“You’ve got that right.”
They shared some of their more impressive bloopers.
They had dressed for the cool weather, so they walked down to the small marché de Noël for a chocolat chaud after dinner. Cynthia described the holiday traditions she had discovered in Italy.
“Would you ever expect Italians to be playing bagpipes at Christmas?’
“Whaaa?”
“True fact! It’s a beloved tradition. The Zampognari dress like shepherds in sheepskins and woolen cloaks, and they wear peaked hats. They play carols on what look like rustic bagpipe-type instruments. Everyone loves them!”
“I’ll have to look them up,” Nora said, but Cynthia pulled some photos up on her phone. “Take a look at the videos.”
Nora watched a few short ones. “I’m enchanted! That’s so sweet, in an unusual way… And loud!”
Cynthia agreed. “Always very loud. So Italian! To be honest, at first I thought it was a joke, but everyone adores them!”
She continued, adding, “The nine days before Christmas are called La Novena, and each day is marked by street performances and concerts. Children go from house to house, reciting poetry or singing carols, and collecting money for charity. On the first day, each family sets up its presepio, a manger scene. It’s a pretty religious time, and everyone goes to church a lot.”
They continued comparing experiences for a while longer until Cynthia began to apologize for stifling yawns.
“Oh my God, I’m sorry to keep you talking! You must be exhausted after the day you’ve had!” Nora said.
Back at the apartment, Cynthia stood in front of the floral arrangement with her arms spread wide. “This is magnificent! What’s the story?”
Nora looked sheepish. “It’s a bit over the top, isn’t it? But also beautiful, and I convinced myself to simply enjoy it. I’ve never had anyone send me such gorgeous flowers.”
“So … tell me more,” Cynthia pressed her.
“The arrangement was sent by Giselle’s friend, Luc, who has taken me under his wing. He’s in Mexico right now, visiting Giselle with his daughter. He’s just a friend…”
“Hmm, that’s not exactly a ‘friendly’ arrangement. Looks serious to me. If I wasn’t so pooped, I’d beg for more details. Tomorrow, you have to promise to tell me more. Whoever he is, he has exquisite taste.”
Nora nodded, happy to change the subject.
“But before we go to sleep,” she said, “let me tell you something, in case I forget in the morning.” She told Cynthia about the history of the van Gogh brothers living in the apartment next door.
“That’s so cool! And it’s the kind of thing that can only happen in Europe. Those kinds of stories just can’t possibly be part of the history of a country as young as Canada.”
Nora described having visions of Vincent—lurking in the hallway, drifting down the stairwell, and wandering all around the neighborhood. They grinned at the absurdity of it, but there was something oddly touching in the way Nora described it. “It almost feels like he is a lost spirit, and it inspires me to write.”
“There’s so much just in this apartment to set your imagination on fire. That beamed ceiling gives the place such atmosphere, and the view is to die for! Imagine Vincent being your neighbor. I love everything about this.”
In spite of being tired, they talked well into the night, their conversation dotted with long yawns and lots of laughter. It wasn’t only about catching up but also reflecting on the options available to them at this stage in their lives.
“It hadn’t occurred to me that I might be a bit stuck in my life at home. I love living in our little ski town,” Nora told her, “even though Chloe keeps suggesting I might need a change.”
Cynthia’s knowing glance indicated no need for words.
Nora continued, “Even on days when I don’t do anything in particular here, I feel more alive and happier. Much of it has to do with this guy.” She reached down and gave Atticus a scratch around his ears. He climbed onto the sofa and snuggled beside her.
“It’s obvious you two have bonded.” Cynthia chuckled and gave him a rub too.
“I adore him. Really, do we need much more company than a loving pet? I’ve been reminded of that here. I might even get a dog again when I get back home. A rescue, already trained. I don’t think I could survive the puppy stage now.”
Their chat moved to pets and memories for a few minutes, interspersed with even longer yawns and drooping eyelids.
“We better get to sleep,” Nora mumbled.
