by Noree Kahika
“Holy shit! That was unbelievable, guys!” Courtney rushed over to Jake and me, carrying two bottles of water. “You guys fucking nailed it!”
Relieved we’d finally managed to pull it off with flawless precision, I joined Courtney in an earsplitting squeal of elation as we did a little happy dance around Jake. Courtney handed me one of the water bottles and then wrapped her arms around Jake’s neck to smack him square on the lips with a kiss. I couldn’t help grin at the two lovebirds who stared adoringly into each other’s eyes, totally oblivious of anything else but each other.
Jake is my cousin and one of only two biological family members I have left in the world and Courtney’s my best and dearest friend. Since Court and I first met in the second grade, we’d been practically inseparable. Jake, just a year older and a grade ahead of us, had always been included in our small circle of friends growing up.
For the past three years, Courtney and Jake danced around each other, constantly flirting and throwing out innuendos every chance they got but neither of them ever really making a move. To everyone who knew Court and Jake, it was obvious they were head over heels for each other—they just hadn’t admitted it to themselves.
A few years back, while Court and I were in our last year of college, Jake finally worked up the courage to ask her out on a date. It wasn’t long after, they became serious: Jake proposed to Courtney six months later; then, three months ago, Courtney discovered she was pregnant. They were both over the moon.
During our second year of college, Courtney and I moved into a two-bedroom condo in Los Angeles together and when they got engaged, Jake moved in with us. All three of us living together was a lot of fun and we had some great times but recently and especially after the pregnancy news, I felt more and more like the third wheel in their relationship. I loved them more than anything, but it was getting to the point to where they really needed their own space. Not to mention their constant public displays of affection almost verged on mild porn, so it was time I started to look for new accommodations.
Courtney’s eyes shined with adoration as she whispered against Jake’s smiling lips. “Baby, you nailed it.” She kissed him.
I grinned and shook my head at the two of them. “Okay, this is my cue to leave you two crazy lovebirds.”
“Charli!” Jake called out to me as I walked away.
I turned and looked back at my cousin. “Yeah?”
“You were amazing up there, kiddo.” His eyes were soft with affection and his smile was filled with pride.
God! He was such a great guy.
“Ditto, honey,” I murmured and gave him a wink.
As I stood under the hot shower, I closed my eyes and savored the heat of the water that flowed over my body and soothed the deep ache in my muscles from yesterday’s lengthy rehearsal session. As the steam slowly seeped into the pores of my skin, I paused to reflect on my life—something I don’t do very often, because moving forward and not looking back has always been my life’s motto.
My name is Charlotte Evangeline Gilmore but from the moment I was born, Dad called me Charli. I’d always suspected it was because deep down he wanted a boy, but nonetheless the nickname stuck and to this day mostly everyone calls me Charli.
I’m not your average twenty-five-year-old—my childhood was very different than that of my friends growing up, but at least my height is relatively average at five foot five. Although, if you’d ask my six-foot cousin Jake, he’d say I was a shorty. Fortunately, I’ve been blessed with my mom’s long, thick, golden-blonde hair and big sky-blue eyes. Unfortunately, according to Uncle Mike, I also inherited her sassy attitude, which often gets me into more trouble than not. And according to Courtney, I tend to be too guarded, almost to the point of indifference, especially when it comes to the male gender of the species. But I keep telling her that I’ve been too busy studying for my masters in teaching, performing with the troupe, and coaching the younger kids at a local gymnastic club part-time to bother with any kind of real relationship with the opposite sex. Besides, it’s not as though I’m some naïve virgin and haven’t had boyfriends over the years. I have—three, in fact. All were during my first couple of years at college.
But the truth of it was—I didn’t like any of them enough to pursue any real serious commitment with them. I don’t let my guard down, giving a piece of my soul away freely to just anyone. Sure, I enjoy sex and physical intimacy just as much as the next girl. However, with the guys I’ve been dating, that special spark that lights you up from the inside out, the combustible chemistry and burning passion I was ultimately looking for in a partner, was lacking. After a time, the relationships became too hard; either the guy became too clingy, too suffocating, or the relationship simply fizzled out.
