“Look at the phone, Mom, so that Nigel can see you,” January whispered. “She’s new at this, my sweets.”
“Take your time,” Nigel said. His patience so rarely wavered.
“Well…hello, Nigel,” Aurora said at last and played with her hair as she followed her daughter’s direction. They were both so much alike. Aurora had her true moments of vanity, too. “And please—call me Aurora,” she shouted and then turned to January. “Oh, he’s so much better looking than that frog.”
“Mom! He can hear every word! And stop screaming—speak conversationally.”
“Oh, well…Nigel, how are you? Giving those riding lessons today?”
Aurora’s attention to detail impressed January. All summer long, she thought her mother ignored her incessant ramblings about Nigel, dismissing him as another conquest that her daughter would eventually discard. Aurora never let her know that she absorbed every word.
“Back from the stable. Just finished my last kid today,” he said. “And what are you up to? Did you bake January her banana bread yet?”
“Two loaves,” Aurora said proudly and then pinched January’s waist. “We have to fatten her up a little while she’s home.”
“I’ve heard you make the best in all of Kansas.”
“Well, I’ll have to send a loaf back for you when she returns to Paris. You can even freeze it. It’ll keep.”
“Good to know, and I’m looking forward to it.”
“And that’s a beautiful locket you got my little girl.” During one of their long talks while she was in Los Angeles, January had mentioned the gift to her mother, and Aurora noticed that January had been wearing it since she arrived home.
“Well, a beautiful woman deserves beautiful things.” Nigel truly meant every word. “I’m glad she likes it.”
“I told you I never take it off,” January jumped in.
“Nigel, you’ll take care of her when she goes back to France, right?” Aurora knocked them both off their balance with her sudden question. “I just…we worry about her being so far away. And all these things happening in the world right now…”
One thing Aurora didn’t know was Nigel’s story with Charlotte. January held her breath as she waited for his response. She could see the pain in his eyes. He couldn’t withstand thinking of something happening to January.
“I promise you, Aurora, I will protect her,” Nigel said. “Even from those stupid photographers…”
Then Aurora turned to January and giggled. “I love that accent. He’s so formal!”
“Yeah, that accent is kinda charming, isn’t it?” January said and smiled directly at her phone. “Nigel, how close are you to having the kitchen finished?”
His worry for the last two weeks had been a significant delay in ordering the commercial grade appliances that Clarissa needed for the small restaurant they were about to open.
“That bloody stove finally arrived in Avignon this morning. They’ve assured me that they’ll install tomorrow,” he said with restrained relief. “Mum said she’s holding you to a few hostess shifts.”
“January? Hostessing?” Aurora shouted. “Oh, she’d be perfect at greeting the guests. Just don’t let her serve or cook. She’d drop the trays and burn the place down.”
“See, January, these are the important things I need to know that only a mum can tell me,” he teased. “Thank you, Aurora. I appreciate the insight.”
“Listen, Nigel…” Aurora leaned closer to the phone as if she wanted to tell him a secret, but she continued to shout—just in case he couldn’t hear her across the ocean. “Would you…have you ever thought about coming to visit us on the farm?”
Nigel didn’t hesitate for a second. “I would love to! Does that invitation extend to your daughter, too?”
January playfully cleared her throat. “Watch it—or I won’t bring that banana bread back with me.”
“Nigel, we can discuss this again,” Aurora joked with a nudge to her daughter. January hadn’t seen her so jovial in ages. That laugh and smile took some years off Aurora’s face. “We’ve even got some horses for you to ride.”
“I’m sold!” he told her. “January certainly knows her way around a saddle.”
Immediately, she knew that Nigel wasn’t necessarily talking about her equestrian skills, and January wore the evidence of her chagrin all over her face.
“Alright, you two, I’m going to cut this short so that I can go have some girl time with my nieces,” January said. “Nigel, can I call you tonight before bed?”
“Of course, you can,” he said. “And again, it was lovely to meet you, Aurora.”
“Well, I want to see you in person, Nigel. And soon. Don’t be a stranger like that frog!”
January just cut them all off before her mother could say another word. However, she couldn’t be angry. In fact, she couldn’t stop laughing.
No sooner did she look up, though, that stern and stoic look returned to Aurora’s entire demeanor. “I’m glad we keep you entertained here on the farm,” she said. “Maybe you really will come back on a regular basis now.”
“You’ll see, Mom. I won’t stay away like before.” Reaching for her mother’s hands, January took a breath. “Now…what did you think of him?”
“You must be serious about this guy,” Aurora said, “because you’ve never asked my opinion before.”
“Well…?”
The weight of the world hung in the balance as January waited for her mother’s reaction. Nigel charmed Aurora on the phone, but that meant nothing. January needed some validation.
“I think he has manners,” Aurora began. “And he seems like he works very hard. He seems devoted to his parents. And he doesn’t just spend his time with his guitar at the pool.”
To his credit, Etienne did work very hard, but despite his huge success, her parents always thought he’d taken the lazy route in life.
“So…you like him?”
“Yes, Jan, I do.” At that point, January was just thrilled that she’d finally found someone who made her mother happy.
