Opposites Attack: A Novel with Recipes Provencal

by Jo Maeder

  “The tile work is magnificent,” Liliane interjected. Their eyes roamed over the floor, walls, and ceiling. All agreed it was gorgeous. “It was done by one of the best Italian masons, an admirer of my brother’s work. Jean-Luc designed the tiles. You would spend a fortune to have it done today.”

  Glorianna headed out of the crowded room and haughtily decreed, “Unique or unusual is another way of saying will hurt the resale value.”

  Alyce could see Liliane’s temper beginning to flare. Was she cursing her eccentric brother or this monstrous American woman?

  And who said anything about reselling?

  “I looooove the French!” squealed Luther as he lingered in the bathroom.

  Alyce feared she would hear him say that another hundred times before they left.

  The warm summer evening fell comfortably upon them. Jean-Luc found it hard to concentrate on what these imbeciles were blathering on about as they enjoyed the cheese and rosé wine he served at the long outdoor table. He felt like he was center stage at a Greek theater and the cicadas were the chiding, opinionated chorus.

  He threw clumps of wild rosemary, thyme, and white sage on the outdoor fireplace and watched Alyce make a mental note of the practice when he explained to her that it perfumed the air, stimulated the appetite, and calmed the spirit. Nelson had impressed him by picking up a dry New Zealand sauvignon blanc that was superb in its grassiness and the perfect complement to the grilled artichokes, which can wreak havoc with many wines because of a compound called cynarin, which tends to make wine taste sweeter. He did not voice any of this to his guests. He was tired of hearing himself pontificating like a bag of hot air.

  He tried not to watch how sensuously Alyce ate her artichoke as she delicately dipped the leaf in lemon-butter sauce and slowly pulled her teeth over its spongy meat.

  Glorianna had undoubtedly had a facelift under her several coats of makeup, and Botox injections. There was a shimmery quality to the upper half of her face, as though the nozzle of a pump had been inserted in the top of her head and had injected the air only so far.

  Luther, he mused, was like a character who was used to walking out of a gay bar on a Saturday night without successfully picking up anyone.

  And Nelson? He wasn’t sure about him. He didn’t want to like him, so it was clouding his judgment. He seemed nice enough. Jean-Luc just didn’t see Alyce with him, or at least happy with him for long. Then again, she was so practical and hell bent on snaring the bourgeois dream.

  Liliane effortlessly turned on the French charm, her years of dealing with Americans an asset. “Have you ever lived abroad?” she asked Glorianna.

  The Grand Dame recalled living in London “when I was an unmarried filly.”

  Luther concurred. “I’ve seen photos. Va-va-voom!”

  Glorianna lightly tapped his arm. “Oh, stop, Luther.” She gave Jean-Luc a flirtatious eye-bat.

  Jean-Luc held in a laugh by pinching the skin between his thumb and index finger. He could always spot a woman who hadn’t been made love to properly in years. She was also probably trying to butter him up for the kill at the bargaining table.

  He wished the cheese had been laced with cyanide instead of sage.

  “Time for the bouillabaisse,” he said, “Provence style.”

  Nelson, with his arm over the back of Alyce’s chair, said, “Now this is what I call living.” He gave her a light kiss on her neck that she relished.

  Jean-Luc’s appetite was rapidly decreasing.

  After everyone was served, Jean-Luc recited his instructions on the ritual of eating this classic French fish stew. “Place two slices of toasted French bread rubbed with garlic on the bottom of a pure white soup bowl. White does not compete with the food. You may also keep the bread to the side if you like to… what is your word? Dunk. Then add a spoonful or two of rouille made with roasted red peppers, olive oil, garlic, and…” He looked to Alyce to finish.

  “Potato, bread, or bread crumbs to thicken it.”

  It filled him with pride to hear her remember his words.

  “Next we add the broth and then the seafood.”

  When that was done, Glorianna lifted her wine glass. In her best Julia Child voice she sang out, “Bon appétit!”

