CHAPTER 11
“How about this one?” Louis asked after a few bars.
“Coffee!” Laura answered first.
“Purcell,” Grégoire muttered.
“The game is not to name the composer,” Frédéric reminded his grandfather, “but the commercial that uses the music.”
“Lucky for you all,” Grégoire replied, “or nobody would’ve scored!”
The storm had forced them to abandon their croquet game and take refuge with this game in the music room. Louis payed a tune on the piano from memory and the others tried to guess what it was.
“Whatever, Grégoire,” Laura said, all smiles. “ I know that I’m winning this game, ha!”
Louis started to play another tune and Hugues and Laura shouted at the same time, “Aosta ham!”
“Verdi’s Rigoletto,” Grégoire said.
Louis glanced at his father and then said, “Okay. Something a bit more difficult.”
They listened attentively until Francine said, “Some car advertisement?”
“Bravo!” Louis said. It’s the music for the Alfa Romeo commercial.”
“We’ll grant you the point, Ms. Capelan,” Grégoire said, “but somehow I don’t think that Mozart had any sort of sports car in mind when he composed that one.”
Francine smiled and Louis said, “Dad, you’re getting on our nerves. Alright, Mister Know-It-All, see what you make of this.”
Louis launched into a piece that he played for a good minute before anyone interrupted him.
“An insurance company commercial?” Tiphaine said with her little girl’s voice.
“I don’t think so, darling,” Louis said. “But your grandfather doesn’t know either.”
Louis grinned at his father, who shrugged. “Come on, Grégoire—Shostakovich!”
A violent burst of thunder shook all the windows. The lights flickered for a moment. Sabine nestled against her mom, while Tiphaine clasped her hand on her ears. It was only six, but the sky was so dark it was as though night had fallen.
“I left my bedroom window open,” Frédéric said. “I’m going upstairs to close it.”
“Check the other rooms!” shouted Louis as his son darted out of the room.
Romain, sitting in the background, hadn’t participated in the game. He was too busy observing the way Louis was interacting with his piano. The young man found something disheartening about Louis’s virtuosity. Obviously, his technique was flawless, but he’d also mastered the inventiveness of the improvisations. And he wasn’t even looking at the keyboard!
Romain settled behind Louis, to get a better look at his hands.
“One last one?” he asked, a bit timidly.
“Sure.”
The sound of the Steinway was exceptional, and Louis only grazed the keys. He tilted his head toward the teen in order to observe his reaction.
“Perfume commercial?” mumbled Romain.
“Correct. And the composer?”
“Prokofiev?”
“Wonderful! Seems like you know a thing or two about classical music.”
Without responding, Romain cracked a smile, and went over to his mother. Frédéric was amazingly lucky, and didn’t even take advantage of it. His spoiled-brat behavior had made him turn away from studying music and playing the piano. He even bragged about that! Romain would’ve given anything in the world to grow up in an atmosphere like Neuville House. Here, music was not only Louis’s career, it was a way of life--a celebration, a reason for everyone to come together and have fun. Earlier, Sabine had hammered a few discordant notes with Louis guiding her little hands. How much was that Steinway worth, and how many times did Louis need to have it tuned?
Romain didn’t feel jealousy or bitterness. He loved his parents, especially his mother. He had no reason to complain about anything. There was no use making comparisons. Not when all he had to compare was one guitar, the prohibitive cost of music lessons, and his father’s reticence when it came to his passion…
“What time do you want me to drop you off at Richard’s?” his mother asked him.
Until now, he’d given little thought to the party he was supposed to go to. Richard had warned him that he’d invited Frédéric along with a whole bunch of kids from school, Élise too. Maybe they could settle the score on neutral ground, once and for all. For the past few days, they’d ignored each other every time they met. They hadn’t even made eye contact. Francine and Louis had lunch or supper together, sometimes she spent the night at the house. Once in a while Romain came over. Nobody was trying to impose anything on the boys. They were only required to treat each other cordially. Tacitly, Frédéric and Romain had decided to maintain the status quo at least in front of their parents.
“Seven or so,” Romain told Francine. “Richard asked me to get there early to help him move furniture and pick out music.”
Francine smiled. Romain felt a wave of tenderness for her. As a mother, she was pretty strict. But she could be cool about things. She never gave him a hard time because of the length of his hair or the amount of time he spent playing the guitar. And she didn’t fuss too much when he came in a bit passed curfew when he went out with his buddies. She insisted on good grades, a clean bedroom, and no drugs. He lied to her about the drugs, since there was no way to bring it up. She’d once told him that she had zero tolerance when it came to dope—not a single joint, not a single puff, nothing. He hadn’t had the chance to explain that smoking weed was so common that saying no would actually make you look like a chump.
Two bursts of thunder in quick succession made everyone jump.
“Holy cow,” Laura said, “that was close!”
Violent and sudden summer storms had always terrified her. When she was a little girl, she’d ran to Louis and Alix when thunder and lightning raged. The twins were amused by her irrational fear but would make an exception and let her into their circle. They’d coddle her like a doll, and send her away as soon as the skies cleared.
