookeveryphotoopthatcamehisway.Icouldneverreconcilethemanhesoobviouslywaswiththemanheclaimedhewantedtobe.
“Itwilltakeajudgemonthstodecidewhogetshowmuchmoneyandwhen,”AgentWhitmancontinued.“Ijustwantedyoutoknow.IfyoucomebacktotheStates,Icanprobablyarrangeforyoutoseehim.”
“AndwhywouldIwanttodothat?”Thewordsfelloutofmymouthwithoutmyhavingtothinkaboutthem.WhatevermyheartmayhavestillheldforTony,myheadknewexactlytherightthingtosay.
“Heaskedaboutyou.Thatwasoneofthefirstthingshewanted,totalktoyou.Hewantedtoaskyourforgiveness.”
“Well,he’dbewastinghistime.”Ifeltmyheartstarttorace.“Whathedidwasunforgivable.”
“Oh.”ForthefirsttimesinceI’dknownhim,Whitmansoundedsurprised.“Ijustthought,well…”
“Youreallyshouldn’tdothat,AgentWhitman.Think,Imean.EspeciallywhenitcomestothinkingaboutwhatImightknoworsayordo.Haven’tyoulearnedthatbynow?”
Moresilence.“Haveagoodlife,Ms.Gianetti.”
“You,too,AgentWhitman.”Iturnedoffthephoneandsetit,verygently,downonthesmoothwoodencounter.
Tonywouldgotoprison,maybeforyears,ormaybenot.Hewasasmart,rich,well-knownwhiteman.Thatbreeddidn’tusuallyspendtimebehindbars.Notthatitmatteredtome.NowthattheinitialshockwasoverandIreadjustedmythinkingaroundthefactthat,forthefirsttimeinovertwoyears,IknewwhereTonywasandwhathewasdoing,Ifeltacalmdetachment.
Itdidn’tmatter.
Hedidn’tmatter.WhateverthreadIhadbeenunconsciouslyclingingtoforallthosemonthshadsnapped,andIhadafeelingofsuddenandcompletefreedom.Therewasnothingleft.Nothingholdingmeback.Now,forthefirsttime,Icouldseemywaytowardanotherpath.
Ilookedaroundtheemptylobby.IcouldhearMarieClaudebackintheoffice,hernailsclickingonthecomputer.Ineededtotalktosomeone.Anyone.Mymindwasracing,andIfeltsomanydifferentemotionsallatonce:anger,sorrow,relief,sadness,regret…
Iwentupstairstotheattic.
ToBing.
IcouldhearmusicasIwentupthelastflightofstairs.Bluegrassmusic.Afiddleandabanjoand…whatwasthat?Amandolin?
Istoodatthefootofthestairsandcalledup,butwiththemusic,Iknewhecouldn’thearme,soIclimbedtothetopofthestairs.
Hewasworking.Hestoodatthebankofwindows,hisbacktome,hisbrushflyingacrossalargecanvasfullofsoftpinksandgreens.Washepaintingfrommemory?No,Isawalargephotographpinnedtothesideofthecanvas.
Iwatchedhimwork.Henoddedintimetothedancingfiddle.Thenhesteppedback,tiltedhishead,andsetdownhispalette.Hesteppedbackevenfarther,ranhishandsthroughhishair,andnodded.
“Bing?”Icalled.
Heturnedsharply,andhiseyebrowsflewup.“Lucia?Isanythingwrong?”
“TheyfoundTony,”Iblurted.
Hefumbledforaremotecontrolandthemusicstopped.Westaredateachother
“Tellme,”hesaid.
Icrossedtothewindows.Itriedtostopmyhandsfromtwistingtogether.“HewasinWales.He’sbeingextradited.Andtheyfoundmostofthemoney.”
Binggrabbedmyclenchedfistsandledmetooneoftheoverstuffedchairs.Isat,andhesatonthelowtableinfrontofme.“That’sallgood.”
Inodded.“Yes.Itis.Andheapparentlymadeastatementexoneratingme.”
Hestillheldmyhands,andhesqueezedthem.“That’sverygood.”
Iwasstillnodding.“Yes,Iguessitis.Ijust—”Itookabreath.“Idon’tknowwhattodowiththis.It’ssomuch.Afterallthistime.Idon’tknowwhatI’msupposedtothink.”
Hishandswerewarmandrough.Therewasoilpaintsmearedacrossoneofhisforearms,andIstaredatthebrilliantblueagainsthisskin.
“Hewantedmetoforgivehim,”Isaidquietly.
Bing’seyesweresteady.“And?Wouldyou?”
“No.Itwasn’tjustmethathebetrayed.Therewerepeoplewhohadworkedforhimforovertwentyyears.Whohadhelpedhimattheverybeginning.Whohadputalltheirfaithinhim.Whathedidtomewasnothingcomparedtowhathedidtoallofthem.”
“Whathedidtothemwasdifferent,”Bingsaid.“Itwasmoney.Sure,itwastrust,butitwasn’taboutlove.Ifhewantedyoutoforgivehim,itwasbecauseoflove.”
“Heneverlovedme,”Isaid.“Henevercouldhavedonewhathedidifhelovedme.”
“Peoplemaketerriblemistakesallthetimewiththepeopletheylove,”Binginsisted.
“Whyareyoutryingtomakehimabettermanthanhewas?”Iasked.
Bingsqueezedmyhandsagain.“Becauseofhim,youdon’ttrustyourselfanymore.Becauseyouchosetolovehim,youthinkyouwillneverbeabletomakeanyrealdecisionsaboutwhoyouletintoyourlife.AndIwantyoutobeabletoloveagain.”
“Why?”Ididn’trealizeIwasholdingmybreathuntilhesmiled.
“BecauseIthinkyoucouldloveme.”
Theroomwasveryquiet.Icouldhearthefaintsoundofbirdscominginthroughtheopenwindowandthesoundofmyownpoundingheart,butthatwasall.Bingwasstill,sittingacrossfromme,smilinggently,stillholdingmyhands.
“Youdrivemecrazy,”Ifinallysaid.
“I’msureIdo,”heconceded.“Icanbeaterriblepainintheassattimes.”
“Whyisthat?”Iwasgenuinelycurious,butalsoplayingfortime.HerewassomethingelseIdidn’tknowwhattodowith.
Heshrugged.“It’sjustmynature,Isuppose.Igrewupinahousewherenoonewantedtomakedecisions.IfIwantedanything,Ihadtokindofbullymywayforward.Unfortunately,whenIbecameanadult,notmanypeoplepushedback.”Hissmilebroadened.“Iactuallyenjoyitwhenyoupushback.”
“So,becauseIdon’ttakeyourcrap,youthinkIcouldloveyou?”
“No.ButIknowyou’reattractedtome.IknowI’mattractedtoyou.Ithinkwegetalong.We’reagoodteam.Wehavethesamevalues,andweenjoyeachother’scompany.That’sagoodbeginning,don’tyouthink?”
Inodded.AsIlookedathim,Ifeltmyselffallingforward,intothedeepkindnessofhiseyes,andIwantedmorethananythingtokisshim.“Howcanweknowforsure?”Iwhispered.
“Wecan’tknowforsure.That’sthepoint.Youhavetogoonfaith,andyoulostyours.”
“So,youwantmetobelievethatlovingTonywastherightthingtodobecausethenIcanloveyou?”
“Yes.”
“Howshouldwestart?”Iasked.
“I’llleavethatuptoyou.”
Ileanedforwardthenandkissedhim,andonceourlipstouched,itwaslikeadamburst,andweeksofcirclingandsparringandglancesandglarestumbledtogetherintoawaveofwishandwantthatblockedouteverythingelse.IfeltlikeIwasdrinkinghimin,andonceIbegan,Icouldnotgetenough.
Westood,ourmouthsneverseparating,andIcouldfeelmyhandsagainstthesmoothcottonofhisshirtandthenthesmoothersilkofhisskin,andfingersfumbledasclothesdroppedaway.
Ourlipspartedonlytospeak,breathlessfragments.
“Areyousure?”
“Don’tstop.”
“OhmyGod.”
“Isthatgood?”
“Ihavecondoms…Wait…”
“CanI?”
“Shouldwe?”
Wesomehowmadeitacrosstheroomandfellbehindthewalloflacethatsurroundedthebed.
Weweretoorushed.Iknewaswecametogetherthatweshouldhavetakenmoretime.Wefumbledandpantedliketeenagers.WhatIwouldhavewantedwastoexplore,experiment,askmorequestions.ButhemusthavefeltthesamewayasIdidbecauseintheminutesafterweweredone—muchtooquickly—helaughed.
“ThatwasnotassuccessfulasIwouldhaveliked.”Herolledoveronhisside,lookeddownatme,andlaughedagain.“Iusuallydon’tapologizetowomenafterward,but…”
Isnorted.TheonlysatisfactionIfeltwasafeelingoffinally.Inodded.“Yeah.Ithinkthatweprobablycouldhavedonethisbetter.”
Heletoutadeepbreath.“ThankGoditwasn’tjustme,”hesaidandlaughedagain.Hefellbackandreachedformyhand,holdingittightlyandbringingittohislips.“Ihadenvisionedamuchsubtlerseduction.”
