“You haven’t heard from Cannes yet, so I will hope for that. And if not Cannes, come work with me at the winery.”
Marlow looked into his eyes. “I’m probably going to regret this, but I’m not really looking for a business partnership—aside from raising Sabine, my whole life has been about work. And that’s one of the things that this summer in France offered that was different from what I’d been doing for years, on automatic pilot. And, as it turns out, I’m not really interested in a situationship either. But thank you. Sorry.”
“Nothing to apologize for. I’m sad, but there you are.”
“For God’s sake, Marlow,” said Iris. “We’re going to miss our flight.”
Marlow kissed Guillaume on each cheek and stepped onto the minibus.
There was terrible traffic into Paris. By the time they reached Charles de Gaulle, there was a half-hour until their gate closed. Noah thought it might be a sign to stay in France.
Marlow sent Noah and Sabine inside to help Bill and Iris check in. She pulled her carry-on out of the bus while an irate driver honked and hurled obscenities at Luc’s bad parking.
“It’s just like the first time I met you,” she said, laughing.
“Only this time, I am wearing socks and shoes,” said Luc.
“I have to go, or I won’t make the flight—”
“Maybe that is my master plan.”
“My parents’ll love that. I’m going to talk fast—I can’t thank you enough for everything. The fundraiser, the work on the house—oh my God, I never paid you for your work!”
“It is my pleasure.”
“No, no, I am going to pay you, I’m such an idiot.”
“I always meant to do this work for free.”
“That is a very bad idea for you, and a giant gift for me,” she said, looking at him, all of him: his lithe body, how comfortable he was in his own skin, the lines at the corner of his eyes that crinkled his tanned, leathery skin as he smiled.
“Tonight, I will lie in my bed and look to your room and see closed shutters.”
“Yes, but they’ll be newly painted shutters.” The minutes were ticking down.
“I will wish you were there.”
“I am going to miss this plane,” she said, her resolve melting, wanting to be with him.
“I did not finish painting you. Back in Canada, shoot a story on Instagram every day. Borrow festival equipment and shoot your feature film, even if you are certain you’re a terrible artist. Fill your soul, not to get rich and become an internationally known filmmaker like Yves, but just for you. You can make art, even if it is not for sale. Do you promise?”
“Promise.” Her eyes welled with tears. She did not want to go.
“You are not your job. Yes, you have financial responsibilities, but life in Mirabelle doesn’t cost much, and it is good. Come back. We can find work of some kind to pay for food.”
“I am very good at mixing mortar.”
“And finding chanterelles. See? Two jobs already.”
The airport doors slid open. It was Noah. “Marlie, get your ass in here.”
Marlow kissed Luc long on the lips. It sent tingles through her entire body. And then she was gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
On the flight home, Sabine’s grandparents were in first class, her uncle Noah was sitting at the back, chatting with the flight attendants, and she and her mum were squished in the middle.
They ate Madame Belleville’s lunch and an entire box ofPetits écoliersand watched an old French farce calledGazon Maudit—in English,French Twist, which made Marlow laugh so hard she cried. It had been her high school French teacher who’d gotten her into French films, showing them in class so they could practice their comprehension. Marlow had gone on to watch as many as she could. Ultimately, it had led her to film school.