  Aside from the sounds of spoons against bowls, lips smacking, and gentle moaning, a silence—finally—fell over the table. He looked over at Alyce and was momentarily transported by her loveliness.

  Until he caught Nelson watching him, none too pleased.

  Conversation danced among many topics. He was displeased to discover Nelson was not the dolt he thought he would be, especially about wine. Frequently, Jean-Luc would speak to Alyce in French out of habit. She would start to respond, then stop, sensitive to Nelson being left out. Jean-Luc could not believe how far she had come with her French since her arrival. And how careful she was not to bruise Nelson’s ego. She certainly didn’t care about bruising his!

  He considered staying for the entertainment he was sure the Mansfield Mafia would bring. He also felt protective of Alyce. She had bottomless reserves of determination but lacked guile. He feared she was walking into a venomous snake pit. When he saw how happy she was with this man, something shifted.

  He took a few more bites and made an announcement. “As much as I am enjoying your company, I must pack for my trip. I will be away for a few days on business.” Liliane and Alyce eyed him curiously. “Al-ees, Nelson, enjoy your time here.”

  There were polite protests that he stay. He bid them “bonne nuit” and within 30 minutes was on the highway, Didon by his side. That is after Alyce confronted him as he was heading out the front door. “I thought you didn’t drive.”

  “Of course I can. I just wanted to see how well you did.”

  Cue the eye roll.

  If all went as he anticipated, letting Alyce and Nelson live there alone at the height of their passion would forever enamor them to his property.

  If this was what she desired, even if it was a mistake, he wanted her to have it.

  19

  The Talk

  The instant Glorianna and Luther were dropped off at the Hôtel Marlaison that night, Alyce and Nelson couldn’t wait to get back in the saddle at the cottage. He reached for her hand as he drove his rented BMW convertible over the speed limit.

  “I’m going to love every inch of you,” he said.

  “I’m going to love every inch of you, but…” She had his full attention. “I screwed up on my birth control pills. I picked up condoms just to be safe. I’ll be on track in a couple of weeks.”

  He let go of her hand. Her heart ker-flunked. Despite his remark about having her own babies, it was too soon to actually do it.

  “I thought you wanted to be a mother,” he said in a nonthreatening way.

  “Yes, when I’m married.”

  He glanced at her and smiled. “If you get pregnant, you will not be an unwed mother. You have my word.”

  Now her heart ker-flunked so much in the other direction that they drove right by the road they needed to take.

  Once they turned around, she said, “There’s something I’ve been wondering about. Your mom and Luther are so chummy. Are you sure he’s gay?”

  “If it’s an act, it’s a damn good one.”

  “Your father doesn’t mind?”

  “Not at all. Luther does everything with her he won’t.”

  “That’s not a marriage I’d ever want to be in.”

  He reached for her hand again and gave her a reassuring, “Neither would I.”

  They entered the dirt road leading to Jean-Luc’s and Nelson slowed to a stop. “Look at these fields of lavender and sunflowers in the moonlight, Ally. Pure magic.”

  As she watched him gawk in awe as though they were a fine work of art (as she had done many times), all that went through her mind was what a wonderful husband and father he would be; how perfect they were together.

  At the cottage, they made love (au naturel) with an intensity she
had never known with him. She made him laugh, and climax, when she said, “I’m sending your therapist a thank you card.”

  Just as she was on the verge of crashing through to that state of tension-free pure bliss, his phone rang.

  It was Carmelita, enraged over a neighborhood kid knocking out one of Junior’s teeth. Nelson did his best to calm her down, though he was upset, too. That wasn’t a baby tooth.

  This was hardly the first time Junior had been in a fight or caused trouble. Nelson went into the bathroom to pee and talk in hushed tones. Even though Alyce’s eyelids suddenly felt like the steel doors of a vault about to shut, Why is he whispering? crept into her brain. She thought she’d made peace with those gremlins.

  “I’m sorry,” he said after the call. “Where were we?”

  “It’s okay, honey,” she said, snuggling into her pillow. “It’s been a really long day for both of us. Let’s save it for the morning.”