“Oh?Didyoureallythinkyou’dhavetoseduceme?”
“Iwasn’tsure.ButIhadplannedoncandlelightandsoftmusic.Wine,ofcourse.Andpossiblypeelinggrapes.”
Igiggled.“Peelinggrapes?Veryold-school,don’tyouthink?”
Herubbedthebackofmyhandagainsthislips.“Iamactuallyaveryold-schoolkindofguy.WhenIproposedtomywife,Igotdownononeknee.AndIsentflowersthedaywedivorced.”
“Goodtoknow.AtleastIhavesomethingnowtolookforwardto.”
Welaysidebysideinsilence,andtheafternoonsunwasalmostgone,castingshadowsonthebed.
“IfIweretwentyyearsyounger,”hesaidatlast,“I’dreachover,andwe’dstartalloveragain,muchmoreslowly.Butasitis,wouldyouliketowalk?Wecouldgetsomedinnerandexchangeourfavoritesexhorrorstories.”
“Doyouhavemany?”Iasked.
“NotasmanyasIprobablyshouldforamanwho’sbeenunattachedformostofhisadultlife.IsometimesthinkIwastoocautiousaboutsex.”Herolledoveronhissideagaintolookatme.“Whataboutyou?”
“Iprobablyhavetoomany,”Isaidwithagrimace.“Lotsofveryattractivemencomeandgowhenyouworkinthehotelindustry,andIwassingleformostofmycareer.”
“Howrefreshing,”hesaidandkissedmegently.“Butnoslut-shaming.Ipromise.”
“Iwouldhopenot.Thisisthetwenty-firstcentury,afterall.AndFrance.”
“Yes.AndFrance.”Hestareddownatme,andhismouthbegantotwitch.Thenhestartedlaughing,andIjoinedhim.
Itwasaverygoodbeginning.ChapterFifteen
PhilippewasspendinghistimebehindthedeskofHotelParadiswithMarieClaude.Imayhavebeentheexpert,butonceEliotleft,Philippemusthavefiguredthatallbetswereoffandthrewhimselfattheyoungwomanwithfullforce.
Ididn’tcare.LeavingthetwoofthemalonemeantthatIhadmoresparetime,andthattimewasspentwithBing.
Hadwebeentwentyyearsyounger,wewouldhavespentmostofourtimeinbed.Asitwas,wesatandtalked,walkedthequietstreetsintheevenings,laughedagreatdeal.Whenweweretogether,usuallyinhislargeatticbed,surroundedbywidewindowslettingintheeveningstars,wewereslowandpatient,exploring,askingquestionsandlearningallwecouldaboutourbodiesandwhattheyneeded.LikeeverythingelseIfeltwithBing,itwasnewanddifferentandtotallyreal.
Wehadtwosmalltourgroupscomethrough,onefromSpainandonefromItaly.Theywereenoughtogetusthroughasmallquietspell,andthenbookingspickedupasthefalldrewon.Theweatherwascooler,andoldercouplescheckedin—retiredfolksnotdependentonsummershutdowns.
Karl’sgardenturneddryandgolden,andIawokeonemorningtoseePhilippewalkingquietlyawayfromMarieClaude’sfrontdoor.IsighedanddrewmyrobeuparoundmyshouldersandlookedbackatBing,snoringpeacefullyinmybed.
Thehotelwassuddenlybusy.Wehadseveralreturnguests.Thebusinesstypes,whowouldhavenormallystayedclosertothecitycenter,checkedinmorefrequentlynow,praisingthequietandefficientservice,gratefultobeawayfromthenoiseandcrowds.
Claudineraisedaneyebrow.“Ilovemyoldclients,”shesaid.“Theyhavehelpedspreadtheword.Now,weneedmorerooms,Lucy.”
Ishookmyhead.“Everhearofphysics,Claudine?Youcan’tcreatespacefromnothing.Andyoucan’trenovateexistingspacewithoutmoney.”
Shethrewmealook.“Thatlastbit?Whatscientificprincipleisthat?”
“Lucy’slaw,”Isaid,andshelaughed.
Onmydaysoff,Inolongerlookedforsomethingelsetodoatthehotel.BingandIwouldsetoff,sometimesjustwalkingtheoldstreetsofRennes.We’dtakeatrainonawhim:Saint-Malo,Nantes,Dinan.
“Thegirlswouldlovethis,”Itoldhim,watchingtheboatsglidegentlydowntheriver.“Theyloveboats.Theylearnedtokayakatcampafewyearsago,andthey’vebeenfascinatedeversince.”
“Well,whentheycometovisit,wewillrentasailboatandtaketotheopensea.”
Istaredathim.“Yousail?”
Heshrugged.“Iamamanofmanyhiddentalents.”
Ilaughed.“Yes,thatyouare.”
Hewaggledhiseyebrowsatme.“I’mgladtohavefoundsuchanappreciativeaudience.”
Ifeltmyselfslowlyslippingintoaplaceofcomfort,ofsafety.Iletmyselfbelieve,alittlebiteachday,thatthismanwouldnothurtme,thathewould,infact,bethereformeanytimeIneededhim.
AndinlettingBingin,Ifoundeveryoneelseslippingthroughaswell.MarieClaude,inahazeofherown,filedfordivorce.Sinceshehadnotbeenmarriedinachurch,itwasasimplecivilaffair,morepaperworkthananythingelse
ClaudineandIbecamecloser.Shehadneverbeenonetoholdback,butnowwewereevenmorerelaxedaroundeachother.SheknewaboutBingandme.Ofcourseshedid.AndwhenIaskedifsheminded,sherolledhereyes.
“Oh,Lucy,Iwillnevergetoverhim.Bingwillalwaysbethemanwhosavedmyhotelbygivingmeason.Andhewasalsothemanwhosavedmefrommymarriage.Butthatwaslongago.Iamhappyforyouboth.Now,maybeitwillbemyturn?”
“Savedyoufromyourmarriage?”
Shemadeaface.“WhenIfirstmarried,Ithoughteverycouplewasthesame.Thatallmentreatedwomenthesameway.AndthenImetBing,andhetreatedmecompletelydifferently.”Shesettledinherchair.“Everyyearformybirthday,Hubertwouldthrowanelaborateparty,inviteallhisfriendsandfamily,andattheveryend,hewouldpresentmewithaveryexpensivegift.Hewouldalwayssaythesamething.‘Claudine,’hewouldsay,‘youarewortheverypennyforputtingupwithmeallyearlong.’Well,afteroneyearwithBing,Ilookedathimandsaid,‘Thankyou,butmaybenextyear,skipthegiftandjustnotbesuchanasshole.’”
Iburstoutlaughing.“Youdidn’t!”
Sheshrugged.“Yes,Idid.It’sfunnyhowyoucanbegoingalong,perfectlycontent,thinkingthatthisiswhatyourlifeissupposedtobe,andthensuddenly,someonecomesaroundthatmakesyoulookinanotherdirection.Suddenly,everythingisnew.BecauseofBing,IknewIwouldneversettleformundaneagain.”
Thatwashappeningtome.IbegantolookpastwhatIthoughtIknewastrue,andthepossibilitieswereendless.
Iwashappy.Ihadeverybitofconfidenceback.Theworldwassuddenlyperfect.
Untilitwasn’t.
Untilmyfathercalledme,earlyonemorning,totellmethatJoeyhadbeendrivingdrunk,spedheadlongintoatree,andhadbeenkilled.
IhadsteppedawayfromBing’sbedtotakethecallandnowstood,cellphoneinhand,staringoutthebroadexpanseofwindowsintothemorninglight.
“Lucia?”Bingcalled,hisvoicethickwithsleep.
“Joey’sdead,”Icroaked.Iclearedmythroatandsaiditlouder.“Joeyisdead.”
IheardthebedcreakandsecondslaterfeltBing’sarmsaroundme,leadingmeawayfromthewindowsandbacktotheedgeofthebed.Hepeeredintomyface,hishandsholdingmine.
“Whathappened?”Hisvoicewasquiet.
“Caraccident.”
“Hisgirls?”
Ishookmyhead.“Notinthecar.”
Heexhaled.“ThankGod.Iwillfindaflightforyou.Newark?”
Ishookmyhead,stilltryingtoprocessthewordsI’djustheard,mymother’svoicecrackedandshrill.“Thequickest.”
“Ofcourse.”
Hewaswatchingme,waiting,Iknew,forsomereactionbesideablank,unfocusedstare,butthatwaswhatIfelt:unmoved,withoutasingle,coherentthought.
Then…“I’mtheirguardian.”
“What?”
“Thegirls.Joeymademetheirlegalguardianafterhiswifedied.They’reminenow.”
“Howlucky,”hesaidsoftly,“youwillbetohavethem.”
Imethiseyesandnodded.“Yes.We’llhaveeachother.”
“LetmetellClaudine,”hesaid.
Inodded.“Yes.”
“Andthenwe’llfindaflight.RennestoParistoNewYork.”
Inoddedagain.“Yes.”
Hestillwaited,croucheddowninfrontofme,watchingmyface.
“Youcango,”Ifinallysaid.“I’mnotgoingtocry.”
Hetookadeepbreath,stood,andmovedaway.
