by Sarah Kinsey
“Well, now you know for next time?” Bessie tried to find a bright side.
“Yeah. Now I know,” Marie repeated. “Thanks, Bessie. So, what else happened?”
Bessie hesitated, and then began to talk about her classes. Marie stopped her.
“I want to hear about your social life, Bessie. Do you have one while you’re up there? You must, because I hear a lot about Sarah from Mom. You dating her?”
“No, no. I’m not dating anyone, Marie,” Bessie said. “Sarah’s one of my best friends.”
“Have you met anyone you would date?” Marie gave her a good stare. Marie had always been the one to talk about boys and get in trouble for them when they were younger. Bessie was not surprised that she was still curious about her social life. So, Bessie told her about Marc and the way she felt about him. That she felt guilty for not getting his number and that she would probably never see him again.
“Cheer up, Bessie. Life has many ways of putting you with the person you’re supposed to marry,” Marie smiled. “Maybe you’ll see him here. I mean, after all, Charleston has a law school.”
“You’re kidding.” Bessie frowned. “Really?”
“Yeah. He may have applied and gotten in.” Marie shrugged. “You never know, after all.”
Bessie had to admit that her sister had a point. There was nothing more she could do than just hope that perhaps she would see Marc again.
“Come on. Let’s go to the beach,” Marie said. “I could use some help scouting locations to post from, and you’ve always had an eye for good locations for pictures.”
“Thanks, Marie,” Bessie said. To hear her sister say that – especially considering how rarely Bessie took photos of herself – was a compliment, and one that she had never thought Marie would give her.
Marie changed into one of the bikinis she already owned – and she owned plenty of them because she took pride in how she looked – and then put on a cover up. Bessie threw on a pair of sandals, but didn’t bother changing. She wasn’t in the mood to go in the water today. However, she did put a swimsuit and coverup in the bag she was going to be carrying, a small drawstring that had enough room for all the clothes she needed to change into or out of.
“Do you want to use one of my bags, Bessie?” Marie motioned to the large tote bag that she had stuffed full of other large tote bags. “I brought too many to use in a single week, and I’m supposed to rep them all somehow.”
“Are you asking if I want to be on your social media page?” Bessie was a bit taken aback. She had never thought about it, and she wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about it.
Marie nodded. “Just as a bag model. It would be a close up of the bag against your body; your face would never show up in the pictures, but you would get model credit,” Marie explained.
“No, thank you, Marie. I don’t like the idea of having a part of my body showing up on your page without more time to think about it.” Bessie shook her head, pursing her lips.
“That’s all right,” Marie said.
Bessie appreciated that her sister wasn’t going to force her to participate if she didn’t want to. She shouldered her bag, and off they went to find good spots to photograph in.
“How many bikinis are you modeling this week?” Bessie found herself curious.
“I’ll be modeling three this week. I decided to do only three so I could wear ones I had worn before as well this week. Like the one I’m wearing today. This is my favorite bikini,” Marie said.
Bessie had never understood the appeal of a bikini, but she supposed that it wasn’t something for everyone. “I see,” she said plainly.
Marie walked with her across the street to the boardwalk. They made small talk as they wandered aimlessly about. They found a few cool places to take pictures, such as a small spot in front of the water and a shopfront with a large shell on the sign.
Marie coaxed Bessie into letting her take some photos. Not to go on the pages or anything, but just as mementos of the trips. Bessie agreed, so long as they were taken on Bessie’s phone. Marie had no problem with that, and took a lot of photos of Bessie in front of the water. Bessie had some fun, but by lunch time, she was ready to be done with the pictures.
“Marie, I think you’ve taken plenty of pictures,” Bessie said. “Besides, I haven’t had anything to eat since we left Salt Lake. Shouldn’t we get some food?”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Marie said, her own stomach growling at this point.
They started looking for a place to eat, and they found a fast food place that wasn’t quite crawling with travelers and other people who were sweaty and icky. After they ordered – with Marie insisting she pay to thank Bessie for the photos and the scenery – Bessie looked out the window, people-watching. It was one of her favorite things to do in crowded places, and today, that was no different. She saw plenty of tourists wearing all kinds of swimsuits and all kinds of other clothing – denim shorts, Bermuda shorts, and even cropped tank tops that looked more like sports bras than anything else. It was a lot more revealing than anything she saw in Salt Lake.
Then, a man caught her eye. He had a chiseled square jaw, and he was wearing long white shorts with a black short-sleeved shirt on. He walked into the store, and she got a better look at his face. It couldn’t be... could it?
Chapter 5
It was. The man standing in the line now was Marc Laurent. She wondered if he would recognize her, since about two weeks had passed, and he had never shown up at the class again. A snap drew her out of her thoughts.
“Bessie, what are you staring at? Don’t you know it’s rude to stare at people?” Marie’s voice came next.
Bessie turned to face her sister. “I was people watching. Sorry,” Bessie said, sighing. “I thought I recognized someone. That’s all.”
“Who would you know out here in Myrtle Beach? I thought all the students at your school were from Utah,” Marie said, furrowing her brows.