“Want me to put Facetime on your phone?” January asked.
Aurora smiled but raised her perfectly plucked brows. “Is that Nigel gonna call me?”
“I think that can be arranged.”
“Let me go find my phone…”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Those early fall days on the farm passed all too quickly for January, but just as she promised herself with Provence, she would return—soon. She abandoned her dresses for jeans, straight from Xavier’s fall line, and blousy tops that afforded her some comfort. Her collection of Louboutins hadn’t seen the light of day since she left Los Angeles, and flats were the new spikes.
With the whirl of activities at her fingertips, she wondered why her previous visits bored her so much. Now, though, the kids were older, and her brothers had truly built an enchanted world around them. She challenged her nephews to a timed traverse through the corn maze. She’d spent time in town with her nieces, taking them to the little boutiques, salons and lunch.
At the local diners, she wanted everything on the menus. Usually, she ate in five-star restaurants where the chefs were concerned with the plated art of cuisine rather than the flavors. Here in Kansas, food in restaurants was homemade. She could enjoy Emma’s meatloaf in one place and then relax with a slice of Patty’s Pumpkin Pie at the next stop down the road.
Maybe Provence wasn’t all that different than Kansas. At long last, she finally felt like she’d come home.
January even enjoyed a couple of girls’ nights with her sisters-in-law. What saddened her was that she knew so little about these women who were a major part of her immediate family. They talked fashion and asked questions about her life in Hollywood and Paris. However, January took an interest in their lives, too, inquiring about their new homes and the kids. In her brothers’ wives, she found a new set of girlfriends.
Back on the farm, she helped out as much as she could, playing
sous-chef to Aurora and straightening up after the grandchildren. Beyond the farmhouse, though, she took the time to tour the entire property with her brother Matthew. He’d truly invested the money she’d given them wisely. A few pieces of state-of-the-art equipment were still needed, but not necessary. They were doing just fine, Matt assured her, but January insisted on a wire transfer to cover the last of the improvements. While her pride in her brothers’ success surged, she wanted Gallimore Farm to sustain itself for her nieces and nephews—and maybe for one or two of her own kids one day.
Admittedly, January had the most fun helping with the hayride through the haunted barn. She’d dressed as Morticia Addams in a tight dress that her sister-in-law sewed for her in one afternoon. The quick work with the costume certainly put Xavier’s efforts to shame. He always took forever and a day creating every piece she wore.
Matt and her father were both quick to note that they always made a killing during the Halloween season, but having January back truly boosted the box office. Once rumors circulated that she had been visiting, everyone from several towns around them flocked to the farm for a glimpse. And she actually had fun giving them one. She’d even promised that she’d return for the next Halloween if they let her help them plan. Reluctantly, Matt and Ed agreed, even though the ladies usually stayed away from all farm business.
Of course, she had her fun with Charlie, too. In fact, she spent most of her time with him, but that wasn’t so different from their early years. No one in the Gallimore family said a word, and Charlie remarked that he was pretty sure they were all glad to get rid of the two wayward children when possible.
Together, brother and sister made a late-night trip to Charlie’s favorite gay bar, where January’s diva status was revered. She spent the entire night signing autographs and taking photos. Although Charlie was ready to crawl under the closest table and hide, January had fun and took it in stride. She even bought the whole bar a round and left a handsome tip for that poor bartender.
January also stepped up to help Charlie figure out a few more details on the vineyard business. She agreed to do a photo shoot with the intent to create a life-sized cutout to use as a promotional tool for their vendors. Charlie’s local photographer friend agreed to help.
Much to her delight, January figured out quickly that Charlie and Don seemed to have a little crush on each other. Maybe now that he’d finally told her parents, Charlie could enjoy his own life to the fullest. As she posed with the bottles, she caught the whispers and the little private jokes unfolding between them. She was so damn happy for Charlie, and she couldn’t wait to tease him after Don left.
Although she’d truly had the time of her life, she also had to face her other reality and figure out what she was doing with the rest of her life. That reminder came the day before was set to leave for Paris when Etienne phoned her.
So relaxed was January, she actually welcomed his call.
“You’re coming to Paris tomorrow?” Etienne repeated her excitedly. For once, he showed some emotion over her pending trip. “Merde. Janny, I’m on the road right now. I arrive in Paris on Tuesday for my soundcheck, but I’ll have plenty of time after the show that night. I’m…I’m actually finished touring for the year…”
For one split second, her heart perked. He’d always promised her that he would cut back on his extensive concert schedule. Maybe her words finally sunk in. However, she couldn’t accept one conversation as truth.
While she considered his invitation, he didn’t wait for her to answer. “I’m leaving a ticket for you. Will you please come?”
For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him no. “Yes, Etienne. I’ll be there.”
“Oh, Janny, I miss you,” he whispered. “Promise me you’ll come backstage? Please?”
Again, she acquiesced, but they did need to see each other face-to-face. They’d only spoken on the phone since June. However, she refused to succumb to his emotional demands. As empowered as breaking up with him made her feel, she hadn’t managed to relax. Now, after these two weeks at home, she felt as if she’d taken a much-needed vacation. Her thoughts were clear, and she wouldn’t chance her heart again to fleeting feelings.
