His answer was instantaneous.“Yes.”And then fourteen heart emojis. She was thrilled.
Noah made dinner at their parents’ place because they wanted to debrief. Good times.
Over appetizers, it was niceties. How much Iris and Bill had enjoyed their stay with Madame Belleville. How well the fundraiser had gone. Even reluctantly admitting how important Marlow was to Mirabelle. In the midst of all that, Sabine texted Marlow to say she was going to travel for a year with Aubin, and she was too nervous to talk about it face to face. Later, she’d award her mother a ninety-second lecture with no adolescent interruptions, but Marlow should know that Sabine had made up her mind.
Marlow thought this was a great idea. They’d apply for deferrals to the universities that had accepted Sabine. They’d all say yes, Marlow would bet her life on it.
The main course was a pasta in chanterelles cream sauce. Sylvain had taught Noah how to cook with them. It sent Marlow rightback to Montsouris-le-Petit, and the chanterelles Manon the chef had cooked for her and Luc as they’d toured thehôtel disséminé.
As the main course wound down, Marlow’s parents moved into attack mode. Now that she and Sabine were back, what was the plan? Had Oscar offered the job? What had she decided to do with Maison Perdue? What was Sabine doing about school?
Marlow slowed down her eating to savor every bite until her parents ran out of steam. It was like doing a deep breathing exercise amidst a fourteen-car pile-up.
“Do you plan on answering us anytime soon?” said Iris. “Ignoring your family is rude.”
“I’m not ignoring you. I’m letting you finish your thoughts while I eat this exquisite meal. Noah, you outdid yourself.”
“Right?” said Noah.
Sabine arrived. “What’d I miss?” she said, slipping into a chair.
“Only the best main I’ve ever made,” said Noah.
“You’re just in time to help me answer all the questions,” said Marlow.
“I bet,” said Sabine. “You first.”
“No fair, but I’ll try.” Marlow took her last bite of pasta, considered licking the plate, and remembered what Guillaume had said to her when they’d done the Five Factor Test about buying Maison Perdue. “Of everyone in the world, you are the expert of you.”
She’d been telling herself she didn’t know what she wanted for so long, she’d come to believe it. All this time, it hadn’t been a lack of knowledge, it had been fear. “Oscar offered me the job, but I didn’t take it. And I gave my notice at Renegade today.”
Bill and Iris gasped. Sabine smiled. Noah just whistled and shook his head.
“I don’t want to climb the corporate ladder. I’m going back to France. Maybe rewrite my screenplay from all those years ago. Or write a different one and see if I can shoot it.”
The more she talked, the more the idea took shape.
“I had a chance to work at another film festival—a big one—but I don’t want to administer other people’s fine art anymore. I’m going to apply for a work permit in France. If I can work remotely, I can work freelance from there.”
“How on earth will you do that when Mirabelle doesn’t even have internet!” said Iris.
“One of my first projects.”
“Oh lah-di-dah, now she thinks she’s the mayor of Mirabelle,” said Bill.
“Going back means I can stick to the rules of the purchase, like not leaving the house empty for over seven weeks, doing home improvements over a five-year schedule, and participating in local matters—like getting the village some internet.”
“And you’re just leaving your eighteen-year-old daughter to fend for herself?”
“Sabine’s taking a gap year.”
“What!” said Iris.
“Hell’s bells,” said Bill.
“I’ll defer my acceptances,” said Sabine. “It’ll be fine.”
“This is how it begins,” said Iris.