No,Iwasnotgoingtocry.
Notthen,anyway.
IarrivedattheNewarkairportandwalkedthroughtheendlesslinesinadaze.Ihadn’tsleptandspenttheentireplaneridewithmyjawclenchedandanacheinmychesttokeepfromcrying.Ifinallysaw,rightbesidetheluggageclaimareaformyflight,Julia,lookingcalmandsteadyinalongblackleathertrenchcoat.Shecrossedthehardtilefloorinaheartbeat,sweepingmeintoherarms.ThenIletthetearscome.
Imanagedtopullmyselftogetherquickly.“I’mgettingtearsandsnotalloveryourcoat,”Imuttered.
“Yes,well,Icanalwaysgetanother.Dowehavetowaitforyoursuitcase?”
Ishookmyhead.
“Smartgirl.I’llgetthecar.”Shetookoutherphone,sentabrieftext,thenwalkedthroughthebanksofglassdoorsandstoodinthecoldautumnair.
“Ispoketoyourmotherthismorning,”Juliasaid,hervoicedry.“Sophiasoundedfine,butsaidyourdadisnottakingthiswell.”
“Dadisafixer,”Isaid.“Heprobablycan’tbelievehecouldn’tfixhisson.”
“ShealsosaidthatFrankwastakingchargeofthings.”Herarm,higharoundmyshoulders,tightened.“Ishestilladouchebag?”
Inoddedandsniffed.“Yes.IguessIshouldbegratefulthathe’sfinallysteppingup.HeignoredJoeandallhisproblemsforyears.”
“It’seasytobegracioustothedead,”Juliasaid.
AsleekblackMercedespulleduptothecurb,andthetrunkpoppedopenasayoungmaninadarksuitjumpedout.Heopenedthedoorforus,threwmycarry-onintothetrunk,andwasbackanddrivingthecarawayfromthecurbbeforeIhadmyseatbeltfastened.Theinteriorofthecarwasquietluxury,andIletmyheadfallagainsttheseatback.
“Thankyouagainforpickingmeup,”Isaid.
Shehadherphoneout,checkingsomething,butshesliditbackintoherpurse.“Don’tbesilly.Icouldn’tletyougetoffaseven-hourflightandthenclimbintosomeUber.Besides,Douglasinsisted.Youknowhowmuchhelikesyou.”
“That’sbecauseI’mtheonlyoneofyourfriendswhoknewyouwaybackwhenanddoesn’tholditagainstyourcurrentstatusasqueenoftheroost.”
Shecrackedasmile.“You’rerightthere.Youhavealwayskeptmysecrets.”Sheglancedatme.“Haveyoutalkedtothegirls?”
“Justforaminute.Mimijustcried.CarawantedtomakesureIwascoming.”Mythroatfilledupagain.
Shegrabbedbothofmyhandsandtuggedatthem.Ilookedather,andhereyeswerebigandveryserious.
“Thisisgoingtobeharderthanyouthink,Lucy.Youaretheonewhowasnamedtocareforthosetwo,buteveryonewillsecond-guesseverydecisionyou’regoingtomake.”
Itookadeepbreath.“Iknow.”
“Youlostalotofconfidenceinyourself.Iknowthat.ButseeingyouinRennes,Ithinkyougotsomeofitback.You’regoingtoneedtotrustyourinstinctsagain,Luce.Youknowwhat’sbest.Youmustbelievethat.Notjustforthembutforyou.”Shesqueezedmyhandsagain.“You’regoingtohavetobethattough-as-nails,take-no-prisonersLucythatonceownedtheworld.Familiesareimpossibletodealwithinthebestofcircumstances.Youhavetodecidewhatyouwanttodoandthenstandbyit,nomatterwhat.”
Iwasnodding.“Iknow.MomandDadaregoingtowantmetostaywiththem.Like,fortherestofmylife.”
“Andhowdoyoufeelaboutthat?”
Iclosedmyeyesandthoughtaboutthehotel,theworkthere,thesuccessIhadmadefromnothing.IthoughtaboutMarieClaudeandPhilippe,sittingoneithersideofmeinonecaféoranother,laughingandplanningandaskingmyadvice.IthoughtaboutClaudineandthetrustshehadplacedinmewithherfamily’slegacy.IsawKarl’sface,patientlyexplainingthedifferentgrapevarietals.AndBing.Somethingnewcaughtinmythroat.Bing,whohadoncechallengedmyeverymove,butwhohadbecomemychampion.
“Ihaveanotherlife,”Isaidquietly.“IhavealifethatIlove.”
“Thenholdtothat,Lucy,”Juliasaid.“Don’tletanyonemakeyouforgetthatlifeandhowyoufeelaboutrightnow,atthismoment.Promiseme?”
Iopenedmyeyesandstaredoutofthedarkenedwindow.ThelightsofthecarsonRoute78blurredanddimmed.“MomandDadhaveapoint.Thisiswhattheyknow.Thisiswhatthegirlsareusedto.HowcanItakethemawayfromtheirhome?”
“Theirhomewasneverwithyourparents.ItwasneverwithJoe,either.Hemoved,what,threetimesafterSaradied?Fourtimes?Hewentinandoutofrehab,leavingthemtobouncebetweengrandparents.Thelasthomethosegirlsknewwaswithbothoftheirparents,andthatwasyearsago.”
“Thisisimpossible,Jules,”Imoaned
“No.Itisn’t.It’seasy,whenyouthinkaboutit.MimiandCarahavebeenwaitingforsomething,orsomeone,tosavethem.That’syou.They’llgoanywherewithyou.Youknowit.”
“Joeytried,”Isaid,myvoicebreaking.
Shedroppedmyhandstoputbotharmsaroundme.“Iknowhedid,Luce.Hewascrazyabouthisdaughters.Anyonecouldseethat.Hell,evenIcouldseeit,andI’mthebiggestcynicintheworld.”
Wesattogetherinthebackseatofherquietcar,andIranthrougheverysinglescenarioinmyhead.HavingJuliarighttherebesidemegavemeacertaincourage,butIknewthattheweightoffamilywasgoingtocomecrashingdownonme,theyearsofguilt,theyearsofunhappiness,themillionlittlepinpricksofhurt.
“Youdowhat’sbestforyou,”Juliawhispered.“Becauseifyouarehavingahappyandsatisfyinglife,thenCaraandMimiwillhavethesame.Ifyoufeeltrappedorunhappy,theywillknow.Andtheywillblamethemselves.”
“Thanks,”Isaidwryly.“SomethingelseIhadn’tthoughtof.”
Shesniffed.“Well,ifyourbestfriendcan’traindownmoresmokeandashesonyourworstday,whocan?”Shelookedover.“Iwillbehappytostayrightbyyourside.Foraslongasittakes.YouknowthatIhavenothingelsetodowithmylife.”
“Nonsense,”Isaid.“Youhavetwosons,bothofwhomneedconstantsupervision,despitetheirsupposedelevationtoadulthood.Youhaveaverygoodjobwherepeoplerelyonyouforeverylittlething.Remember,I’veseenyouatwork.Andyouhaveaverylovinghusbandwhohasallthepatienceintheworld,butreallyjustwantsyoutheretocatertohiseverywhim.”
“Isupposewhenyoulayitalloutlikethat,I’mthemosttalentedmultitaskerinthefiveboroughs.ButIwillbehappytoremainatyourside.Nomatterwhat.”
Thecarslowedtoahalt.Thelightsofmyparents’neatlittlehouseshonethroughthefrontwindows.
“What,theydidn’tevenleavethefrontporchlighton?”Juliamuttered.
Igotoutofthecarandtookmysmallbagfromthesilentdriver.IpeeredintothecaratJulia.“Imaysendupaflare.”
“I’llbeready.Iloveyou,Luce.”
“ThankGod.Iloveyou,too,Jules.”
Ishutthecardoor,squaredmyshoulders,andwalkedupthefourstepsandintomyparents’house.ChapterSixteen
Theservicewasshortandsimple.Iwassurprisedatthenumberofpeoplewhohadcometopaytheirrespects,butthensawthatmostofthemwerefromtheneighborhood,thereforSophiaandBruno,becausenoparentshouldeverhavetoburyachild.NoonecameuptosaytheyknewJoefromwork,orfromameeting,orfromthegirls’school.Mybrotherhadbeenacharming,gregariousyoungman,butalcoholandgriefhadmadehimclosedandisolatedandwithoutfriends.Hisfamilymournedhim.Therestoftheworldbarelyblinked.
Atthehouse,surroundedbymurmuringneighborsandsecondcousins,Franksuddenlybecamethelovingbrotherrackedwithsorrow,acceptingthehandshakesandhugsfromwhoevercamewithintouchingdistance.IsatwithMimiandCara,bothquietintheirdarkbluedresses,lookingaroundwithred-rimmedeyes.Ifinallywhisperedthattheycouldgobackuptotheirroom,theroomthathadbeentheirssincethedeathoftheirmother,theoneroomthathadremainedunchangedforthem.Theyfledsilentlyupthestairs.
Myothertwonieces,Heatherandheryoungersister,Brianne,slippedinoneitherside.
Heatherputherarmsaroundme.“Thisisjustawful,”shewhispered.“Whatareyougoingtodo?”
