French Toast (The French Twist Series Book 2)

by Glynis Astie

  “Um…” I stammered. “What an excellent question!”

  I could see the look of panic cross Grace’s face. I had kept as much as I could from them, but they weren’t stupid; they knew something had happened between Louis and me. I recognized her desire to provide a stress-free evening for me and I could see her mentally cursing her husband for finding the one detail I had missed.

  I shook my head. “Don’t worry, Grace. I’m fine.” I turned to Nigel. “Thank you for finding this huge, and rather embarrassing, deficiency, Pip. I still have time to fix it.”

  Grace narrowed her eyes at him and then turned a happy face back to me. “So, how are the dress fittings going?”

  Nigel began to babble nervously. “Yes, yes, tell us about your gorgeous dress! What color is it? Does it have any beading or…perhaps some lace?”

  I grinned. The best way to cheer up a bride was to have her describe her wedding dress. I tried to be as brief as possible, so as not to bore Nigel to death. (Despite his questions, I knew he didn’t give a crap what my dress looked like.) “It is a white spaghetti strap ball gown with a satin beaded bodice and a full tulle skirt. The skirt is my favorite part! It is so totally poofy, has beading patterned into the tulle and has a hint of a train. The dress really is gorgeous!”

  Nigel breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m sure you will look stunning in it. And will you be wearing a tiara? A veil? Or perhaps a tiara and a veil?”

  I giggled. He was really trying to make up for almost freaking me out a couple of minutes ago. And then I realized something absolutely horrific…I hadn’t chosen ANYTHING to wear on my head. Shit! What was I going to do? Would I be able to get a veil that matched my dress so close to the wedding? Did they have to be custom made with the same fabric? Maybe my mom, the master seamstress could make one? Unlikely, as she lives THREE THOUSAND MILES away from the dress. Oooh, maybe Maya could bedazzle something for me to wear on my head. A headband? A jaunty cap? Maybe a dunce hat???

  I felt the color drain from my face. “I…uh…” Poor Nigel! He had the knack for finding all my deficiencies.

  Grace was absolutely mortified. For a moment, she didn’t know what to say. Then she turned to her husband and began whispering furiously. Poor Nigel looked like he wanted to die. I felt so stupid! What had I done to my amazing friends? No one was to blame here but me. I should stop this before it gets any worse. I didn’t want to draw anyone else into my nightmare.

  “Guys!” They were far too involved in their fast-paced discussion to hear me.

  I cleared my throat and tried again. “Guys!” I yelled a little louder than I had intended. “Oooh…sorry.” I smiled sheepishly. “Please calm down. I’m fine.”

  Grace still gave the impression of wanting to hurt her husband. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

  I needed to think about something, anything other than my wedding plans. I was becoming sick of them. Or at least I was sick (and tired!) of making mistakes with them.

  I massaged my neck. “Yes, there is! Please tell me about YOUR French wedding.”

  Did I fail to mention they too would be having a wedding in France? It seems Louis and I had not cornered the market on having a civil ceremony first and a story book wedding at a later date. Nigel and Grace’s wedding would take place at the end of next summer in a big, beautiful castle in the Loire Valley. It sounded incredibly romantic. For the next hour, I was regaled with stories of the history of the castle, the details of the ceremony and most importantly for Pip, the rich bounty of food which would be served.

  As I sat on the other side of the table listening to them tell each of these stories in tandem, I thought about how good they were for each other. They didn’t seem to struggle the way Louis and I did. Were they simply better suited for each other? It was true they’d not been under the same degree of stress we were currently under, but who’s to say they wouldn’t have handled it just as well as they seem to handle everything else? I’m not saying they never disagreed, as evidenced by their lively sidebar earlier this evening, but it was never about any big issues. Any quarrel they had seemed to be minor and was forgotten about before the end of the conversation. They made everything look so easy.