  They started kissing again. The morning was too far away.

  “Just do me a favor, sweetie,” she said. “Turn off your phone.”

  The four Americans met Pauline at the Hôtel Marlaison the next morning. Alyce felt guilty about leaving her out of a commission on Jean-Luc’s property, especially after he said, “She’s going through a bitter divorce. She needs all the sales she can get.”

  Pauline, naturally, did everything she could to present the other properties in the best light. Alyce cringed every time Glorianna said “M’as tu vu” when she liked something and Pauline gave her a strange look.

  Glorianna narrowed the choices to three. Jean-Luc’s was, by far, the best value but would involve the most work and money to get it up to speed.

  Alyce had a sick feeling when Glorianna and Nelson presented Jean-Luc with a lowball offer. It worsened as she realized what a pickle she was in. On the one hand, if she married Nelson, it would benefit them to get it for as little as possible. On the other, she wanted Jean-Luc to make as much as he could.

  Jean-Luc and Liliane refused to drop the price one Euro.

  When she and Nelson rejoined Glorianna and Luther on the Avenue Gambetta to shop and stroll, Alyce ramped up her sales pitch of why they should offer the asking price. She painted a mental picture of all that could be done to the house and grounds. She described a gift shop, wine tastings, and an outdoor café. She used her skills in media buying to do a cost analysis of the three properties.

  “And it has one thing the other properties don’t have and never will,” Alyce said, businesslike. “Jean-Luc’s celebrity. Great writers are revered here.”

  Glorianna tapped her bun-head. “You’ve never renovated a house, much less all that this will entail.”

  Alyce pulled herself up straight the way Jean-Luc did when he was offended, and almost punched the air with her finger the way he did. “If I can learn French, I can do anything!”

  “Yes, I can see—oh, no! Ugh!”

  Glorianna noticed a squashed date stuck to the sole of her expensive shoes. She stood looking helplessly at Nelson and Luther, who had no idea what to do. Alyce reached in her purse and pulled out a piece of paper from the small notepad she kept in it. Luther did the honors. Catastrophe averted.

  There were frequent, highly unpleasant flare-ups between Nelson and his mother. Just as Alyce was thinking, Can I stand this woman for the rest of my life? Nelson privately patted her tummy and said with a grin, “Wonder if there’s a croissant in the oven?”

  Glorianna who?

  At another point, when Glorianna was out of earshot, he said, “Now you know why mother-in-law jokes exist.”

  Yes, she thought, she had plenty of company.

  At the end of another tiring day, Glorianna announced, “Luther and I are renting a car, taking a little road trip, spending a few days in Paree, and returning for the grand finale.”

  Alyce looked at Nelson.

  He cleared his throat. “She means to finalize the paperwork on what we decide to buy.”

  His mother pulled him aside. They huddled in whispers. Luther walked over to a store window and pretended to browse as he whistled. Something was up.

  Nelson came back, cleared his throat again. “Uh, she’d like to talk to you in private. Why don’t you two have a drink before dinner? I’m still jetlagged, honey. I’ll go up to her room and try to rest. Call me when you’re done.”

  She did not have a good feeling.

  The two of them spotted a place they’d been to before that Glorianna deemed perfect. When they went inside, the owner rushed up and said in fairly good English that they could only sit outside.

  Glorianna surveyed the restaurant. “There are plenty of seats here.”

  He said, as if he were paying her the highest compliment, “Madame, only wild beasts mark their territory with an odor as strong as yours.”

  Alyce clamped her hand to her mouth in shock.

  “I refuse to patronize this unimpressive establishment!” She pulled Alyce away.

  “Thank you, Madame,” replied the proprietor with a slight bow.

  Alyce couldn’t wait to report this exchange back to Nelson. And Jean-Luc. She could hear that blast of a laugh of his. She missed it, too.

  They found another café and sat outside. “It’s too beautiful a day to stay inside,” Glorianna stated.

  She ordered sparkling water with Angostura bitters and convinced Alyce to try it when she said, “It aids the digestion.”