Ileanedagainsther.“Ihavenoidea.”
“AreyougoingtoFloridawithNanaandPopPop?”Brianneasked.
Ilookedather.“What?”
Heatherglancedaround.“Didn’ttheytellyou?TheyboughtacondoinClearwater.They’removingassoonastheycangetabuyerforthehouse.”
Ishookmyheadslowly.“Noidea.”
Heatherrolledhereyes.“IheardMomsayingthatyoushouldbuythishousesothetwinscanhavesomecontinuity.AndyouknowMom,she’sallaboutshowingherdeepconcernaslongasitdoesn’tinconvenienceher.”
Ieyedmyniece.“Heather,that’snotaverynicethingtosayaboutyourmother.”
Briannesnorted.“Haveyoumetourmother?”
Ichokedbackalaugh.“Thisisallnewstome.Theyalreadyboughtaplace?”
Heathernodded.“Momconvincedthemthebestthingtodowouldbetotellyouonceitwasalladonedeal:theclosingdowninFlorida,sellingthisplace.ThenwhenUncleJoeydied,shedecidedyouneededtostayhereandcareforthegirls.”
“Oh.Isee.AnddidshehaveanyideahowIwasgoingtolivehere?Withoutajobandall?”
Briannetrackedhermotherontheothersideoftheroom.“YouknowMomisn’taboutthedetails.”
“Andyet,noonehassaidawordtomeaboutanyofthis,”Isaid.“Howinteresting.”
Heathersighed.“Daddydidn’tthinkitwassuchagoodidea,butyouknow.”
Yes,Ididknow.MybrotherFrankhadlongagocededanyandallauthoritytohiswife,Elena,makingiteasyforhimtoshuffleoffblameorguilt.
Vivianmadeabriefappearance.Shehadnotbeenatthefuneralparlorfortheservice,noratthecemetery.Shejustappearedinmymother’skitchen,carryingatrayofchocolatechipcookies,sayinghowsorryshewas.Shedidnotaskabouthergranddaughters.Ispoketoherbriefly;shewasgoingbacktoCalifornia,shesaid.Tolivewithhersister.
Wedidnotkissgoodbye.
Thenthehousewasempty.Someunseenandunheardsignalhadsweptthroughthemourners,andtheyslippedawayinaslowstreamofblack-clothedgoodwishes.IstoodinthediningroomandwatchedasElenaandMomclearedhalf-emptyplatesoffthetable.
“Mom?”Iasked.“ThismovetoFlorida.Whenexactlywereyougoingtotellme?”
Elenaputdownabowlofpastasalad.“Lucy,yourmother—”
“Youknowwhat,Elena?ThisisaconversationI’mhavingwithMom,notyou,”Isaid,veryquietly.“Whydon’tyougiveussomeprivacy?”
HeatherandBriannehadbeenloadingthedishwasherinthekitchen,andatthesoundofmywords,thefaintclatterstopped.Frank,sittinginthelivingroomwithDad,roseslowly.Isawhimoutofthecornerofmyeyeasheapproached.
“Youknow,Lucy,Elenaonly—”hebegan.
“Idon’tcarewhatElenaonly,”Isaid.“Dad,”Icalled,“wereyouinonthis?”
Heshuffledin,hisfacedrawnandweary.“Please,Lucy,Elenajust—”
“I’mtiredofElena.IwanttoknowwhyyouandMomdidn’ttellmeyouwereplanningtomove.Ionlyspokewithyoueveryweek.”
MomglancedatElenaandgaveaslightshakeofherhead.“Lucy,honey,”shesaid,“wedidn’twanttogiveyouanythingelsetoworryabout.”
“WhatwasIworriedabout,Mom?Iwassuccessful,doinggoodwork,makingmoney.Wherewastheworry?”
Shetriedadifferenttack.“Wedidn’twantyoutothinkyouhadtoleaveFranceandcomeallthewayovertohelpuswithanything.”
“Whywouldyouneedmyhelp?Youboughtaplacewithoutmyhelp;youwouldeasilylistthehouseandsellitquickly.TheonlythingIcouldpossiblyhelpyouwithwaswhattogetridofinmyoldbedroom.”
“Itdoesn’tmatternow,”Dadsaidquietly.“Wehaven’tlistedthehouse,andElenathinksyoushouldkeepit.Letthegirlslivesomeplacethatfeelslikehometothem.Wewouldjustselltoyou.Elena,well,itwasheridea,butyourmotherandIthinkitcouldwork.”
Ipulledoutadiningroomchairandsankintoit,restingmyelbowsofthetable,mychinonclenchedfists.“JoeydiedonTuesday.Iflewovertheverynextday.Andnowit’sFriday.WhendidElenatellyouthisgreatideaofhers?Andwhywasn’tIinontheconversation?Afterall,Iwasrighthere.”Itookadeepbreath.“Idon’thaveanymoneysaved.HowwasIgoingtobuythishouse?Idon’thaveajobinthiscountry.HowwasIgoingtolive?Didyouevenaskthegirlswhattheywanted?Doyouthinktheywanttoliveinthiscrumblinghouse,surroundedbyoldpeopleandnarrowstreetsandcrappyschools?”IstaredatElena.“Well?”
Shelookeduncomfortable.“Joeymadeyoutheguardian,butIdon’tthinkhethoughtaboutwhatmighthappenafteryouleftforFrance.So,itwasuptoustofigureoutwhatwasbestforCaraandMimi.”
“No,Elena.Itwasnotuptoyou.Itwasneveruptoyou.It’suptome.”Itookadeepbreath,myeyesneverleavingherface.“You’vebeenleadingmybrotheraroundbyhisballsforyearsnow,Elena.Youmakeeverydecisionforhim,soIgetit.Ireallydo.ButIcan’timaginewhyyouthoughtmyparentsweregoingtobesoeasilyled.Orme.”
IcouldfeelFrankbehindme,shufflinghisfeet.“Don’ttalktoherthatway,Lucy.Youhavenorighttosayanythinglikethat.”
Istood.“Yes,Ido,Frank.Becauseit’sthetruth.”Ilookedatmyfather.“Tellme,Dad.Didyouwanttomove?”
Heshrugged.“I’mgettingold,honey.Ihatethecold.Ihateshovelingsnow.Itmadesense.Andyourmother,well,wehavefriendsdownthere,fromthechurch.Shemissesherbingonights.Andhercardparties.”
Inodded.“Thatmakessense.Okay,sogotoFlorida.Bewarm,Daddy.”Ifeltahitchinmythroat.“It’sjustaseasytoflyfromFrancetoMiamiasitistoflyfromFrancetoNewark.”
“Whatdoyoumean,France?”Elenaasked.“Youwouldn’ttakethegirlsallthewaytoFrance,wouldyou?”
Isighed.Iwassotired.“Ineedtogoupstairs.I’mstillfeelingalittlejet-lagged,andIneedtosortthingsout.”Istoodandwalkedawayquietly,upthesteps,andturneddownthehallwaytowardmyoldroom.
Ipassedthebedroomthatmytwobrothershadsharedaskids.MimiandCarawereinthere,huddledtogetherononeofthetwinbeds,watchingsomethingonasmalltablet.Iwentinandsatatthefootofthebed.
“Thiswasasadday,girls.Howareyoudoing?”
Caraimmediatelystartedtocryandcreptacrossthebedandintomyarms.Mimistared,dry-eyed.“Wherearewegoingtolivenow?”
“Withme,”Isaid,strokingCara’shead.“YouknowthatyourauntElenawantsmetobuythishouse,sowecanalllivehere.Howdoyoufeelaboutthat?”
Cara,herfaceinthecrookofmyneck,shookherhead.“Thisisasadhouse,AuntLucy.”
Shewasright.Thiswasahousethatpeopleleftassoonastheycouldanddidnotreturnunlesssomethingbadhappened.Likeayoungmotherslowlydying.Likelosingajobandbeingthreatenedwithprison.Beingsoblinddrunkthatdayswereforgotten,orgoingbackintorehab,orwaitingtofindanotherapartmentbecauseyouwereevictedfromthelastone.
IheldCaraforafewmoreminutes,rockinghergently,untilshepulledawayandedgedbacknexttohersister.“I’mgladwe’regoingtolivewithyouinsteadofAuntElena,”shewhispered.
Ihadtosmile.“Me,too.I’llberightnextdoorifyouneedme,okay?Areyouhungry?”
Theybothshooktheirheads.
“Okay,then,youjustgotosleepwhenyouwantto,andI’llseeyouinthemorning.Okay?”
Ileftthemandcontinueddownthehalltomyownoldroom.
IhadleftmycellphoneonthedresserwhenIleftfortheserviceandsawIhadthreevoicemessages.ThefirstwasfromJulia.Shehadbeentotheservicebuthadnotcomebacktothehouse.Hermessagewasbrief,justsayingshewasthinkingofmeandtocallifIneededanything.
ThesecondwasfromBing.IwantedtowaituntilI’dchangedandgottensafeandcomfortableinbedbeforecallinghimback.
Thethirdcallwasashocker.
“Hello?IsthisLucyGianetti?ThisisFredPaloma.”