  For the rest of the evening, I made sure to smile as much as possible regardless of the nonsense floating around in my head. Nigel and Grace had made every attempt to keep me in good spirits and I didn’t want to disappoint them by showing them any evidence of my confusion. I kept wondering if Louis and I were in a better place now. It was certainly true we were getting along better, but we were also keeping our conversations on a more superficial level. I still felt like we were walking on eggshells and it made me unbelievably sad. I sincerely hoped by the time we were standing in front of each other, three short months from now, sharing our vows of love and fidelity (again) that we would mean every word. It couldn’t be just for show.

  Chapter Ten

  Invigorated by my evening with Nigel and Grace, I set off to correct the two crucial omissions from my perfect wedding. Way to drop the ball, Sydney! After a quick conversation with Zoe, I was granted permission to borrow the veil she had worn when she married Charlie. The color was a bit off from my dress, but it was gorgeous and it would be my something borrowed. (I’m ahead of the game! My last something borrowed was discovered ten minutes before the wedding ceremony.) Much to my delight, my amazing boss, Vivian, came to rescue and agreed to “officiate” our ceremony. She had seen everything unfold between the two of us and I felt honored she wanted to tell our story through her eyes to all our loved ones.

  With those gaping holes plugged, I felt infinitely better. Though I was still unsure of what to buy for our wedding party. I was tempted to go with Louis’ idea that being in the wedding party was a gift in itself, but knew I would hate myself later for such an idiotic choice. While he was keeping his comments on the final stages of our wedding plans to a minimum, I could see he still believed the innumerable details were ridiculous. I decided for the sake of my marriage, it wouldn’t be a good idea to bring up that his mother’s wedding related activities were far more complicated and costly than ours. (Thankfully, she was footing the bill for her own shenanigans!)

  I surveyed my final list, which had fallen below five items, and glanced at Louis. It was Saturday morning and he was sitting on the floor in front of the TV playing one of his favorite games, Manhunt. Whenever he got a new video game, he would sit in the living room in his underwear for the entire weekend trying to beat the game as soon as possible. Normally, cabin fever took over and I would do my best to get him out of the apartment for a couple of hours. (He would always get really twitchy and stare at the clock, so we never lasted very long.) Every so often he would grin at me and then immediately scowl in concentration as he resumed his game. I smiled, knowing we were getting closer to the happiness we once shared.

  For the past three weeks, Louis and I have been spending a minimum four nights a week together and it has been AWESOME! Though Louis had yet to find a job, he had gone on a number of promising interviews and was hopeful one would turn into gainful employment. We didn’t discuss wedding plans, American or French, focusing only on enjoying each other’s company. I‘m deliriously happy to note this included a lot of time in the bedroom. Louis is an incredible lover and the many lazy afternoons and evenings we spent in bed did wonders for both of us. We slept better, laughed more and had a much more positive outlook on life.

  I closed my eyes and thought of a particularly satisfying evening involving massage oil when I was jolted out of my reverie by the phone ringing. I quickly glanced at the caller ID. Uh oh…here it comes.

  “Bluey! Your mom is calling.”

  He peered up at me. “I’ll call her back later.”

  He must be kidding. It was eleven in the morning! There was a nine hour time difference and his parents went to bed by eight. Come to think of it, she should be in bed. A knot formed in my stomach. Louis’s mom did not make phone calls from her bedroom. She always
sat in her favorite chair in the living room. So if she were calling when she would normally be in bed…

  I shook my head at him. “Something is wrong. You need to speak with her.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Do I have to?”

  I picked up the phone and walked over to him. “Trust me. Something is very, very wrong.”

  He sighed and pushed the talk button. “Maman?”

  The yelling from the other end of the phone was deafening. Seriously, she just put my dad to shame.

  Louis’ faced morphed quickly, settling in a resemblance to a deer caught in headlights. For the millionth time I wished I spoke French. Granted his mom has a thick southern accent, and she uses a lot of slang and local language, but I would be able to catch every fifth word or so. I might have been able to make sense of something!