  As soon as the waiter walked away, Glorianna said, “You certainly have transformed yourself, Alyce.”

  “I must thank you for encouraging it.”

  “Mr. Broussard is quite an attractive man, in that tortured artist way.”

  Alyce wondered if Glorianna was interested in him. “I suppose he is to some women, but you’ll have a lot of competition.”

  “Me?” She patted her bun. “Are you sure he hasn’t turned your head?”

  She let out a yelp of surprise. “Not at all!”

  The interrogation continued, slowly twisting into Alyce like a screwdriver. “You have quite a cozy arrangement, I would say.”

  She looked her right in the eye. “He’s been very helpful to me as far as my French goes, but to him I’m a gauche American. He only puts up with me for the money I bring in. Is there a reason why you’re saying this? I’m only interested in Nelson.”

  “Speak from the heart, Alyce. No pretense, please. Why do you love him?”

  Alyce confessed that the day she saw his name on Bernadette’s appointment list, she had “a special feeling.” When she saw him, it was even stronger. She repeated how he ignored her and how, she was certain, fate had put them together.

  She felt like a beauty pageant contestant with 30 seconds to speak to prove she was worthy of the crown. From the look on Glorianna’s face, she had passed that test.

  Their drinks arrived and Glorianna was not happy to see there was no ice in her glass—the way drinks were usually served. Alyce had grown accustomed to it but sweetly asked the waiter, in French, to bring them some in another glass.

  That taken care of, Glorianna smiled with approval. “Are you sure you want to marry Nelson?”

  “Only if he wants to marry me.”

  “Of course he wants to.”

  The golden gong was struck. “He told you this?”

  Glorianna answered with a smile. She sipped her drink and the sun glanced off several diamond rings. She felt Alyce out on what she wanted from life. How important was her career?

  “I’ve had enough of the world of advertising,” Alyce said. “Owning a vineyard and having children with the man I love would be a dream come true.”

  Would Alyce raise the children Episcopalian?

  “I was brought up Methodist, but I don’t belong to a church. Sure.”

  “How do you feel about private education and sending the children to prep school when they’re of age?”

  “Uh, haven’t thought about that.” She almost asked if she had their children’s names picked ou
t.

  “Just think about it.” She shook more ice into her glass. “Now, let’s talk about You-know-who. I don’t understand how you put up with her and that surly boy, but I’m grateful you do. Unless you intend for that to change in the future.”

  Alyce took a moment to collect her thoughts. “Of course I’d prefer if she wasn’t in the picture, but Nelson loves his son. I admire him for that.”

  She caught Glorianna’s light lick of the rim of her glass before sipping her water. She had told Alyce once that was her secret for keeping lipstick from appearing on the glass and disappearing from her lips.

  “Once you have children, won’t the time he spends with them bother you?”

  “If he’s over here and they’re over there, when will he even see them? Before you know it, Junior will be a teenager and in his own world. Or maybe he’ll like having half-siblings and come visit in the summer.”

  “Kids today are so progressive.”

  “With all due respect, he is your grandson.”

  Her eyes flashed. “He was conceived with pure evil on the part of that woman. And believe me, he’s cost us plenty. That’s enough recognition.”

  She waited until Mrs. Mansfield did another lick-and-sip to say, “So I guess Carmelita won’t be the maid of honor and Junior the ring bearer?”

  She sputtered so much that Alyce had to say, “Just kidding!”

  When she could speak again, “That wasn’t funny. Now on to my next topic. Do you have any objections to a prenuptial agreement?”

  That question she had thoroughly considered. It came up with her sister, who signed one before she married. At the time Alyce thought it unromantic and crass, but Chantilly said it protected her as much as him. “Better to negotiate when you’re in love than when you’re not.”

  “Not at all,” Alyce answered Glorianna. “Of course, I’d have a lawyer look it over.”

  “Of course. Now is there anything you’d like to ask me?”

  Without hesitation, she fired off, “Does Nelson truly love me?”