Bessie shook her head, laughing. “No, not all of them. I mean, Sarah’s from Virginia.” She smiled.
“That is a fair point...” Marie pursed her lips. “So, who do you think you recognized?”
Now that Marie had asked, color flushed Bessie’s cheeks. She didn’t want to say anything about it, knowing that it would probably be for the best if she didn’t say a thing. However, her sister would want an answer, regardless of Bessie’s wishes.
“Bessie, yes?” The familiar French-accented voice interrupted before she could say anything. “I do not know if you remember me...”
“Yes, I do remember you, Marc,” Bessie said, smiling. He remembered her!
“Would you like to sit with us?” Marie asked, motioning to the empty seat beside Bessie. “I’m sure it’s nice to get out of the sun.”
“It would be my pleasure, Mademoiselle,” Marc said, smiling. “I’m Marc.”
“Marie. I’m Bessie’s sister,” Marie replied. “How do you know Bessie?”
Bessie felt her cheeks coloring again, but she knew that Marie only meant the best for her.
“I stopped by her chemistry class to see what it was,” Marc replied. “I never did go back, but I always wanted to. By the time I had a chance, the semester had ended. I’m glad to see that I have found an old friend here.”
“What brings you to Myrtle Beach, Marc?” Bessie asked. She wanted to get the conversation off the fact that she knew him and onto something a little less... embarrassing in front of Marie.
“I have been accepted to the law school here in Charleston,” Marc replied. “I’m to start in the fall, but thought it would be a good idea to come down before the fall semester to see if I could find a place to stay.”
“That’s a good way to approach it,” Marie said. “Have you found anything suitable yet?”
“Yes, I have. But now I must find a job,” Marc replied, shaking his head. “Why is American education so expensive?”
Bessie laughed at this. If he thought this was expensive, then he ha
d not seen the price tags of some of the more prestigious schools.
“Why do you laugh?” Marc furrowed his eyebrows.
“Did you apply to Harvard Law?” Marie asked, putting the words to the question that Bessie could not.
Marc shook his head.
Once Bessie had finally regained her composure, she managed to explain what had made her laugh so hard. If he thought Charleston Law School and University of Utah were expensive, he had not seen the price tags of some of the other schools. Harvard could get well into the triple digits for a full education!
Marc’s face paled when he realized how lucky he was to be attending a school that was, essentially, mid-grade. “In France, things would only be expensive like this for pastry school,” he said. “Chefs are well-trained and well-paid.”
“I believe that. I’ve always wanted to go to France, try the cuisine,” Bessie said. “I have a chance to attend a class in the fall at one of the Paris culinary schools.”
“Oh, you will love it, Bessie,” Marc said, his eyes lighting up. “They are some of the best culinary schools in the world, and if you have always wanted to bake, then there is no better place for you to learn. You must try to make macarons when you take the class. It is a hard thing to master, but an easy recipe to learn.”
“It sounds like you have some baking experience,” Bessie said. “Have you attended one of the culinary schools?” It would certainly explain how he knew so much about what was going on at the schools, and about the tuition.
“No. My father is a chef,” he replied. “A pastry chef. He taught me to make macarons so I could enjoy a French pastry while I was in school, regardless of where I went. I thank him that he did; it helps when I’m homesick, and a plane ticket is expensive.”
“We’ll be here in Myrtle Beach for a couple of weeks, Marc,” Marie said. “Perhaps you could teach Bessie how to make macarons while we’re here. Or try, at least.”
Bessie gave Marie a look, trying to get her sister to understand that it was not going to happen.
“Would you like that, Bessie?” Marc turned to her. “I have been meaning to make macarons again soon... it would be fun to share with a friend this time.”
“Marie, I think that’s our food,” Bessie said as a number was called.
Marie got up from the table, shaking her head. Bessie then turned to Marc.
“How about we make macarons as a date?” She could not believe she was doing this, but she had no other choice. If she wanted to see where this could go, she had to make the move. He seemed to be too shy about dating an American girl to make it happen.
“A date? Sounds like a plan,” Marc said, smiling. “When are you free?”
“Umm... I don’t know, but if you give me a date, we can make it work,” Bessie said, biting her lip. “My family does not plan out vacations very well...”
Marc laughed and handed her a piece of paper with a string of five double-digit numbers separated by periods. If she was remembering correctly, this was how the French wrote their phone numbers. “I apologize if the format is odd to you, but that is my number,” he said. “I have an American phone while I’m here to keep my costs low.”
Bessie pulled her phone out and put the number into her contacts. Then, she texted him to make sure it was correct. His phone buzzed, and it was confirmed. She officially had Marc’s number.
“Wonderful. How does tomorrow night sound?” Marc smiled. “I will pick you up at the hotel you are staying at.”
“Sounds like a plan, Marc,” Bessie said.
Marie returned with their food. “So, you going to make macarons with your friend, Bessie?” Marie smirked, teasing her softly.
Bessie sighed, shaking her head with a smile.
“Marie, you are too gossipy for your own good sometimes, you know,” Bessie said. She took her fries. “What did you order, Marc?”