  After five minutes of yelling, Louis joined in. He began to yell at the top of his lungs – again, no clue what he was saying – and the cacophony in the apartment was almost comical. The only thing that made me feel better was I knew no one had died. There wouldn’t be this much yelling if someone were in danger. This could only mean there was a serious French wedding issue. Shit.

  I began to pace the living room. What could have happened? Was someone important not coming? Had one of the vineyards had a break in? (What was a wedding in France without wine?) Were they not able to locate enough tables for four hundred and fifty people? Did a bunch of farm animals get into Simone’s secret stash of wedding flowers? Did something happen to one of my wardrobe items? I crossed my fingers and hoped it was the last one.

  Louis screamed a string of expletives (he taught me those early on) and slammed the phone down.

  I stood there looking at him, at a total loss for anything to say. His whole body was shaking with rage. I was barely breathing as I waited for him to react.

  He surprised me by sitting down on the couch and putting his head in his hands. I thought he would have thrown something. I would have wanted to if I were in his shoes. More power to him for his degree of self-control.

  I knelt on the floor next to him and rubbed his back. “Are you OK, Bluey?”

  He shook his head. “I…I don’t know what to say.”

  “Um…why don’t you tell me what all the yelling was about?” I tried to smile.

  He sighed. “My mother had a tantrum.”

  Oh. A tantrum. I knew she was rather…excitable…but I didn’t realize there were tantrums.

  I stroked the back of his neck. “Did something happen?”

  “You could say that.”

  OK. And what could I say happened? How about we get to the point? The suspense is killing me!!! Whoa, calm down, Sydney. Dial down the sarcasm. I took a deep breath. “Is everything alright?”

  He brought his eyes up to meet mine. “No, it is not. My mother is very upset.”

  I bit back another snarky comment. “I gathered from the massive amount of yelling.”

  He cracked a smile. “I guess this was a sign.” He cleared his throat. “She had lunch with one of her friends today who whipped her up into a frenzy about the French wedding coming last.”

  I furrowed my brow. “But, she said it was fine. She has extra time to plan…” And more importantly, she would have a less stressed bride to deal with.

  “Well, my mother is very easily swayed by other’s opinions. Her friend told her she was being treated very poorly by her American daughter-in-law and she needed to stand up for herself.”

  WHAT??? I’ve never even met her! What have I done? Besides appropriate her only son…

  It was my turn to put my head in my hands. She hasn’t met me and she already hates me. What could I do to fix this?

  Louis pulled me close to him. “Syd, relax. My mom cares way too much about what other people think. Her pride was wounded; that’s all.”

  I put my head on his shoulder. “But why did her friend say I mistreated her?”

  He sighed. “Because we will have had two American weddings before the French wedding.”

  I studied him. “And they think I’m the only one making decisions?”

  He chuckled. “No, they know I would defer to you, since you are my beautiful bride.”

  I snuggled closer into Louis. I had to come up with a plan. I couldn’t let my mother-in-law hate me. We were barely going to have a relationship as it is because we don’t speak the same language. I had to do something for her. And it had to be big.

  I exhaled slowly. “I have a plan. It scares me, but it’s doable.”

  Louis raised his eyebrows at me. “Mon coeur…”

  Did I really want to suggest this? Well, no, I didn’t, but I had to. Shit.

  I cleared my throat. “We can’t move the American wedding given all of the deposits we’ve made and the travel plans, etc. But we can talk to your mother about moving the French wedding up.”

  Louis’ eyes widened. “What are you saying?”

  My hands started shaking. “I’m saying if your mother is willing to do it, we can have the French wedding before our Monterey wedding.”

  He stared at me like I was crazy. Which, of course, I was, but this needed to be done. Louis had made a very long list of concessions for me and it was time for me to pony up for the sake of his family.

  Louis took my hands. “Syd, we have finally gotten back to a place where we are happy. I am afraid of what this change will do to you.”

  “Bluey, we’re going to be fine. Think about it from your mom’s perspective.” I paused, momentarily lost in thought. “Because of me, you moved thousands of miles away, speak a different language more often than you speak French and have absorbed another culture. You live in a different world now.”