Istaredatthephone.FredPalomawastheregionalmanagerforCarltonEnterprises,oneofthebiggesthotelchainsontheEastCoast.
“Anyway,”hecontinued,“IheardallaboutTonybeingtakenintocustody.Iheardhegotyouoffthehook.Ialwaysbelievedyouwereinnocent,but,well,youknow.”
Ididknow.Iftherewasthetiniestsliverofscandalhangingovermyhead,Iwasapariah.
“So,anyway,we’relookingatourNewarkairportpropertyandwantingtomakeachange.Abigchange.Andwethinkyou’rethepersontodoit.Idon’tknowaboutthiscrazytimething—you’reinEurope,right?Butcallme.Wecouldtalk.”
Istaredatthephone.
TheNewarkairportproperty?Closetothreehundredrooms,Iknew.
Abigchange?Thatusuallymeantrenovations,newpersonnel,achangeinservices.
TheythoughtIwastherightpersontodoit?
Iwastheperfectperson.Andwhatwouldajoblikethatpay?Somuchmoney…
Istaredoutthewindowintothegrowingdarkness.Acrossthehighway,Icouldseetheairport,thelightsofthetowersblinking,andheardthefaintroarofaplane’senginesasitcircledtoland.
Ishutthephoneoffandlaydownandwasasleepinminutes.
“Lucia,”Bingsaidgently.“Howdideverythinggo?”
Inthemorning,thesunwasshining,andFrankandElenaweregone.Cara,Mimi,andItookmydad’sSubarutotheIHOP,loadeduponpancakesandbacon,thenwentouttotheirfavoritepark.Iwashuddledonabench,watchingthemclimbafantasystructureofturretsandwavingflags.
“Itwasfine,”Itoldhim.“Awful.Imean,youknow.”
“Wemissyou,”hesaid.“ButIknowyouhavealottosquareupoverthere.”
“YouknowthatJoeynamedmetheguardian.Forthetwins.”
Therewasalongsilence.“Yes,andthatcertainlycomplicatesthings,”hesaidatlast.“Iimaginetheywouldwanttostayclosetowhattheyknow.Yourparents.Theirothergrandmother.”
“MyparentsaremovingtoFlorida,”Isaid.“AndVivianismovingtoCalifornia.AndsinceIamapparentlynolongerpersonanongratainthehotelworld,someonereachedouttomeaboutaproperty.”
“There?”
“AbouthalfanhourfromwhereI’msittingrightnow.”
Silence.Then,“Iimagineit’satemptingoffer?”
“Ihaven’tcalledback,butit’sahugeproperty.Theyprobablywantasoup-to-nutschange:rooms,services,everything.”
Icouldhearhimletoutalongbreath.“Well,Icouldcertainlyunderstandwhyyou’dwanttotakeonaprojectlikethat.”
Igrippedthephonetighter.Please,Ithought,givemeareasontosayno.Anyreason,really,buttellmethatyou’dmissme.Tellmethatyoudon’twantmeacrossawideocean.TellmeyouwantmebackinFrance.Ifyoucareevenalittlebit…
“IsupposeIcouldalwaysmoveback,”hesaid.
Wait.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“TotheStates.MaybeaplaceinConnecticut?No,you’reinJersey,so…well,arethereplacesinNewJerseywithrollinghills?IfIdidmove,I’dneedabigbarnorsomethingasastudio.Idon’tthinkI’dwanttobeinacity;itwouldneverbethesameaslivinghere.”
“Bing,whatareyoutalkingabout?”Iaskedhim,totallyconfused.
“Well,Idon’tthinkI’dwantalong-distancerelationship.Wouldyou?”
Somethingswelledinsideme,lovelyandachingandunfamiliar.“No,”Icroaked,thenlouder.“No.You’dleaveRennes?Youloveitthere.”
“Somethinghaschangedinthepastweek.Iloveitalittleless.I’dmuchratherbewithyou.”
“Oh,”Ibreathed.
“Whatdidyouthink?”heasked,hisvoicerough.“Let’sfaceit,thesexisnice.Butit’snotthereasonIwanttobewithyou,Lucia.IthinkI’mfallinginlove.AndIcertainlywantthechancetofindoutifit’sreal.Ican’tdothatifyou’reallthewayoverthereandI’mhere.So,maybeyoucouldfindalittlebitofcountryside?”
“WhataboutPhilippe?”
“Whatabouthim?”
“He’sfinallysettledintothehotel.He’snottravelingallovertheworldanymore.”
“Andit’sagoodthing,becauseClaudineisalreadyworriedthatyou’renotcomingback.Infact,I’vehadtoconvincehernottocallyoueverydaysinceyouleft.Atleastwithhimthere,shewon’tgettoocrazy.”
“Ifyouleave,shewill.”
Helaughed.“Yes.Thatmayverywellbetrue.Butshe’dgetoverit.”Hewasquiet.“Idon’tthinkI’dgetoveryou.”
Istaredatthetwins,runningandshoutingnow,chasingeachotheraroundtheswings.“Ihaven’teventalkedtohim.Fred.Aboutthejob.”
“Well,letmeknowwhathesays.Iknowwhatitwouldmeantoyou,tobebackinthehighlife,sotospeak.Callmeassoonasyou’vesaidyes.Ihavealotofpackinguptodo.”
“Okay.Iwill.AssoonasIdecide.”
Helaughed.“Whatdoyoumean,decide?They’dbeidiotsnottoofferittoyou.Andyou’dbeperfectforthejob.Goodbye,Lucia.”
“Goodbye,”Isaidfaintlyandhungup
Bingthoughthewasinlovewithme.
Iwatchedthegirls,ontheswingsnow.
HethoughtI’dbeperfectforthejob.
Hewasright,ofcourse.Know-it-all.Iftheydidoffermeaprojectlikethat,Icouldgrabitinmyteethandrunwithit.
Whichmeantlongdaysandnightsinanofficesomewhere.WouldIhaveasuiteon-site?So,CaraandMimiwouldbelivinginahotel?InthemiddleoftheNewarkairport?WerethereswingsintheNewarkairport?
IrememberedJulia,inthebackseatofhercar,drivingfromtheairport.ShesaidifIhadahappylife,thenthegirlswould,too.WouldIhaveahappylife,neckdeepinturningaroundahotelthatwouldrequiremostofmytimeandenergyforyears?Maybeonce,yes.ButIwasoldernow,andIhadstartedtorealizethattimeandenergycouldbespentonotherthings.Longwalksdownquietstreets.Trainridestoapiratehideaway.Mealslastingintothenightwithgoodfoodandlaughter.Workingeverydaysurroundedbypeoplewhovaluedme.Lookeduptomeforguidance.
Lovedme.
IcalledClaudine.“Ihaveaquestion,”Isaid.
“Theanswerisyes,”shesaid.
Ichokedonalaugh.“Youdon’tevenknowwhatitis.”
“Ifitisanyconditionyouhavethatwillmeanyou’llbecomingback,theanswerisyes.Weneedyouback.”
“No,youdon’t.”
“Allright.Iwantyouback.”
Itookabreath.“I’mthelegalguardianofmytwonieces.IfIcomeback,they’dhavetocomewithme.Livewithme.Atthehotel.Iknowthatyouhaven’texactlyembracedtheideaofkidsatyourhotel.Wouldthatbeaproblem?”
“Idon’tliketheideaofstrangekidsatmyhotel,”shesaid.Therewasalongsilence,thenasweet,clearlaugh.“Buttwingirls?I’dfinallyhavelittlegirls?ThatIcoulddressupandhaveteawith?ThatIcouldtaketodancinglessons?”
IwatchedasCarahung,upsidedown,fromherknees.“Tobehonest,thesetwolikeskateboardsandarchery.”
“Icanworkwiththat.”Shewasquiet.“Youbelongherenow,Lucy.So,ofcourseyoumaybringthoselittleangels.Wewillallwelcomethem.”
Ihungupthephone,feelingsomanythingsatonceIwassureIwasgoingtoburstwideopen.Iwavedmyarmsandyelled.Thegirlscamerunningover,pantinglikelittlepuppies,sweatyandred-faced.
Iwrappedmyarmsaroundthebothofthemandheldthemclose.“HowwouldyoutwofeelaboutmovingtoFrance?”ChapterSeventeen
Thegirlsslepttheirwaythroughtheentireflight,forwhichIwasgrateful.ButIalsoknewtheywouldwakeuphungry,grumpy,and,inMimi’scase,complainingabouteverything.Theywerenotmorningpeople,thesetwo,andeventhoughParistimewaspastnoon,theirmorningunpleasantnesswouldnotbeavoided.IspentthelasthouroftheflightrunningovervariousscenariosastohowIwasgoingtogetthemsomefood,wrangletheluggage,makeitdowntothemetro,thenoutintothevast,loud,confusingtrainstationwhiletryingtofindthefasttraintoRennes,thenprobablymorefood…
Whenwelanded,Ifelthopelesslyoverwhelmedandjustwantedtocry.
Wetrundledofftheplaneandthroughendlesscorridors,pastgatesandbarriers,askingandansweringquestions,untilIfinallyhadthemgoinguptheescalatortotheluggageclaim.Onehurdledown,Ithought,fiftymoretogo.AndthenIsaw,leaningagainstasmoothtiledpillar,armsfoldedacrosshischest—
“Bing,”Iwhispered.
