by Susan Finlay
“You get fired?”
“No. Just—it’s complicated. I’d rather not talk about it.”
She pursed her lips, but didn’t ask more. After a few moments of silence, she nodded and said, “I used to be a dancer and an actress. Performed in plays, mostly musicals. Traveled, and worked one engagement after another, until one day I decided to take a break. Needed time for myself. I’ve never regretted that decision. Just wish I could have stayed young and done more.”
Josh nodded. Changing the subject, wanting to understand what was expected of him, he asked, “What do you need me to do for you? Am I a handyman or a caregiver?”
“Both.” She seemed to be waiting for a reaction, but he kept his expression blank. “Are you all right with that?”
“Hmm. I guess so. As long as I don’t have to give you baths.” Josh felt his face turn red, realizing that he had actually said that out loud. “Then you probably should have hired a handywoman.”
She laughed. “Now where would the fun be in that? Non, I’m happy with you, young man. You’re strong enough to get work done and to lift me up if I fall, but you’re also pleasing to my old eyes. And you seem to have honesty and a good sense of humor. All I ask is that you don’t run off and leave me, all right?”
That reminded him that he still needed to verify some information about her.
She stared into his eyes, pleading with him, and he resisted the urge to look away.
“I don’t have anyone else,” she whispered.
“I’ll stay.” He would have to talk to Veronique and find out what she knows about Paulette’s illness. Soon as he could get away for a while. “What’s my first task?”
“Well, seeing as how you met our other residents already, maybe you can buy some mousetraps and set them around the house. Oh, and would you go to the bakery and buy me some pastries? I haven’t had a good chocolate éclair in ages.”
“Yep. I’ll get right on that.”
CHAPTER FOUR
JOSH REMEMBERED SEEING the bakery yesterday, and had no trouble finding it again, as it was across the street from the alimentation generale. Standing outside the bakery, Josh peered through the window and was immediately angry, all his troubles returning. Staring through the window at him was a huge wedding cake. He wanted to scream. Was someone trying to punish him? He closed his fists, tightened them, and reopened them, trying to calm himself. Better get this over with. When he opened the door, bells jingled, alerting the clerk who looked up from the cake she was working on. “Uh, bonjour,” he said. “Parlez-vous anglais?”
The clerk, a pretty young woman with dark brown hair, shoulder-length, and a bit of flour on her cheeks stared at him a moment. “I do. But it . . . my English is not perfect.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I’m sure it’s tons better than my French.”
She smiled, lighting up the room.
Realizing he was staring, he averted his eyes and said, “Uh, well, Paulette Lapierre sent me over here to buy some chocolate éclairs. She says you make them.”
“Why did she not come here herself?”
“She’s—” He hesitated. This might be a chance to find out what the locals knew about Paulette. “She hired me to help her with things around the house. Guess I’m her handyman. Do you know Paulette?”
“Ah, I heard she was looking for someone. Oui. I know her. She comes in often. Not as much now, I mean since her . . . how you say . . . cures failed.” She blushed and waved her hand, apparently upset that she was struggling with English.
He understood that feeling. “Then you know about her illness?”
She nodded. “I offered to help her, but . . . well, I recently had a death in the family. She didn’t want me to have to . . . .”
“Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss. I can see why she wouldn’t want to put you through that again.”
Quickly averting any discussion about an obviously sensitive subject she asked, “How many éclairs do you want?”
“Uh, I’m not sure. She didn’t say.”
She grabbed a piece of cardboard and swiftly built it into a box, then reached into the display area and took out four éclairs. “Two for each of you, unless you do not like.”
Josh smiled and shrugged. “That works for me. Thanks.”