Despite genuinely caring for my previous boyfriends, I wasn’t in love with them and so it came to the point where I preferred an intimate cozy night in all by myself rather than going on a date.
Courtney, in all her wisdom, assured me when I did finally meet that someone special, a man who sent my heartbeat racing and lit my body on fire from his touch alone, then things would be different. She also told me I had to actually get out there and date to find him. I seriously doubted her. Not everyone could have what she and Jake had and not everyone had what my parents had either.
After my parents died in a car crash when I was seven, I went to live with my Uncle Mike, my mother’s brother, and his son Jake. They were the only living relatives that either of my parents had still living. Very young, grief-stricken, vulnerable, and completely alone, Uncle Mike—a widower raising an only child by himself—took me in, and lavished me with unconditional love and affection as though I was his own child. He literally saved my childhood. Most kids don’t bounce back from that kind of tragedy so young in life.
Growing up in an all-male household was at times frustrating and at other times hilariously comical. Their unconventional lifestyle was one enormous adventure to a seven-year-old.
Like for all little children, my mom and dad were my whole world, so losing them was soul-destroying. But Uncle Mike and Jake did their best to fill the huge void that was left after their passing.
To me, their lifestyle was magical and purely fantastical. Uncle Mike had been a carnie (carnival folk) his whole life, so even though he had a permanent home based in Los Angeles, he spent six months of every year on the road traveling from city to city, state to state to perform at various county fairs and carnivals, and Jake and I traveled with him. He’d homeschool us when we were on the road and when at home, Jake and I attended a local school in the district where we lived.
Jake and I loved to help out where we could, always fetching this and that for the performers, and they always made us kids feel important. When we grew older, the acrobat team would let us train with them, teaching us tricks until we got good enough to participate in the shows.
Ten years ago, Uncle Mike started his own acrobatic troupe called the Amazing Lawsons and I was lucky enough to be included as a member of the troupe.
My mother was a gymnast in her youth and a darn good one, according to all her medals Uncle Mike kept. He once told me she represented on a state level, and as a kid it was her one true passion. As soon as I could walk, Mom had me in the local gymnastic group as well as dance classes and I kept taking them through the years.
My specialty was the aerial silk ribbon. To me, there was nothing more freeing, more liberating then when I was suspended high in the air, dancing and moving to the music, my body flowing while safely entwined in the smooth silk of the ribbon. Last year, Jake’s acrobat partner had left the troupe, so I partnered up with him and combined our routines, modifying both his trapeze act and my aerial performance.
Although I loved performing, toward the end of high school I realized that it wasn’t something I wanted to do permanently for a living, so I decided to go to college and become an elementary schoolteacher. The idea of making a difference in a child’s life, teaching and guiding them
in a positive way just like Uncle Mike did for me, was inspiring.
Did you know research shows that the most influential years in a person’s life are between birth and the age of twelve? After reading that in social studies during my sophomore year, I knew instantly I wanted to become a teacher. I wanted to be a positive influence in the lives of young kids and if I could just make even a small difference for the better in their future, then it would be an extremely rewarding career path to take.
My heart was set on teaching either the first or second grade. I particularly loved children of that age—they’re so impressionable, full of innocence, and totally absent of all those crappy pretenses that seem to form as we grow older. To me, the only thing that matched a child’s boundless energy was their genuine enthusiasm for life and all it could offer.
After graduation, I couldn’t wait to start teaching but with the downturn in the economy of recent years, good teaching positions were slim pickings. I’d managed to get some part-time work as a temp substitute teacher in several local schools over the past year, grateful for the hands-on experience, but I needed a permanent teaching tenure. My very own class and my very own group of kids was my dream, therefore I’d started to apply to various schools across the country. Leaving California would be daunting; it meant leaving Courtney, Jake, and Uncle Mike. But at twenty-five and well into the realm of adulthood, I had to make my way in this world at some point.