Hestraightenedwhenhesawus,andhereadjustedthelongstrapofhissatchelandbegantowalktowardus.Ihadslowed,andfeltCara’simpatienttugonmyhand,thenshefollowedmygaze.
“Whoisthat?”sheasked.
Hestoppedinfrontofusandsquatteddown.“IknowoneofyouisCara,andoneofyouisMimi,”hesaidslowly.“ButhowintheworldcanItellwhichoneofyouiswhich?”
Mimisteppeduptothechallenge.“I’malmostaninchtaller,andIhavepiercedears.Caradidn’twantpiercedearsbecauseshewasafraidtheywouldhurt.”
“Ah.”Bingsaid,nodding.“Well,that’saveryeasydistinctiontomake,thankyouverymuch.Anddidthey?Hurt?”
Sheshookherheadvigorously.“No.Well,atfirst,butnotanymore.I’mMimi.”
Heheldoutahand,andsheshookit.“I’mBing.”
Caragasped.“You’reBingDavis?Thewriter?BoodilyandFlap?”
Heheldouthishandtoher,andshegrabbedittightly.“Thesame.Ihearyoutwoyoungladieshavereadmybooks?”
Caragushed,hercrankywhinegone.“Wehaveallofthem.Well,wedid.Wehadtoleaveallourbookshomebecausetheyweretooheavy,butweloveyourbooks.”
Hestraightened.“Gladtohearit.It’salwaysapleasuretomeetafan.Andasforbooks,well,Ihaveextracopieslyingaround.Youcanreadthemwheneveryoulike.Howdoesthatsound?”
Mimiglaredupatmeaccusingly.“Youtoldusyouknewhim,”shesaid.“Youdidn’ttellusyouwerefriends.”
Imethiseyes.AllIcoulddowasnod.HereachedintohissatchelandhandedCaraabrownbag.“Ihavesomeveryspecialdoughnutsinthereforyou,justincaseyou’rehungry.YoucansitonthatbenchrightovertherewhileIsayhellotoyouraunt.”
Mimigrabbedthebag,andtheyscamperedoff.Hewatchedthemastheysat,thenheturnedtomeandopenedhisarms.
Ifellintothemasfallingintoaquiet,safeharbor.MyarmswentaroundhimandIburiedmyfaceintothecrookofhisshoulder,andhejustheldme,hishandssoftinmyhair,hislipsagainstmycheek.
“Thankyou,”Imanagedatlast.“Thankyou.Ihavebeendreadingthis,tryingtogettheluggageandthenthemetroandthetrain…”Myvoicecaught,andIgulped.“IwassoafraidI’djustlosetheminthedepthsofParis,andI’dneverseethemagain.”
Hebrushedafewtearsawaywitharoughthumb.“Nonsense.Infact,theonlyreasonI’mhereatallisbecauseIhadtobeinParisyesterdayandthoughtI’dmeetyou,youknow,justincase.You’dhavefigureditallout,Lucia.Don’tyoualways?”
Ifoughtasmile.“AndwhathassuddenlyconvincedyouIwascapableofhandlinganysituationmorecomplicatedthanmakingtoast?”
Hetiltedhisheadatme.“Andwhenhaveyouevenconsideredthankingmeforanythingotherthanadecentrollinthehay?”
Ilaughedoutloudthen,andthegirlslookedupfromtheirseriouseatingtosmileatme.
Wecollectedluggage.Thegirlswerefascinatedbythemetro.
“Soclean,”Mimiwhisperedinawe.Atthetrainstation,Bingwrangledmorefood,thistimesandwichesandfrenchfries.
“BetterthanMcDonald’s,”Caradeclared.Whilewewaited,BingreachedintohissatchelandpulledoutatabletandbeganshowingthegirlsthenewsketchesforMarnieandPug.
“They’reasecret,”hesaidinahushedvoice.“Youmustswearnevertotellanyoneyousawthem.”
Thegirlscrossedtheirheartrepeatedly,obviouslythrilledtobeincludedinsuchavastconspiracyofsilence.
Theysattogetheronthetrain,quieternow,andBingheldmyhandwhileItoldhimwhathadhappened.Hedidn’tsayanything,justwatchedmeandnoddedafewtimes.AndwhenIwasdone,heletoutalong,slowbreath.
“Youareapersonofcourage,Lucia.Theirfathermadetherightchoice.Andsodidyou.Bringingthemhereisbestforusall.AndcanItellyou,theentirehoteliswaitingforthem.”
Iexhaledslowly.“It’sgoingtobetoughgoingforawhile.Idon’tknowwhatthesleepingarrangementsaregoingtobe.We’regoingtobeawfullycrowded.”
Hechuckled.“Notreally.PhilippeandMarieClaudedecidedtotakeovertheextraroomsintheattic.Andsincethatmeanttheappartementnexttoyourswasempty,Raoulbrokethroughthewall.Sonowyouhave—howcanIputthis?Aduplex?Thegirlshavetheirownspace,withabedroomandbathandsittingroom,andyoucanpulloutyourkitchen,ifyou’dlike,andputabitofanofficespacebackthere.MarieClaudeandEliothadaverynicekitchenfittedinjustlastyear.Wealreadyhavetwobeds,andalongtableandsomechairs,andadresserforeachofthegirls—wait,please,you’renotcryingagain,areyou?”
Georgesmetusatthestation,frownedatalltheluggage,andbegantogrumble,butCaratookonepeekinsidetheVolvoandturnedtohimwithanexcitedgrin.
“Yourcarisbeautiful,”shesaid.
Georgesfroze,thenasmilecreptoverhisface.“Hisname,”hetoldherslowly,“isMarcel.”
Miminoddedherapproval.“Thatisagreatnameforacar,”shesaid.“Mydaddy’scarwasnamedLeon.”
“Thatisalsoagreatname,”Georgessaid.“ButnotasgoodasMarcel.”
Hedrovequickly,notthetouristroute,asitwasobviousthegirlswerefadingfast,butaswewentthroughPlaceSainte-Anne,bothgirlsgasped.“It’sprettierthanDisneyWorld,”Carasaid.Binglaughed.
Wewentthroughtheirongates,thelightsinthehotelgleaming,thebreezerustlingtheleaves,andthefadingsunlightcastingshadowsineverycornerofthecourtyard.Westumbledintomyappartandthroughthenewlyhewnarchway.
Thekitchenintheadjoiningflatwasindeedastepupfrommine.Therewasafull-sizerefrigerator,astovethatcouldfitmorethantwopots,andlotsofbuilt-incabinets.Alongtablehadbeensetbythewindow,withfourchairs.
CaraandMimiwentthroughthenextdoorway,andIheardthesqueals.IglancedatBing,whowasgrinning.
“Apparently,Veraalsoalwayswantedgirls,”hesaid.
Theroomwaspaintedthepalestofpinks,withtwinwhiteironbedsdrapedinsoftpinkquiltsandpiledhighwithpillows.Ruffleddrapeshungfromtheceilingovereachbed,creatingcanopiesanyprincesswouldenvy.Twowhitedresserswereadornedwithpaintedrosesandivy.Atallgold-framedmirrorworthyofCinderellaherselfwasproppednexttothebathroomdoor.
Caradumpedherlittlecarry-onwithaflourish.“Thisbedismine,”shedeclared.“DoIgetawholedressertomyself?”
Inodded,thenclearedmythroat.“Well,therearetwodressersthere,soIguessso.”Inoticedthattherewasanactualclosetbuiltinbythewindow,obviouslynewlyconstructed.
IglaredatBing.“Whydidn’tIgetarealcloset?”
Hewasstillgrinning,watchingthegirlswithobviousdelight.“Becauseyou’renotnineandadorable.”
Georgeshaddroppedalltheluggageoutsidethefrontdoor,andBingandIcarriedthemin.
“Girls,youcanunpacktomorrow.”Icouldfeelthelackofsleepcreepingin,andIknewitwouldhithardsoon.“Weallneedtosleep,andinthemorning,you’llgetabreakfastandatourandmeeteveryone.Howdoesthatsound?”
Mimicrinkledhernose.Iknewtheywerebothtiredandoverwhelmedbythewholetrip.Ialsoknewtheycoulddigintheirheelsandberoyalpains,anditlookedlikeMimiwasheadedinthatdirectionwhenIheardaquietthumpoflightfeetlandingonthestonefloor.
Napoléonstruttedin,tailhigh,earsperked,lookingtotallyincontrol.Hejumpeduponthedresserclosesttothedoor,sat,andobserved.
“ThisisNapoléonBonaparte,”Isaid.“Hesleepshere,buthe’snotmycat.Hebelongstoeveryone.Andifyouignorehimcompletely,hemayallowyoutopethim.”
Mimi’sfacechanged,andIwatchedasshefellinlove.“Okay,AuntLucy,”shewhispered.“Ifwegetinbedrightnow,doyouthinkhe’llsleepwithus?”
“Gee.”Isighed.“Idon’tknow.Butlet’sgiveitashot.”
Theywerewashedandinbedafewminuteslater.Napoléondidhispart,sittingpatientlyandwatching.AsIbackedoutoftheirroomandturnedoffthelight,heshotmealook,suggestingwhatamartyrmustdoforloveandcountry.