“Are you still scared?” a sarcastic Alix asked her.
“There’s an excellent lightning rod on the roof,” Louis reminded her, calmly.
After another clap of thunder, the lights went out. Complete power outage.
“I’m getting the candles,” Grégoire said.
Francine came over to Louis and said she’d be gone for thirty minutes in order to take Romain to the party.
“You’re going to drive in this weather?” he said.
Rain was coming down sideways, crashing into the music room’s windows. Francine waved a hand as if to say “what can I do.” She took a step toward the hallway, but Louis caught her wrist.
“Let me go instead. Please.”
There was no doubt he was a better driver. Still, Francine didn’t want him to be stuck with the chore--what would his family think? She shook her head, but Louis gestured at Romain.
“Tell your mom to say here, and come with me.”
Romain followed Louis across the house. When Louis opened the front door, the wind almost slammed it back shut. They ran to the car and closed the doors at the same time, both drenched. Torrents of rain pelted the windshield. Louis turned on the wipers and the headlights, before inching down the driveway.
“Can’t see three feet up ahead,” he whispered.
In spite of the defroster going full blast, fog was covering the inside of the windshield.
“This is one heck of a car you have,” Romain said, admiring the dashboard.
“I love it! In fact, I’m crazy about cars. It’s completely immature...”
He smiled like a kid. Once again, Romain couldn’t help thinking that Louis was a neat guy.
“Big problem,” Louis said as he stared at the closed gate in front of the car. “No power, no remote. One of us is going to have to go out there and let us out...”
Romain gave him a startled look, and both started to laugh.
Inside the house, Grégoire stood at a window looking at the Alfa Romeo stopped i
n front of the gate. “Going out there now is nuts,” he muttered to himself. “They should’ve waited for the storm to pass.”
Busy setting candles around the room, Frédéric didn’t hear his grandfather’s comment.
Grégoire turned to the fireplace, put a log on a stack of kindling, and lit a match.
Laura and Francine headed for the kitchen.
“I don’t know what we’re going to eat if the power doesn’t come back,” Laura said, resting her hand on the electric oven.
“We could broil some potatoes in the fireplace,” Francine suggested. “In the embers?”
“Not a bad idea... With some cold cuts and bread and a salad, it’d be perfect. Besides, it’s not like we’ve never lost power here. Every time there’s a big storm we wind up in the dark.”
Francine smiled and sat at the table.
“So,” Laura said. “Is it time for tea or for a glass of wine?”
“I’d have a tea,” Francine said, “but we can’t heat the water.”
“It’s settled, then. Wine it is.”
Laura got two glasses and a bottle of red, and asked Francine to open the wine while she looked for the gas lamps in the cupboard. Outside, the rain was still coming down hard, though the thunder and lightning had abated.
“I didn’t want Louis to go out there,” Francine mumbled, as though she was apologizing.
“Why not? Louis loves to drive, no matter the weather... I’m going to clean the potatoes. Want to get the tinfoil?”
Standing in front of the sink with her back to Francine, Laura added, “Are things getting a bit better, with Frédéric I mean?”
“I wish I could say yes, but I’ve no idea. I’m not sure how to approach him. I wish I hadn’t been his French teacher.”
“He’s really a bad student?”
“Well, he’s very smart, you know that. But also extremely lazy. No motivation whatsoever.”
Francine hadn’t told Louis about his son’s disruptive behavior in class and didn’t plan on doing so. Frédéric’s last report card had caused Louis enough grief.
“And Romain?”
“It’s different. He’s more mature than Frédéric, and he works much harder. That’s how we raised him, his father and I.”
Laura turned off the tap and sat at the table with Francine, setting a bunch of clean potatoes in front of them.
“Louis did what he could,” she said. “No doubt he protected him too much, he spoiled him too. We all did…”
Right away Francine felt bad. She’d misspoken.
“No, wait!” she said. “I didn’t mean that... I mean, it’s obviously an advantage when both your parents are teachers. Plus, Romain didn’t lose his mother. My God, I wasn’t criticizing Louis as a father. In fact, the reason we met is because I called him over to school to talk about Frédéric’s grades. He looked so concerned, so worried…”
Francine hadn’t told anyone about her first encounter with Louis, but talking to Laura was so easy that she didn’t regret it. Especially since Laura said, “I’m very happy that he found you. He was alone for far too long.”
“I have a hard time figuring that one out,” Francine muttered. “How come he was alone for so long, and what made him choose me?”
Those were questions she’d asked herself since the beginning, and she still didn’t know the answers.
“You go very well together,” Laura said with a beaming smile.
“You think? I’m not very special, but Louis is.”
“You really shouldn’t put yourself down. Louis is attractive, but he’s not a charmer. He’s passionate, but far too reserved. He’s got talent, but he’s too emotional. All that can scare away women. But you, you’re grounded. And you also shine; you’re beautiful. You managed to snag him… As a matter of fact, he wasn’t even really available to women.”