The performance in Bordeaux followed by a couple of nights with Courtney and Jake in Paris was going to be the perfect high to end my last performance with the troupe before I settled down in my teaching career. Court and I had always dreamed of going to Paris since we were ten years old and watched the movie Funny Face with Audrey Hepburn at Courtney’s grandparents’ house during the Christmas holidays that year.
We only had two days and two nights in the City of Light but I couldn’t wait! Courtney and I literally had a three-page list of all the sights we wanted to see, much to Jake’s increasing dismay. I guess he had hoped for a romantic weekend together with Court before they had the baby but Court was adamant she wanted to see everything she could possibly manage in those two days, and I was so totally with her on that score.
“Charli. I’m home.” From under the spray of the shower, I heard Courtney calling out. The sound of her voice followed by the slamming of the front door drew me from thoughts of Paris.
After I turned off the shower, I grabbed a soft lemon towel and wrapped it around my wet body just as Courtney barged through the door of the bathroom. Through the steam, I noticed her hands were fisted on her hips.
“I cannot believe you’re not even packed yet, Charli!” Courtney’s glare was almost as withering as her tone.
“Who said I haven’t? And do you mind giving a girl some privacy here.” I hiked the towel up higher on my body.
“Pfft…it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” she scoffed dismissively. “We’re meant to be at the airport in less than three hours and you haven’t even packed, let alone dressed yet. Get your ass into gear, girlfriend. Now!”
“Court, may I remind you, I’m not the one who takes two hours to get ready when we go out—that’s you, babe,” I pointed out, aiming for patience. “Besides, for your information, I have packed.” I pushed past an affronted Courtney and walked into my bedroom.
“What? You’re only taking a carry-on with you to France?” squeaked Courtney, who followed closely behind.
When I glanced at my best friend, she had an incredulous, horrified expression plastered on her features. One arm waved at the small pink rollaway case I’d placed by the door of my bedroom.
“Yeah,” I replied, drawing the word out. “We are only going for three days, Court, not two weeks.”
“But…but,” she stuttered. Her hands flapped wildly around in the air and I wanted to laugh at her.
Clearly this was beyond her comprehension. Courtney was the kind of girl who had to have at least three outfit choices to select from each day and her shoe fetish was worse. At last count, Courtney owned approximately one hundred and twenty-two pairs of shoes and that was only counting pumps, wedges, and sandals, not including the bazillion sneakers, boots, and flip-flops she’d acquired over the years. How the girl wasn’t completely broke from her shoe addiction was beyond me.
I sighed loudly. “Court, I have my costume for the show, two pairs of jeans, three tops, a hoodie, my beige trench coat, pajamas, enough underwear, and one dress with matching heels for a night out—that’s it. That’s all I’m going to need for three days. Unlike you, who’s probably packed at least ten pairs of shoes alone for the trip.” I couldn’t help adding the jab at her ridiculous shoe fixation.
“Twelve,” she sheepishly replied.
I should have known! I shook my head in exasperation. I turned away from Court and pulled out a pair of white linen pants and a soft blue long-sleeved t-shirt from my wardrobe, opting for clothes that would be comfy enough to wear on the thirteen-hour flight to Paris and the following one-hour flight from Paris to Bordeaux. The most hours I had ever spent on a plane at one time was five—it was going to be a long night.
“Okay, fine, but don’t complain to me when you don’t have a thing to wear.” Courtney huffed and folded her arms over her chest. “And when we go shopping on the Champs-Élysées in Paris and you don’t have any extra room for all the things you buy, don’t expect me to put them in my suitcases. You’ll have to buy another one when you’re there.” She turned and walked from my room.
