by Jo Maeder
35
An Offer She Can Refuse
Alyce’s low mood sank again when she entered her last class and saw a stack of beautifully wrapped presents on the table. She had to let them know the wedding was off. In French, of course.
When everyone was seated, she stood up. “Before we begin, I have some news. I am no longer engaged.” After the murmurs subsided, she motioned to the table, “I am very happy I’m not marrying him, but I appreciate your thoughtfulness and hope you can return what you bought.”
Claire stepped forward. “Since you say you are happy about this, Al-ees, would you object to opening the champagne?”
You have to love the French.
In no time, Alyce the raconteur was standing in front of the room revealing the broad strokes of what happened (minus the swearing, and her ectopic pregnancy that she wasn’t ready to talk about).
Claire said, “We are always weak when we are in love.”
When she reached the fight that followed the Moment of Truth, the class laughed and laughed. She laughed as well. At last.
Liliane poked her head in the classroom door. “I cannot say that I was upset when I heard the news.” She invited the class to come to the cafeteria for a surprise.
When they walked into the large room, thunderous applause erupted. Alyce didn’t know why until she saw in big letters on a banner: FÉLICITATIONS ALYCE!
She spotted her first hosts, the elderly farm couple Fabien and Fabienne, followed by Solange the widow and Philippe the dancer, and the Devreauxs, all smiling and clapping with the highest regard for her.
With a microphone in hand, Liliane said, “Thank you for coming today to honor Al-ees Donovan, who arrived three months ago and came close to leaving us rather quickly.” Everyone chuckled until Liliane said with an approving smile, “But she did not leave. She did not give up. She was determined to master French like no student before her. Al-ees, you are a role model now.” Alyce hung her head in a mixture of embarrassment and pride. “And I think you would be a spectacular teacher to beginning English-speaking students. When can you start?”
More applause rose around her.
“Me teach here?” Tears of joy were unstoppable. It was the biggest compliment anyone could ever pay her.
Someone whispered in her ear, “Even I think you would be an excellent teacher.”
In a beige suit and white shirt, the clean-shaven, closely cropped Jean-Luc was très debonair.
“You cut your hair! It looks great, Jean-Luc.”
“Will you accept the position, Al-ees?” asked Liliane.
She took the microphone and said with a French accent, “But, of course!”
After mingling with admirers she didn’t know she had, and apologizing profusely to her former hosts for behavior they now found amusing, Jean-Luc held out his hand.
“Let us go for a drive and discuss your future.”
She bid adieu to all with lots of cheek-kisses, even Julien.
“You are a bad boy,” she whispered.
He shrugged. “Not all the time. I am a good bad boy.”
“Then you’ll be a great writer one day.”
Her last stop was Liliane. “I know I said yes to your offer, but I was in a state of shock. I need to think about it.”
She smiled with complete assurance that she would not change her mind.
As they drove off, Jean-Luc said, “Look in the glove compartment for an envelope. I am giving you what I would have paid Pauline for finding a buyer—”
“Stop!”
“—I am also paying you back for your expenditures as promised and throwing in extra for helping with my memoir proposal.”
“You already did that.”
“Raymond has sold it for a staggering amount of money. Between that and the sale of the house, I am in very good shape right now.”
“That’s great about the memoir, but there you go again being too generous. You have to think of yourself, Jean-Luc.”
His voice was soft when he said, “I am going to write about Colette. I must do it. You deserve a million Euros for lessening that pain.”
“It wasn’t me. You were ready to let it go.”
“You’re being too self-deprecating, Al-ees. You need to think more about yourself, too.”
She opened the envelope. There was a check from Jean-Luc for €100,000.
“Jean-Luc!”
“Liliane thinks that is fair. I do not wish to hear another word of protest.”
She was still stunned by his gesture when they pulled up to the storefront of a real estate agency, its window filled with pictures of properties. Alyce had walked by it many times and studied the photos, longing to buy one. With all that money in her hand, a wave of temptation to buy her own place rushed in.
No, no, no. That was crazy.
“The Mansfields do not want the property and offered to sell it back to me,” Jean-Luc said. “I am not interested. I have moved on in my head and my heart. Pauline is their broker so she will make her commission after all.”
Alyce liked that he was concerned she got something out of the deal.
“If you are up to it, will you look at properties with me? I value your sensible opinion.” He held her hand with both of his. They were as warm as ever. “You need to put your mind off recent events.”
“No kidding. Let me pop a painkiller and I’m ready.”
Pauline’s first words were, “You look handsome with your new look, Jean-Luc.”
“You can thank Al-ees for that.”
She curtailed her flattery.
He had narrowed his property search to the following criteria: view of the Mediterranean, enough land to give him total privacy, at least four bedrooms, no swimming pool, a large kitchen and a price tag not one penny over €500,000.
Alyce knew this wasn’t going well when he said, “Let’s see the rest of it” and Pauline said, “There is no rest.”
“Don’t even bother showing me the others. I’ll go to 700.”
Alyce didn’t hide her groan of disapproval. He was going to be broke again. He really needed someone he could trust to manage his money.