  He grimaced. “And I did marry an American.”

  I swatted him in the back of the head. “Whom she has yet to meet.”

  He squeezed my hand. “And cannot communicate with.”

  I gazed into the most beautiful blue eyes in the world. “We have to do something big for her to make up for all that. And I think this is it.”

  He thought for a moment. “Do you promise I will not lose my Sydney?”

  I grinned at him. “You may have to get me a padded cell, but you won’t lose me!”

  He kissed me tenderly. “Thank you, mon coeur. This will mean a lot to her.”

  I tapped his nose playfully. “You mean a lot to me. It’s definitely worth it.”

  Louis grabbed the phone and called his mom. I was grateful she gave him the opportunity to speak instead of immediately yelling. My idea did the trick and we were both back in her good graces. The wedding was set for the end of August, one full month before our wedding in California. I would have enough time to recover, right? What could possibly go wrong?

  I closed my eyes and thought about what I had done. Fuck. That’s right, I said FUCK!!! This is definitely an occasion for some serious profanity. In fact, if I weren’t afraid of shocking you, I would bring out my father’s favorite string of profanity. It consisted of ten very colorful words. And I must admit I always felt much better after uttering them.

  There was only one thing to do. It was time to bring Maya out of hiding...

  After Louis left for his afternoon shift at the martial arts studio, I called Maya. Surprise, surprise, I got her voicemail. I left a message detailing what I would do to her if she didn’t show up at my apartment within one hour. This was not a drill.

  My next call was to Kate. I was lucky Sam was sleeping and Nick didn’t have too many weekend projects to catch up on. (In all fairness, it had been quite some time since Crazy Sydney had been in residence, so Kate was due a small amount of time to “defreak” her sister.) Kate told me she would be there, with a bottle of wine, in ten minutes.

  An hour later, Kate, Maya and I were sitting around the table. Maya and I had polished off the bottle of wine Kate had brought, but I was still very high upon the ledge. Poor Kate had to endure this discussion stone-cold sober. Breastfeeding kept her from drinking in the
middle of the afternoon like the other two lushes at the table.

  Maya leveled her gaze at me. “Syd, what’s the big deal?” Her lips twitched as though she were trying not to smile.

  This coming from the woman who was keeping a list of the mortifying activities coming my way once I flew over the Atlantic. I think she was planning on creating quite a photo album…possibly to auction on eBay.

  Kate frowned at Maya. “You need to stop getting so much enjoyment at my sister’s expense.”

  Ha! I told you my perfect sister had come back to me.

  Maya rolled her eyes at Kate. “She’s going to be fine. SHE is the one who decided to move the French wedding up. YOU need to stop coddling her.” Then she stared at me. “Grow a pair.”

  I stood up and got another bottle of wine. I slammed it down on the table and pointed my finger at Maya. “Listen, just because you’re suddenly blissfully happy doesn’t mean no one else has any problems. I mean, where the hell have you been for the past few months??? My marriage was crumbling!!!”

  Maya was taken aback. “Excuse me for having a life for once.”

  Tears started spilling down my face. “You always had a life. You used to share a little of it with me.” I sank down into my chair. “Everything got so hard and…it felt like you had abandoned me. And now you’re giving me shit when I have a legitimate problem.”

  Kate had a murderous look on her face. Nobody messed with her little sister. Especially not some sassy little girl she could snap like a twig. Not that she ever would, of course, because she was a lady.

  Maya took my hand. “I’m sorry, Syd. I didn’t realize how bad things had gotten.”

  I shook my head as the tears continued to fall. “I kept trying to tell you, but I couldn’t get you on the phone.”

  Maya opened the bottle of wine and poured me a fresh glass. I nodded my thanks and took a big sip.

  Kate refilled her seltzer and sat back down at the table. She rifled through the candy bowl until she found a Kit Kat bar and promptly threw it at me. “Eat! It’ll help you think.”