As she folded the box closed, Josh noticed her slim fingers and lack of a wedding ring. His attention moved up to her face again. Young, but he couldn’t guess her age. She had pretty brown eyes accentuated by long lashes, delicate nose and mouth, creamy peach complexion. Not the stunning fashion model that Vanessa was—most women paled by comparison—but he had to admit this woman could fit into one those commercials he often saw on television for make-up. Of course she had to lose the flour on her cheek; he smiled inwardly at the idle thought. She might not be married, but with looks like hers, she most definitely must have a boyfriend. Then he remembered she’d had a death in the family. Maybe her husband? But would she stop wearing a ring so soon?
“Anything else?”
Josh, pulled out of his thoughts, said, “Huh? Oh, I guess I’d like a dozen of those chocolates.” He pointed to a dish of dark chocolates and then one of milk chocolates.”
“A dozen of each?”
“Uh, no. Half of each. Sorry.”
She nodded and scooped up the sweets.
“Do you make those yourself?”
“Oui. I learned from my parents. This was their shop when I was young.”
“Hey, the dark chocolates match your hair color and the milk chocolates match your eye color. You probably hear that all the time.”
“Non.” Her eyes darkened slightly and she didn’t smile. Instead, she gave him the price and handed him the box, then held out her hand to accept payment.
“Sorry if I offended you,” he said as he dug out the money from his pocket and handed it to her. “I didn’t mean anything. Just an observation. Always sticking my foot in my mouth.”
She nodded and said, “Au revoir.”
What the hell did he do wrong? Then it hit him—she probably thought he was hitting on her. Well, he wasn’t. He had a fiancé. He stopped in his tracks. He did have a fiancé. Past tense. Even if he could forgive Vanessa, which he wasn’t sure he could, he didn’t know if he wanted her back.
He opened the door to the alimentation generale and saw Veronique finishing up with a customer. “Good morning,” he said as soon as her customer left. Do you have a minute?”
“Sure. How are you doing with Paulette? Is she driving you crazy?”
“Huh? No. It’s okay, so far.” He hesitated, unsure how to ask what he wanted to know. “How long has she been sick? Do you know what’s wrong with her?”
“She has cancer of the lungs. The doctors took out part of one lung. Gave her chemotherapy. The cancer seems to grow like the weeds in a garden.”
“That’s sad. I was afraid to ask her. Didn’t want to upset her. Do you think she wants to talk about it, or should I avoid the subject?”
“Paulette will talk about it when she’s ready. Wait for her to bring it up.”
“Thanks. I’m new to this.”
She patted him on the arm. “Paulette can be difficult. I wish you luck.”
“Doesn’t she have any family? Children? She said no, but I’m not convinced.”
“I can’t say. Perhaps she’ll open up more when she knows you better.”
He sighed. “I hope you’re right.” He turned to leave, and then remembered the other items on his list. “Oh. Can you point me to where I can find mousetraps, nightlights, and a digital clock?”
Back at the troglo, Josh set the box of sweets down on the table and the bag with the other items on the floor, then wondered where Paulette was. The house was quiet—too quiet. He rushed up the stairs, half expecting to find her lifeless body on her bed. She wasn’t there.
He took the stairs back down two at a time and searched the rest of the house. No one anywhere in the house. Outside he didn’t see her, either. Why would s
he send him into town and then leave?
“Allo! You’re back.”
Josh turned toward the voice. Paulette stepped out from behind one of the piles of rubbish, holding a small stack of boards. Thin as a rail, dressed in baggy pants and blouse, her hair covered with a faded scarf tied under her chin, she reminded him of a photo he’d seen of refugees during World War II.
“I thought we could make a fire in the fireplace tonight.”
“You shouldn’t be doing that, Paulette. It’s my job, remember?” He reached out and took the wood from her arms. A big spider jumped off, startling Josh. He almost dropped the wood.
Paulette didn’t notice. She was bent slightly, one hand on her leg to brace herself, and was having some difficulty catching her breath.
“Your goodies are on the dining table. I’ll meet you inside.”
She looked up at him and nodded, looking considerably better than a moment ago.