“Merci, chérie…” Etienne continued without a thought to how she might really be feeling. “I can’t wait to see you. It’s…it’s been too long. And I hope you know that I miss you...”
“See you Tuesday night,” she said softly. “And safe travels, Etienne.”
“You, too, Janny…”
When she hung up, she sighed and stomped up the old stairs to her former bedroom. January had to laugh every time she opened the door. Her mother had left it, for the most part, as it was on the day she took off for New York—like a museum in honor of her formative years. No one had bothered to remove her old posters of N’Sync that Charlie once helped her duct tape to the walls. Even some of her clothes that she’d left behind still hung in her closet. She thought she might have a look and recycle some old fashions.
Now, though, in between the pieces of sturdy white furniture, all custom built by the woodshop down the road, crates of children’s toys filled every bit of open space. Aurora had used January’s former boudoir as the playroom when the grandchildren were younger. There were literally toys for every age in that room now.
January pretty much had everything packed but for Nigel’s banana bread. Aurora wanted to make sure that she took a fresh loaf with her on the plane. Right now, she just needed a few minutes alone to think about Etienne.
The solid knock reminded January that her time wasn’t her own just quite yet. What surprised her, however, was her father’s presence filling the frame when she opened the door.
“Daddy! Well…what brings you here?”
Ed held up a bottle of her brother’s wine and two glasses. “I thought I’d try this stuff out. Maybe you can tell me more about it,” he said. “A little drink before dinner? Out back?”
Her brothers had constructed a huge tiered deck at the back of her parents’ house, and that was Ed’s favorite spot. From there, he could see the entire farm and the heritage he’d helped to build.
Just the day before, Lucie insisted that Aunt Jan assist with the choosing of her dress for the Daddy-Daughter Dance. Of course, January thought back to her own memories of that night with Ed when she was just twelve years old. She was still his little girl, and she hadn’t truly come into her own yet. And Ed Gallimore was the proudest man in Kansas for the evening.
Linking her arm through his, January said, “I would be honored, Daddy.”
Everyone congregated at the Gallimore house that night for one last dinner with January. As she looked around the living room, January vowed to set some guidelines in her life. Regardless of whom she dated or what was going on, she still had traditions to fulfill on the farm. She planned to attend as many holidays and celebrations as she possibly could. None of them were getting any younger. She’d missed time with her parents, birthdays with the kids and a million milestones in between. The man she chose to be in her life would have to understand—and be required to go home with her whenever her heart desired.
Outside, her father invited her to sit at his small iron table that seated only two. Usually, Aurora held that spot. When he had some trouble with the wine cork, January offered to step in.
“Can’t even make scrambled eggs, but you can open a bottle of wine,” Ed said, but she could hear the humor in his undertones.
“Nigel’s mother actually taught me how to make crepes,” she told him. “I’m not so bad, you know…”
“Nigel, Nigel, Nigel…” her father said as she filled their glasses. “I’m hearing a lot about him—from you and from your mother.”
“He’s a good guy, Daddy,” she assured him. “Maybe you can talk to him one of these days. Mom’s planning on keeping up with him when I leave.”
Sliding his glass across the table, January waited. She wondered if he’d even tried the wine before, but she guessed that h
e hadn’t.
“You first, Jan,” he insisted. “I want you to show me what to do with this stuff. I know you don’t just pour and gulp.”
“Oh, you can do that if you’ve had a bad day,” she laughed, and Ed actually joined in with her. “Now, swirl it and sniff it…”
“Smell it?” Ed seemed to be losing patience already. “Goodness, Jan. This is work. What am I smelling for?”
“The notes, Daddy. Fruits, florals—the tastes and the scents within the wine.”
Lifting the glass to his nose, Ed grasped the stem delicately between his thumb and forefinger. He watched every move his daughter made. “Doesn’t smell like whiskey.”
“Okay, we’re getting somewhere here!” January said with some relief. “Then take one sip and let it sit in your mouth for a moment before you swallow.” As she instructed, her father followed. And then he paused.
“You can swallow now, Daddy.”
“Well…” Ed minded the glass with some interest, and then he took a bigger sip. “Alright…this stuff isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
“I bet you’d love red wine, but Charlie’s starting with white for now.”
Ed’s large presence leaned over the table as he opened his eyes wide. “You mean I have to learn all this stuff over again when he makes the red?”
“Same process—just different notes. And eventually, you’ll figure out what you like and what you don’t like. Let’s stick to Chardonnay for now.”
For a moment, Ed lost himself in the view of the farm, and January followed his gaze—from the vineyards on the farm’s edge to the fields of vegetable crops to the orchard.
“You planted an apple tree every time mom brought one of us home,” January said as she placed her chin on her father’s shoulder.
“For the grandkids, too,” he told her. “Do you think they remember—or care?”
“Lucie does,” January assured him. “I took her out to the grove the other day, and she blamed her dad for never telling her that she had her very own tree.”
“Maybe I need to have a word with your brothers then,” Ed reflected. “Lucie really took a liking to you…”
SMITTEN (Paris Après Minuit) Page 40