“No, Court. We’re sightseeing, remember. Two days is all we have,” I yelled futilely at her retreating back. “We’re going to be too busy seeing as much of Paris as we can. We won’t have time for shopping.”
I’m a woman—of course I love shopping just as much as the next girl. Nevertheless, seeing Paris for the first time in my life, I wanted to see everything possible, not waste all our time shopping. The Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame—two days wasn’t nearly long enough.
“Yeah, yeah.” I heard her mumble. “We’ll find time to shop, I promise you.”
Courtney was probably right—what girl in her right mind could resist at least a little shopping action on the famous Champs-Élysées in gorgeous Paris?
Not me—that’s for sure!
Chapter Two
Courtney squealed and elbowed me as we sat in the back of the mini bus. “Ohmigod! Would you look at this palace!”
She jumped jubilantly up and down on the seat, jostling my body, but my gaze remained transfixed on the incredibly majestic view sprawled out before us.
“It’s a chateau, Court, not a palace,” I corrected absently as I took in the breathtaking scene.
And boy, what a chateau it was! Four stories high, built entirely from large white limestone, complete with two commanding gothic turrets and surrounded with what appeared to be hundreds of acres upon hundreds of acres of lush, vivid green countryside and picturesque vineyards. Wrought-iron gates silently guarded the entrance to a long, tree-lined, white gravel road that ended in a circular driveway, complete with a six-foot limestone fountain positioned in the center of the driveway. Sweeping steps were flanked by huge columns on either side and at the very top of the stairs proudly stood a set of huge double oak doors trimmed with iron hinges.
As I scanned the monumentally imposing structure, I tried to quickly count the windows on each floor but there were just too many—there must be like twenty plus rooms in the chateau!
An elderly man with a goatee, wearing a three-piece suit and a dazzling purple tie, smiled warmly at us as we got out of the van.
“Bonjour and welcome to France, mademoiselles and monsieur. I am Henri LeSage, the operational manager of Chateau Mon Desire.”
“Bonjour,” Courtney and I sung in unison and then giggled like the enthusiastic tourists we were. The French language is so melodiously sensual.
“I’m Charli.” I extended my hand toward the Frenchman. He nodded politely and then drew me in fo
r a chaste double-cheeked kiss.
Jake extended his hand. “I’m Jake and this is Courtney.” They shook hands and then Mr. LeSage kissed Courtney on both of her cheeks.
“I do hope your flight was not too exhausting.” His voice had a heavy accent. “Your rooms are ready and Mr. Lawson and the rest of your troupe are almost finished with the preparations for tonight’s performance in the grand ballroom. I’ll be happy to show you there once you have settled in.”
Uncle Mike, along with Toby, Jane, and Frank, flew over a day earlier to set up the trapezes, staging, and lighting. Jake and I weren’t needed until final rehearsals that afternoon before the evening’s show. The Amazing Lawsons was a small acrobatic troupe that consisted only of the six of us—seven before Jake’s old partner left—but somehow it worked.
“Thank you, Mr. LeSage, and thank you for having us.”
“You’re most welcome, Mademoiselle Charli, but please call me Henri.” His warm brown eyes were kind and sincere.
“How many rooms does this chateau have, Henri?” Courtney practically bounced on the balls of her feet in excitement. I knew how she felt—this place was extraordinary. I couldn’t wait to go exploring.
“Ah…Chateau Mon Desire boasts twenty-two bedrooms, twenty-eight bathrooms, a grand ballroom, formal dining hall, library, and two receiving lounges, as well as nine other rooms.” Henri rattled off the impressive numbers with unconcealed pride in his voice. “The chateau was built in 1694 and is not only one of the oldest chateaus in Sauternes but in all of the Bordeaux region.”
“Wow,” Courtney breathed, and together we both craned our heads back to take in the full height of the structure.
Wow didn’t even begin to express the enchanting estate—as if materialized straight from a child’s fairy tale, the scene was surreal.