Pauline hopped on her phone to line up more viewings as Alyce and Jean-Luc waited in her car.
“Pauline is looking happy these days,” he said. “A most seductive quality.” He ran his hands through his new short haircut. “I cannot get used to this.”
“Neither can I. If you’d like me to leave you two alone, that’s fine.”
“She is not nearly as seductive as you, Al-ees. There is not a trace of stress on your face.”
“Wait until the painkiller wears off.”
As Pauline came toward them, Alyce noticed that she walked like a woman sprouting wings that had been previously clipped. From knowing Jean-Luc, Alyce was starting to see life through the eyes of a writer. It was richer, more interesting. Certainly never dull.
Two hours and five houses later, nothing was close to promising. The last one was 20 minutes outside of town.
Alyce awoke from a nap to hear Jean-Luc warily ask, “What is the story on this one?”
“I saved it for last since it is in the opposite direction of the other houses. With four hectares, it is too much land for most private owners and not enough for commercial purposes.”
“Tell me its story,” asked Jean-Luc.
“A British couple used it as their vacation home. The husband died in the U.K. after a long illness. The wife is highly motivated to sell. She hasn’t been here in a year. She said it was meant to be enjoyed by lovers. It would not be the same without him. They had been high school sweethearts.”
“Ahhhh,” was all Jean-Luc replied.
“The price has just dropped.”
As the houses became sparser and farms became more frequent, he approved. “I am looking for serenity the moment I am close to where I live. I can feel it here. It has good emotional karma, too. My former property was bought from a couple who were divorcing. I should have k
nown better.”
Pastures surrounded the property except by the main house, which had been beautifully landscaped. It was a classic two-story Mediterranean villa: roof of curved orange tiles, countless palm trees, rough stucco exterior.
When they walked through the front door, Alyce began to tingle. It was beautifully decorated in a down-to-earth way. Definitely Jean-Luc.
The foyer’s floor was made of yellow, blue, and white tiles. A large Moroccan archway led to the living room that looked out on a vista of the sea. There were just a few fishing boats here and there. The sun-dappled water sparkled as though a net of diamonds was strewn across it.
“Oh, Jean-Luc,” Alyce said softly, “the sunsets must be incredible here.”
Pauline was smiling. Yes, the real-estate cupid had pulled back his bow and struck deep into his target.
“I love the kitchen!” he cried. It was spacious and a soft yellow. “It is even better than mine. I always wished there had been room for a dining table. Now there is.”
They walked through glass sliding doors to the large backyard. There was a pétanque court and a small cottage overlooking the water. They immediately inspected it. The wall facing the sea was floor to ceiling glass. Alyce couldn’t imagine a more peaceful place on earth.
“Merveilleux!” he said almost to himself. “This will be where I write.”
“There is another guest cottage down the road that is part of the property,” Pauline added.
As they walked to the house, Alyce was jolted by the sight of another Tree of Love just like the one at her former cottage.
“It is perfection,” he said. “How much?”
“It started at 950. It is now down to your magic number, 700.”
“What about the furnishings?”
“Everything is negotiable. I will look into it.”
“Jean-Luc. Your budget.”
He ignored Alyce’s comment as they walked through the rooms upstairs. “I wonder what the master bedroom looks like.” Upon seeing it, “Fit for a king, Al-ees!”
The large bed had an ornate carved wooden headboard and a mattress that looked two feet thick. “Yep,” Alyce said, patting it. “You’ll be having fun with someone on this in no time.”
“I will be too busy to have fun.”
Pauline cocked her head. “You are not looking together? I thought—Pardon.”
For the drive back, Pauline talked nonstop to Jean-Luc about being single at her age. Alyce’s mind went to visions of herself as a cat-loving spinster who spoiled other people’s children.
And never had her heart broken again.
When they returned to Pauline’s office, she wrote her home number on her business card before they parted. “In case you lost it, Jean-Luc.”
“I will be in touch,” he said.
Once on the road, he suggested, “Let us dine and discuss what I should do.”
“Sure you don’t want to do that with Pauline?”
“Not tonight.”
Alyce pushed him playfully on his upper arm. “You go, Jean Ho.”
“Do not call me that. I have outgrown that phase.”
She turned her head away from him and let out a “Hmm.”
They found an outdoor café and ordered suppa d’erbiglie and fricassée d’agneau à la niçoise. He took a sniff of his cabernet after they had their respective tastes.
“It is like you, Al-ees. Its complexity did not strike me immediately.”
“I disagree. It’s more like you. Very set in its ways.”
“We will see about that.”
Alyce accidentally put the cork in her mouth thinking it was a piece of bread.
“You are so funny, Al-ees!”
“Ha, ha, ha. It’s the painkiller. And no more wine for me. Let’s get down to business.”
They hashed out the property he wanted to buy from every angle. Was there any way to make it income-producing? He could rent out the cottage. He could possibly rent out some of the land to a vineyard or farmer. Or turn it into a lavender field.