Francine was listening, elbows on the kitchen table, with he chin in her hands.
“I’m not sure I’m following ,” she said.
“Well, he was settled into his role as a single father, perfectly okay with being alone with Frédéric and his music. I’m sure he didn’t really want things to change, even though he wasn’t happy. To tell you the truth, Louis’s rapport with women isn’t very simple. He’s guarded most of the time. And he has to deal with Alix. She has no clue of her impact on his life. It’s normal for her since they’re twins. It wouldn’t cross her mind to second-guess herself . She wants to control everything about him, occupy all the room around him. You need to know this. She’s going to give you a hard time.”
“Well, she’s started already.”
Twenty or so potatoes wrapped in tinfoil were now on the table. Francine was rolling absentmindedly while listening to Laura.
“Both need each other,” Laura continued, “but Alix is much more dependent, despite her authoritarian attitude. Louis can exist without her. He’s proved it already with Marianne and now with you. And, he can take refuge in his music if he feels too much pressure from his sister.”
“Interesting relationship…” Francine said.
She knew full well that Alix was her worst enemy. On the other hand, she also knew that she could win a different battle, one Alix didn’t have access to, sensuality. She’d instinctively exploited her advantage from the beginning. She’d won Louis over on the very first night.
“I don’t think that Alix chose her career as agent by accident,” Laura went on. “She did amazingly well in law school and could’ve become a successful attorney or even a judge. But how would she have included Louis in that world? By being his agent, she can have him to herself every single day. She can yell at him or put him on a pedestal according to her mood. And she’s in a position to keep people away from him. In other words, she has him to herself.”
“And what does she get out of this, exactly?”
“Nothing, really. But it’s not a reasonable thing, you know. She just does that. If Marianne hadn’t died in that horrible crash, things might’ve evolved differently. Alix would have probably committed to Tom if Louis hadn’t wound up alone, about to break down. Alix went to the rescue, with Tom falling by the wayside. Too bad for everybody.”
Laura’s words were a godsend, the key for Francine to understand the Neuville family and her part in it. Her conflict with Frédéric would get better with time and patience, but when it came to Alix she needed a plan .
“Is this your point of view as a psychologist?” Francine asked.
“As a sister, too. And I’m telling you all this because Louis won’t, he’s too private for that.”
Thunder was rumbling in the distance, which made Laura smile.
“Storms have always made me blab,” she said. “I really like you, Francine, and I hope that the boys will get along sooner or later.”
Francine had the impression that Laura had read her own thoughts.
“It’s the only thing that scares me,” she admitted. “The rest I can deal with.”
“Oh, I have no doubt about that.”
“My sister has always given good advice,” said Louis in a soft voice.
Francine and Laura turned to the door and saw Louis on the threshold, his rain-soaked shirt stuck to his shoulders. Maybe he’d been there for a while. In any case, he remained perfectly still.
“You’re mighty nosy,” Laura said. “We were having girl talk. ”
“Thanks for driving Romain,” Francine murmured.
“No problem. Besides, now I know where the party is. I’m going to have to take Frédéric there later on. He can’t drive his scooter tonight, not in this weather.”
He stepped into the kitchen and glanced at the potatoes on the table.
“Dinner?” he asked.
“If there’s enough embers in the fireplace,” Laura responded.
“For once, Dad’s fire is going to be useful,” Louis said. “Do we have enough candles to last the evening? I called EDF and we might be without power for a while.”
Standi
ng behind Francine, he delicately ran a hand through her blond curls. It was a gentle gesture, filled with such tenderness that Laura was moved. She looked at them both for a moment and then got up, grabbed a gas lamp, and left the kitchen to meet up with the others in the living room. Louis leaned against Francine and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.
“Did Laura say terrible things about me?” he asked. “She’s very astute. Nothing escapes her. But she’s the nicest person on earth!”
She pressed the back of her head against Louis, felt the wet cotton of his shirt.
“You should go change,” she said.
“Are you coming up with me?”
“Is that an indecent proposal?”
“You bet it is!”
He laughed and held her tight, before letting a hand slide inside her T-shirt.
“I love the feel of your skin,” he said.
A voice came from the hallway. Louis stood up and Francine stiffened in her chair. One second later, Frédéric waltzed into the kitchen, followed by his cousins.
“We’re supposed to set the table,” Frédéric said to Francine and Louis. “You want to help us?”
The fact that he’d looked at them both was some concession for Frédéric. Until now, he’d always tried to disengage or downright ignore Francine.
“Sure!” Francine said, in a good mood.
When she got to her feet, Frédéric handed her a tray and started to pile plates on it.
* * *
Just around midnight, the vibe at the party was great. The ones who smoked pot were already stoned and were now sprawled on the sofa or on cushions on the floor. Others were dancing at the other end of the living room.
With Romain’s help, Richard moved some of the furniture out of the way and stored the breakables in a closet. For once his parents were away. He wanted a party but also wanted to avoid having the place trashed. He knew how parties ended sometimes. Almost everybody was now either drunk or high.
The Man of Their Lives Page 22