Binghadbeensittinginmylittlelivingroom,readingsomethingonhisphone.HelookedupwhenIfinallysatdownacrossfromhim.
“Claudinesaidtowaituntilthemorning,”hesaid.“Doyouwantmetostaytonight?”
Ishookmyhead.“No.Well.Yes,Ido,butchancesarethegirlswillwakeupatleastonce.Yourbeingherewouldonlyaddanotherlayerofstrangeness.”
“Ofcourse.”Hereachedoutahand,andIgrabbedit.“Youneedtotellmehowtodothis,”hesaidcarefully.“Wehadbarelyfiguredoutthetwoofus.Andnow,therearefourofus.”
“Yeah.Howaboutthat.”IwatchedhisfaceasIspoke.“Iknowthisissomuchmorethanyouevercouldhavebargainedfor.So,Iwillunderstandifyouwanttocreate,ah,alittledistance.”
Heshookhishead.“Iadmittobeingoldandoverbearing.I’mtryingveryhardtonotbesuchapompousknow-it-all.Iwillfailspectacularly,andoften,butIwillcontinuetotry.Ifyoucanputupwiththat,Icanmanageabeautiful,strongwomanandtwolittlegirls.”
“You’renotallthatpompous,”Imuttered.“Andsometimesyou’reveryonpoint.Itendtobeoversensitiveaboutcertainthings.”
Heraisedhiseyebrowsbutmanagedtokeepastraightface.“Really?”
Iswallowedhard.“Iloveyou,”Isaid,verysoftly.
“Ah,”hesaid,smilinggently.“Howlovely.BecauseIloveyou,too.Verymuch.”Heleanedoverandkissedmelightlyonthelips,thendrewback,eyesdancing.“Suchdeclarationsshouldbefollowedbyopeningfinewineandmakinglonganddeliciouslove.Sadly,wearebothtootired.”
Ifeltagigglerippleout.“Truethat.OneglassofwineandI’dbefastasleep.”
Hestood.“Wewillhavetofindaquietafternoon,sometimequitesoon,forustomarkthisoccasion.Afterall,itisn’toftentwopeoplesuchasuscanfindsomethingsojoyoustocelebrate.”
Heslippedout,andIpeeledoffmyclothesandcrawledintobed.Mimicriedoutonceinthenight,andasIwatchedher,shethrashedaboutforafewmoments,butdidn’twake.Carahadherfadedstuffedmonkeyclenchedinherlittlefist,andsheneverletgoevenasshestretchedandturned.Iwatchedthemforafewmoreminutes,thenwentbacktobed,andNapoléoncurledatmyfeetandwasthereinthemorning.
ItwascoolwhenIawoke,thekindofcoolthatwhisperedthatfallwascoming.ThegirlsandIcrossedthecourtyardandwentintothehotel.Celestinewasbehindthedeskonthephone,butshewavedandsmiledaswepassed.Inthesalon,therewereafewguestsbythewindow.Isteeredthegirlstowardthelongtable,andtheyeyedthefruitandpastries.
“Canwehaveanything?”Carawhispered.
“Yes,”Isaid.“AndthisisClaudine.Thisisherhotel.Claudine,thisisMimi,andthisisCara.”
Shehadahandfulofstarchedwhitenapkins,whichsheputdownonthetable.Shesmileddownatthem.“Welcometomyhotel,”shesaidinslowEnglish.“Idon’tspeakEnglishverywell,butI’lltryharder,andyouwilllearnFrench,andsoonwe’llbegoodfriends.Okay?”
Thegirlsnodded.
“Justsit,girls,”Itoldthem.“I’llbringoversomefruit.Andbreadandjam.Givemeaminute,okay?”
Theyfoundatableinthefarthestcorner.
Tomysurprise,Stavrospokedhisheadoutofthekitchen.“IcanmakethemanAmericanbreakfast,”hesaid.“Tosaywelcome.Eggsandbacon?”
Ifeltarushofgratitude.“Thatwouldbesolovely,thankyou.”
Henodded.“Andwafflesandhashbrowns?”
Ifoughtdownalaugh.“No,butthankyou.Justeggsandbacon.”
Hewithdrewtothekitchenwithagrin.
Claudinewatchedthegirls.“Theyarebeautiful,”shesaid.“Ihavefoundthemaschool.”
“Already?Ithought,well,Imean—”
“Iknowwhatyouthought,butyouknownothingaboutschoolshereinFrance.Youprobablyhaveyourownideasabouthowthegirlsshouldbetaught,buttrustmeonthisone.It’saveryprogressiveschoolwithchildrenfromallovertheworldattending.ThegirlswilllearnFrench,ofcourse,butwillnotbetaughtinFrench,sotheywillneverfeelleftbehind.”Sheshotmealook.“Iknowtheheadmaster.”
“Yes,I’msureyoudo,”Isaidwryly.“Isitclose?”
“Theycanwalk.Orrather,youcanwalkthem.”
“Thankyou.”
“I’llbringyousomecoffee.Orangejuiceforthegirls?”
Inoddedandshehurriedbackintothekitchen.
Isat.
“Shedoesn’tspeakEnglishverywell,doesshe?”Caraasked.
“She’sgettingbettereveryday.Shecanunderstand,butEnglishisaveryhardlanguagetolearn.”
Mimiwasnotconvinced.“ButeveryonespeaksEnglish.”
Ishookmyhead.“Nope.Sorry.”
“ArewegoingtohavetolearnFrench?”Caraasked.
“Yes.Youwon’thavetowaitformiddleschool,either.Don’tworry.Claudinehasfoundaschoolthatwecanwalktoeveryday.Youcanspendtheafternoonsrighthereinthehotel,ifyou’dlike,orbackintheappart.”
Claudinesetdownatraywithcafécrèmeandtwosmallglassesoforangejuice.Caralookedupandsaid,veryloudly,“Mercy.”
Claudinegrinned.“Verygood,”shesaid,thenbackedoff.
“What’sappart?”Mimiasked.
“Theapartment.Wherewelive.Overhere,it’scalledanappart.”
“That’sourhomenow?”Mimilookedup.“Theappart?”
Inodded.“Yes.It’snotverybig,Iknow,butyoutwoareusedtosharingaroom,andwehaveanicekitchenwhereIcancookdinnerandwecansittogethereverynight.”Asthewordsfelloutofmymouth,Itriednottocringe.Dinner?Everynight?Asin,mecookingit?ButthenIremembered.“OrBingcancookforus.He’samuchbettercookthanI.”
Caranarrowedhereyesatme.“Isheyourboyfriend?”
“Yes.”
Shemadeaface.“Areyouinlove?”
“Yes,”Isaidagain.
Mimilookedcompletelyataloss.“Butyousaidthatboyswerestupid.”
“Yes,theyare.Butmenaren’t.Notsomemen,anyway.”
Atthatmoment,Stavroshurriedtothetable,aplateineachhand,andhesetthemdownwithaflourish.
“Welcome,ladies.Ihavemadethisveryspecialbreakfasttosayhello.Enjoy.”Hebowedandsmiled,thenvanished.
Thegirlslookedattheirplates.
“Baconandeggsarespecial?”Mimiasked,carefullypickingupapieceofbacon.
“Here,yes.Stavroswentoutofhisway.”
Mimisighed.“Grown-upsareweird,”shemuttered.
“Yes,Mimi,weare.Now.Trythatjuice.It’sthebestorangejuiceyouwillevertaste.”
Wefinishedbreakfast,andIcarriedourdishesbackintothekitchen,stoppingtospeaktoSimoneandaskingshethankherfatherforus.WhenIwentbackouttothesalon,thegirlswereoutinthepatio,holdinghands,lookingaround.Iwalkedthroughthedoors.Carawassmilingfaintly,andMiminoddedatsomething.
“Girls?”Icalled.
Theydroppedhandsandskippedover.
“Didyouseeher?”Mimiasked.
Iopenedmymouthtosay,“Seewho?”thenchangedmymind.“No.Ineverhave.Butyoudid?”
Caranodded.“Yes.She’sverypretty.Shesmiledatus.”
“Well,then,that’saverygoodsign.Ifshelikesyou,thenIthinkyou’llfitrightin.”
Theyhurriedinside.Asever,thepatiowascompletelystill.Nowindruffledtheleavespiledinthecorners,nosoundoftraffic.
“Thankyou,”Iwhisperedandwentinside.
Twodayslater,theywalkedtoschool.Theylovedtheuniforms.Theylovedthenewbackpacks.Theywerefearlessaswewalkedupthewidestonesteps,andwhywouldn’ttheybe?Theyhadagreedtoabrand-newlife,andIknewhowdeterminedtheycouldbe.Theyhadalreadysurvivedtheworst.TheyandIknewonlybetterdayswerecoming.
IclimbedthestairstoBing’sstudio,andheputdownhispaintsandplayedalittleBachwhilewedrankcoolwhitewineandspenttheafternoonexploringeachother.Webothrememberedpatienceandthevalueofslowkisses,lightfingertipsonskin,whisperedwords,andquietsighs.ThenhewalkedwithmebacktotheschoolandmetCaraandMimi,andwetalkedabouttheirfirstdayaswewalkedbeneathleaveschanginggreentogold,Bingwithhishandsbehindhisback,askingquestionsandnoddingwisely.