After she disappeared into the house, he set the wood down and picked through it, making sure he wasn’t carrying any nasty spiders or other vermin. On his way back to the troglo he’d seen a snake and a lizard. The lizard was cute, not so much the snake. He’d overheard some locals talking about bats in the area, too. This job’s gonna be a handful, he thought.
He stood up, carrying the new bundle of wood, and stared at the rest of the junk. He decided that after he set up the mousetraps and tended to whatever Paulette wanted him to do, he would come back out here and sort through this mess. With that thought, he re-entered the house.
“You bought me chocolates! What a dear boy you are. I can’t remember the last time someone did that for me.”
Josh smiled and sat down at the dining table beside Paulette. He’d dropped off the wood next to the fireplace moments earlier. “Glad you like them.”
“You’re going to eat some, too, aren’t you?”
He didn’t answer but reached across the table, picked up a dark chocolate, and popped it into his mouth. It practically melted. “Oh, my God,” he mumbled. “Mmm, this is the best I’ve ever had.”
“You should tell Isabelle. She’ll be delighted.”
“Isabelle? Oh, you mean the bakery clerk.”
“She’s not a clerk. She owns the shop. Don’t call her a clerk. That would not be wise.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.”
She tilted her head. “What?”
“Heads-up means tip or advice.”
“Ah. I guess, as they say, you’re never too old to learn something new. Americans speak a different language than the Brits.” Her eyes twinkled. “I fell in love with a Brit once, back when I was young. I must have been around forty-five. Back then, I thought I was old.” She chuckled. “Didn’t realize I was really just getting started.” She shook her head. “He was such a good looking man, like you but even taller. He was too stuffy, though.” Paulette scrunched up her face. “That’s why we parted.”
“Do you ever hear from him?”
“Non, but I heard from a mutual friend that he married a couple of years later. Many paths we might have taken, each of us. Is there a right path or a wrong one? I can’t say.”
Josh thought about Vanessa, his job at the bank, going back home to the U.S., which was what everyone expected him to do. But what about what he wanted to do? Were they the same things? He no longer knew the answer.
“You married someone else?”
“I married once, when I was young. It worked for a while. What about you?”
He shrugged and popped another chocolate into his mouth.
She did the same.
After he finished his chocolate, he asked, “What’s on the agenda for today? Besides the mousetraps.”
“Can you help me clean up the living room and do some laundry?”
He looked over her shoulder at the messy living room, the stacks of clothes, and sighed, imagining several mice were hiding under all that stuff. The snake he’d seen on the trail came to mind, too, giving him the willies.
Four hours later, Josh took a break and walked back into town to find food for himself and Paulette. He stopped first at the hardware store on the main street and bought a wheelbarrow, heavy work gloves, a shovel, an ax, nails, screws, various hand tools—cutters, hammers, screwdrivers, pliers, drill, and then picked up some take-out food. As he pushed the loaded cart up the steep path, he stopped occasionally to wipe sweat off his forehead. Gonna get enough exercise on this job, he mused. Of course it was the hottest day since his arrival in France. No breeze. No clouds.
After lunch, Paulette fell asleep on the sofa.
Josh covered her with a lightweight throw blanket, then put on his work gloves and baseball cap and went outside to work on the junk piles. He’d already placed the shovel and ax next to the wood. Only one mouse had run out from under the clothes in the living room. He might be wrong, but he suspected he would hit the mother lode of critters out here. All the more reason to keep the shovel and ax nearby.
Selecting the sturdiest large boards, he built a large storage bin to hold the stockpile of boards. He sorted through the other boards, cutting the larger pieces to fit into the holding box. Numerous mice and a one lizard darted in random directions as he worked.
When he finished, he moved to the other pile and pulled a tire loose from the rubble. A low growl made him stumble backward quickly. What the hell was that? A wolf? Did they have wolves in this part of France?