“I should not deal with any side businesses,” he said. “Writing is what I do, Al-ees.”
Working off the calculator in the phone she had the use of until the end of that month’s billing cycle, she came up with a budget for him. Any income from writing or teaching would go into a separate savings account.
“It’s the sacred nest egg you never touch,” she advised.
“Yes, yes. I will stick to it, I promise.”
“Don’t rush into this decision, Jean-Luc. At least sleep on it.”
“Did you say you want to sleep with me?”
She pretended she didn’t hear him. “I need to get back to the hotel. I’m fading fast. That anesthesia must still be in my system.”
He was a perfect gentleman when they parted. He gave her three cheek-kisses and bid her “Bonne nuit.”
Once inside her lovely hotel room, she walked onto the terrace and took in the picturesque harbor. She loved the idea of teaching at MEF, but live in France year round? She was surprised to find herself missing her parents, and even her sister. She did not miss living in Hoboken or a tiny apartment.
She stood in a Zen-like state trying to see into the future. Suddenly something Jean-Luc had said came to the surface. Then she saw it: a crystal-clear plan for her future.
He had suggested that day at the beach that she go to Japan to learn Japanese. Wouldn’t it be nice to spend the summer in a different country each year and learn a new language? What could she do that would allow her to take summers off?
Be a teacher.
But not at MEF. Summer was their busiest time.
She would move back to St. Paul and get a teaching degree. Maybe she would marry another teacher so they could travel together. If not, that was okay. She wanted to live life to the fullest, with or without children, with or without a husband.
She gazed at the Mediterranean Sea that night, committed its image to memory, and said her final au revoir.
36
Adieu?
The next morning, Alyce had just stepped out of the shower when there was a knock on the door, followed by a man saying, “Room service.”
She pulled on a robe and said through the door, “I didn’t order anything.”
“A complimentary breakfast from the management, mademoiselle.”
She opened the door and motioned to the gentleman to put the tray on the terrace. He did not hand her a bill to sign and waved away her offer to tip him.
The moment she approached the table, something seemed odd. She sat down, trying to put her finger on it. Wait a minute. It looked exactly like the breakfast Jean-Luc had made for her the morning they went walking in the woods for herbs and he pretended to be a wild boar. Two eggs sunny-side up sprinkled with herbs and nestled on brioche. Fanned across the top of the plate were paper-thin slices of green apple and pear decorated with swirls of cinnamon. Bite-size pieces of melon de Cavaillon were just as they had been before.
There was an envelope with her name on it. Inside, on Jean-Luc’s stationery, was written:
There once was a girl from St. Paul
Who had one mean caterwaul
To have it plucked out
She had to duck out
In one hour to the café Mistral
When Jean-Luc spied Alyce, he crouched behind a car parked in front of the café. As she walked by on her way inside he popped out.
“HAH!”
She jumped back in fright. “Damn you! Why do you do that? It’s very immature.”
“Because you know you love it. And I love it when you scold me.”
They got in his Kangoo with Didon in the back and drove to the last house they’d seen the day before. Pauline had given him the key. As they entered, Didon set off to inspect every nook and cranny.
“They agreed to sell it, with the contents, for 650,000 Euros if I paid cash. That is not over my budget, is it?”
“It’s an incredible deal. Grab it.”
>
He waited for a lecture to follow but it didn’t come. Alyce seemed different today. Detached, yet self-assured.
They walked out to the terrace of his future home. On a teak table was a large vase he had filled with the flowers that she loved: jasmine, roses, sunflowers, bougainvillea and Brugmansia x candida. Angel’s Trumpet to him; the Tree of Love to Alyce.
He asked her to take a seat on the side with a view of the sea. “Wait here.”
He returned with the bottle of Dom Perignon he had been chilling in the refrigerator, along with three elegant flutes. Edith Piaf began singing “La Vie en Rose.”
“What’s this?” she said. “You bought the property?”
“Not yet. It is nice that the sound system plays out here, yes?” Didon positioned herself at the table, panting happily at Alyce.
“Is that flute for her? I’ve seen everything,” she said. “Oh, sorry, I’m not supposed to talk when that song is on.”
“It’s okay now. In fact, I feel the best I have ever felt in my life.”
She was wearing an achingly feminine floral dress, no jewelry, no makeup; the most beautiful woman in the world. He could not live one minute more without her.
A light breeze came up. She ran her hands up and down her bronzed arms.
“Are you cold?”
“No, it feels nice to have the sea air on me.” She perked up. “It’s like being caressed by nature.”
“Another poetic observation of yours.” And each one a precious gift to him.
He removed the foil wrapping on the bottle faster. As he worked out the cork he suavely commented, “You look terribly French today.”
“You’re not looking too bad yourself. I really love the new haircut.” She hummed along with the song.
Ah, she wanted him as desperately now as he wanted her.
“Too bad I’ve sworn off men and I’ll be leaving soon.”
Bop! The cork sailed across the table and landed in the pétanque court. Didon chased it.
Paying no mind to her joke, he said, “From now on, that will be our cochonet when we play.”