“Youhavethemwrappedaroundyourlittlefinger,”Itoldhimlater.
Hejustshookhishead.“No.Actually,it’stheotherwayaround.”
IhelpedMarieClaudeandPhilippewiththeirnewrooms.Iwatchedhercarefullyasshesaidtome,“Youdidsuchawonderfuljob;wouldyoumindhelpingus?Eliotwas,well,hewasaminimalist.Wehadnothingofwarmthorcolor.AndPhilippe,well,hewantseverythingallatonce,allthebooksandallthepaintings…It’stoomuchforme.”
“Thisisabigstep,MarieClaude,”Isaidcautiously.“Isoappreciateyourgivingupyourappart,butareyousure?”
Shelookeddownatherhands,thenupatme.“IhavetoldhimthatthehotelismyhomeandthatIcannotbewithhimifitisnothishomealso.Hesaysheisdonewithwanderingandthatheisreadytobuildalifewithme.Heeventhinkshemightlearnthehotelbusiness.”Sheglancedup.“Butevenifhedoesn’t,Iknowenough.Ourchildrenwillsomedayownthisplace,andIwillbeabletoteachthem.”
“Okay,then,”Isaid.“Whateverfurniturewasleftwastrundleduptotheattic,soatleastwewon’thavetoworryaboutmovingittoofar.AndIknowClaudinestashedafewtreasuresinthatlittleroombehindherstudy.”
Theirroomswereontheothersideoftheattic,awayfromBing’sstudio,upanothernarrowstairwaytuckedinyetanotherforgottencorner.Therewerenowidewindows,soPhilippedecidedtocontinuetoworkwithBing,butthethreesmallroomsquicklybecameoverstuffedwithplushchairsandlayeredrugs,lampsdrapedinredsilkscarves,pilesofbooksandsmallframedartworkleaningagainsteverysurface.Theonebathroomhadbeenfortheservants,ofcourse,narrow,windowless,andcold.MarieClaudejustliftedaneyebrowatPhilippe.
“Irefuse,”shesaidmildly,“tohavesexinthatshower.”
Philippelookedstricken,threwmeawickedgrin,andgotdownonbothkneesinfrontofher.“Ipromise,you’llhaveabeautifulnewshowerwithnouglyblackgrout,”hesaid.
Shelookedunimpressedasshetookasmallpileoffoldedtowelsfromme.“Maybe.”
Hegrabbedthetowelsfromherhands.“Aclaw-foottub?”heteased.
Shepulledthetowelsback.“Maybe.”
“Withachandelier?”
Shelookedveryserious,thennodded.“Yes.Withlotsoftinycrystals.ButyoumustpromisemethatIwillneverhavetocleanit.Iamresponsibleforthechandelierinthelobby,andthatisasmuchofaburdenasIcanbear.”
Philippestoodandgrabbedher,bendingherbackward,towelsandall,andgaveheralongkiss.Whenshefinallyreturnedupright,sheseemedunruffled.
“Yes,well.Butstillnosexinthatshoweruntilitisfixed.Understood?”Finally,acrackofasmile.
Hebeamedback.“Butwecanhavesexeverywhereelse?”
“Ofcourse,”shesaidlightly,andIlaughedwiththem,becauseofcoursetheywereinlove,ofcoursetheywereperfectforeachother.
Ofcourse.Thishadbeenworththelongandlonelytimeaway.
ItfeltoddthatThanksgivingwasnotcelebratedinFrance,butwhenthedaycame,ImadeaturkeyandBingdidtherest—stuffingandroastedcarrots,creamedonionsandfreshcranberriescookeddownwithorangeandsugarandasplashofwine.PhilippeandMarieClaudebroughtstuffedmushrooms,andVeramadeanappletart.Karlhadaboxofperfectlittlechocolates.Claudinehadarrivedwithlongbaguettesandacrockofhoney.Colinbroughtthehardciderandplayedmusicforus,thegirlslisteningasiftoapopstar.
Itwasalovelyholiday.WeFaceTimedMomandDad,andevenmynieceHeathergotinacall,promisinghercousinsthatshewouldvisitnextyear.
“CanIvisit,AuntLucy?”sheasked.“IknowMomandDadwillthrowafit,butIhavemoneysaved.”
“Ofcourseyoucan,”Itoldher.
ItwasthefollowingweekthatanotherphonecallcamefromAgentWhitman,thistimetellingmethatthemoneythatTonyFieldinghadstolenhadbeenplacedinanescrowaccount,andhewouldbesendingmethepaperworknecessarytohaveitreturnedtome.Igrippedthephoneashetoldme.
“DidyouhearwhatIjustsaid,MissGianetti?”heaskedafteraverylongpauseintheconversation.
“Yes.Yes,Iheard.That’s…thatisamazingnews.Thankyoufortellingme.”
“Everyoneelsegotanice,formalregisteredletter,butIwantedtobreakthenewstoyoumyself,”hesaid.
“Iappreciatethat,”Isaid,andImeantit.
Ihadbeenintheappartement,ofcourse,butafterIhungup,Iwalkedoutandlookedacrossthecourtyard,sweptcleanofalltheleavesthathadfallenandlookingquiteempty.
Thestableblockacrossfrommewasthesamelengthastheappartementblock,soIknewwhattheinteriorspacelookedlike.Wecouldputbathroomsacrosstheback,andindividualheatingunits.Isquinted.Maybewecouldbuildapergolaacrossthefront,createsmallindividualpatioswithironchairsandpottedpalms.Wecouldreplacetheheavywoodendoorswithportes-fenêtres,lightlydrapedwithsoftlinen,theinsideroomspaintedsoftcreamwithdark,stainedfloorsandthick-hewnbeams.Tenmorerooms.Wecouldfittwodoublebedsineachunit,bringingouroccupancynumbersuptooverfiftyguests.Themagicnumber.Wewouldbeabletoaccommodatetourgroups.
Ifwebegannow,theroomswouldbereadybythestartoftheseason.Maybesooner.
AsIwalkedbackintothehotel,mymindstarteddoingthemath.Withmorerooms,we’dneedmorehelp,someoneelseinhousekeepingforsure.MaybewecouldhiresomeonetohelpKarlandactasabellman,totingluggageupthegrandstaircase.Buttheadditionalincome…Wecouldchargemorefortheoutsideunits,ofcourse.…Whatwouldwecallthem?Notsuites,exactly.Carriagehouserooms?Guesthouserooms?
ClaudineandPhilippeweretogetherintheofficeasIwentbackin.
Shelookedup,abroadsmileonherface.“WearestartingtogetreservationsfortheChristmasmarkets.They’reverypopularhereinRennes.Peoplecomefromallover.We’llfillupfast.AndPhilippewouldliketolearnmoreaboutthem.”
Istopped,delighted.“Anddoesthismeanwemayhavesomeextrahelpbackhere?”
Herolledhiseyes.“BetweenMarieClaudeandmymother,itwouldappearthatIamdoomedtotakeupthereinsheresoonerorlater.Ihavedecidedtostoptryingtoturnthetide.”
“That’sgreat.Really.AndI’mgladyou’rebothhere,becauseIneedtoaskyouboth—isthereawordinFrenchfortheroomswecanmakeoutthereinthestables?Oncewerenovatethem,Imean.Iwasthinkingcarriagehouse,butthat’snotquiteright.”
Claudineraisedaneyebrow.“Ithoughtwedidn’thaveanymoneytodothat.Ibelieveyoutoldmethat?”
Isat.“Well,here’sthething,Claudine.IthinkIhavefoundyouanewinvestor.”
Shesatdownacrossfromme,foldedherhands,andleanedin.
“Tellme,”shesaid.
SoIdid.Acknowledgments
Asever,mythankstoLynnSeligmanforalwaysbeingabeliever.
ThanksalsotoAlicePfeiferatSt.Martin’sforbeingmyheadcheerleaderandhavinginfinitepatienceandgrace.
AndtoOlgaGrlic,JenEdwards,GailFriedman,ChrisindaLynch,SaraEnsey,MarissaSangiacomo,AlyssaGammello,AnneMarieTallberg,andallofthosewhoworkedbehindthescenes,whoInevermetandmaybeneverwill,butwhohavehelpedmakethisbookthebestitcanbe—myheartfeltthanksandappreciationforallyourhardwork.ALSOBYDEEERNST
MaggieFindsHerMuseAbouttheAuthor
DeeErnstbeganhercareerasawriterinMorristown,NewJersey,inthefourthgrade,equippedwithaspiral-boundnotebookandablueBicpen.Herdreamsofbeingawriterpersistedthroughseveralcollegemajors,multiplecareerchoices,andmany,manyyears.Sheself-publishedherfirstbookin2010.LucyChecksInishersecondbookwithSt.Martin’sGriffin,provingthatdreamsdo,infact,cometrueifyou’rewillingtokeepontrying.ShelivesinnorthernNewJerseywithherhusband,twospoiledcats,andaveryluckyterriermix,working,asalways,onthenextbook.Youcansignupforemailupdateshere
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