He picked up the shovel and stepped forward, poking at the pile and prepared to use the shovel as a weapon if necessary. Another growl. Creeping around the corner, he peered closer, then poked with the shovel again. A large dog leapt toward him, out from under a hollow, teeth bared. “Whoa, take it easy. I’m not going to hurt you.” Did the dog understand? He tried it again in his awkward French.
The dog closed its mouth and backed up.
It was then that Josh heard whining coming from the rubble. The dog heard it, too, and hurried toward the sound. Puppies? Oh my God. She’s hiding in there with her brood. He squatted down and leaned his head forward, trying to get a look. Too dark. He rushed into the house and found the flashlight he’d used while setting out the mousetraps. Opening the refrigerator, he spied some leftover lunchmeat and cheese. He grabbed them and headed outside.
Shining the light into the pile, Josh could make out at least two puppies. The mother dog stared at him, but didn’t growl this time.
He held out the meat in his hand, making sure the dog saw it, then set it down on the ground. Moving backwards a few feet, he waited.
The dog hesitated, a hungry look in her eyes. After a few moments she crept forward, sniffed at the meat, then practically inhaled it. She raised her head slightly and stared at Josh, fear mixed with interest in her eyes.
He held out his hand with the cheese in his palm.
She sat on her haunches, licking her chops, hesitating.
Josh made a soft cooing sound, hoping that was something she would understand.
Slowly, she edged forward and then gingerly took the proffered cheese from his open hand. With Josh’s other hand, he carefully reached out and petted the dog’s head. A Golden Retriever, he thought. Hard to tell for sure with her matted fur and all the dirt covering her.
After finishing the cheese, she licked his hand and then his face, her tail wagging.
Looks like I’ve made a friend.
Sitting down on the ground, Josh studied the momma dog. Would she let him move toward her puppies? An old mattress leaning across the junk pile looked unstable. If it fell down, it could crush the puppies. Better get them out before he continued his task.
Sweating and tired, Josh entered the troglo to get a drink of water for himself and a water dish for the rescued dogs, careful not to make noise and awaken Paulette since she was still asleep on the sofa.
“Oh, there you are. I must have nodded off. How long was I asleep?”
Josh swiveled on his heel near the entrance to the kitchen. “Not sure. Maybe two hours. Sorry
to wake you.” He hesitated, then said, “Hey, how do you feel about dogs?”
“Dogs? Hmm. I don’t know. Why do you ask that?”
“Well, I found a mother dog and three puppies living in the middle of . . . well, among the stuff outside your troglo. I think they’re Golden Retrievers. At least the mother is. The pups might be mixed breed. I don’t know what to do with them. They’re friendly.”
“That’s who has been eating the scraps I throw out? I thought it was raccoons.” She giggled. “Well, bring them inside. I want to see them.”
Josh smiled. He’d hoped she would say that. He rushed outside and returned a couple minutes later with the animals. The mother dog’s toe-nails clicked on the tile floor as she walked over to the sofa where Paulette sat.
Paulette reached down with one hand and called the dog over. As she stroked the dirty fur, she said, “I think I may know her. An old man who lived up here in another troglo died several months ago. I’m pretty sure this was his dog. His place is vacant, but closed up.”
“And no one took the dog? No family or friends?”
“The poor thing,” Paulette said. “How horrible to get tossed away. Well, she has a home now.”
“What happens to her when—” Josh stopped.
“When I’m gone, you can find homes for her and the pups.”
Josh didn’t answer. She hadn’t asked him if he would find them homes. It was more of a statement of fact. He supposed he could find someone to take them. He certainly couldn’t take them back to the states with him. It might be possible that the airlines would let him travel with the dogs in pet carriers, but Vanessa would never agree to keeping dogs in their apartment.
What the . . ., why am I still thinking of marrying her after what she did? Must be crazy.
He set down the three squirming puppies before they fell out of his arms. They ran around the room, exploring and romping.