“Just a soda. I’m not the biggest fan of American fries.” He looked at the food with a soft disdain. “I have had them before, in Paris. From this restaurant. Not the best, but the beignets were pretty good for a fast food place.”
“Oh, wow,” Marie said, pausing. “They sell beignets at fast food restaurants in Paris?”
“This one does, yes, but I’m not sure how many others do,” he admitted.
Marie’s phone rang, and she excused herself to answer it.
“I’m looking forward to our date tomorrow, Bessie. But, if you’ll excuse me, I’m hungry, and I would rather cook my own food,” Marc said. Then he took her hand and squeezed it for a moment. He pulled away. “I will see you tomorrow at seven?”
“Seven sounds perfect.” Bessie could not help but smile.
Marc excused himself, and then Bessie was left alone at the table. She ate her food in silence. She could not believe he had accepted her invitation for a date. Now, she would get to learn how to make macarons properly; she had tried a few times and had never quite been able to master the recipe. Perhaps that was because all the recipes online were imitations of the real thing, whereas Marc was sure to know an authentic French recipe for the sweet treat.
If this worked out, then she would at least be able to show off for Sarah when she came down for a few weeks. Then, she remembered she had not yet had a chance to ask her parents if Sarah could come down for a week or two. That would be an interesting conversation.
Marie returned to the table. She sighed as she sat down.
“What’s wrong, Marie?” Bessie frowned, and then took a sip of her soda.
“That was Dad. Mom’s getting sick again,” Marie shook her head. “They had to go to the emergency room. I think our vacation is going to be cut short with the rest of us going home and Mom and Dad staying here while they figure out if she can travel.”
“Oh...” Bessie frowned. “How long do you think it’ll be before they make the decision to send everyone home?”
“I think they’ll make that decision when it gets closer to the date of our return trip... why do you ask?” Marie looked up at her.
“I-I... I may have a date tomorrow night...” Bessie felt her cheeks coloring as she admitted it to her sister.
Marie squealed. “I’m sure they’ll understand, Bessie,” she then said. “Mom is at the hotel right now. The doctors have advised her to get some time on the beach and enjoy what she can, but she should not overdo it.”
“All right.” Bessie took in a deep breath. “At least she is okay, for now.”
“I hope she’s well enough to travel when we have to leave,” Marie added. “I would hate to leave them here in South Carolina while the rest of us return to our various abodes in Utah and Idaho.”
Bessie only nodded. Jessica would have to return to school next week; her school had a funky track system and their summer session started next week. She had decided to take a few classes on campus and one online while she could. It would help her come fall, she had said.
Marie started to talk about the bikinis and bags again. Bessie was not listening. If her mother was coming down with another round of cancer, it was going to leave her too weak to travel. She would have to have chemotherapy again, and probably have it here. They would have to make sure it was covered by insurance, pay for more hotel time... they had no one here they could stay with.
Unless...
Bessie wondered if Marc would have the room to offer her parents a place to stay to help with the costs of getting treatment on the east coast instead of back home. At least back home, it would have made sense for her father to stay at home while her mother was in the hospital. Here, her father would have to pay for a hotel the entire time.
“Bessie? Bessie?” Marie’s voice interrupted Bessie’s thoughts again. “Are you done?”
She looked down at her half-eaten meal, and then noticed that Marie had finished all her food. “Yeah... I guess hearing about Mom made me lose my appetite...” She frowned. “Come on. Let’s go.” Bessie got up and threw her leftovers out. This kind of food never reheated well. Marie thre
w her trash away, and they started to walk back towards the hotel together.
With all of this now looming on her shoulders, the doubts began to creep in. Would it even be a good idea to go abroad this fall with her mother struggling with cancer again? If her mother passed away while she was abroad... she would not get to say goodbye...
That idea hurt.
Chapter 6
The next day, her mother had started to feel somewhat better. She was not up for travel yet, but they had helped her enjoy the beach. At least they had been able to do that much for her. Now, Bessie stood in front of the bathroom mirror in the room she shared with Marie.
“What do you think, Marie?” Bessie turned to show Marie her outfit. It was a pair of denim shorts with a nice, pale pink tank top. The tank top didn’t have any kind of design on it, but the denim shorts had some jewels on the back pockets.
“I think you want a longer pair of jeans, Bessie,” Marie said plainly. “Did you bring anything longer than those shorts?”
“I did bring a pair of capris...” Bessie bit her lip. “We’re baking, Marie. What does it matter how long my shorts are?”
“It matters because you’re baking. I think it’ll be easier for you to clean up if you have something you don’t want to get dirty on.” Marie shrugged. “Unless you think he’ll have an apron for you to use.”
“I think I’ll be fine in this outfit,” Bessie countered. “Will you help me braid my hair? I think that’ll be best for tonight, you know, since we’re baking.” She didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t want to have her hair down tonight, but that was mainly due to the fact that, again, they would be cooking tonight.
Marie sighed, and then walked over to Bessie. “I don’t know how you managed to have a dating life at university, Bessie...” Marie shook her head and then began to braid Bessie’s hair. “Or do you just miss having me do your hair?”
“If I’m honest? I missed having you do my hair,” Bessie replied. “You always have such good braids.”