Oh, Harvard, that was all. This was a guy Marlow’s father, Bill, would approve of.
They stepped onto the terrace. Madame Klein lit candles, which gave the long, heavy table a warm glow. She brought out the first of what looked like, given the number of forks and spoons on the table, several courses. She poured red wine for everyone, including Sabine. Marlow said nothing. Yes, Sabine was only eighteen, but they were in France. Who cared?
Guillaume asked about Marlow’s life in Toronto. He inquired the same of Sabine, treating her like an adult, and even though her daughter dodged the big questions, Marlow could see that she liked that. Coq au vin arrived. Marlow took one bite and sank deeper into her chair. Divine.
“So you have bought a house with one euro,” he said. “Did you get your money’s worth?”
“Is this a trick question?” asked Marlow.
He smiled and waited for her answer, with no seeming judgment, just curiosity.
“Yes and no,” she said. “I don’t know how a house can be sold for a euro, even if it’s a disaster like Maison Perdue.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s a disaster. Some have no walls, ceilings, windows, electricity …”
“Maison Perdue has no electricity.”
“It has wiring.”
“True. But there must be a catch.”
“Oh, there are many,je suis certain,” said Guillaume, pursing his gorgeous lips and giving a bemused Gallic shrug. “But we can look at the paperwork in the morning.”
This was not what Marlow needed to hear, but she was too sated to care. Tomorrow would yield the solutions she’d need to get back on a plane to her boring job and her infuriating boss and her judgmental family and her daughter’s lack of decision-making and their cramped apartment and Marlow’s Murphy bed containing no hunky nakedmaison de champagneowner.
After Madame Klein brought out a board of cheeses, then dessert, Guillaume took a phone call and stepped away onto the lawn.
“I’m so full,” said Sabine. “And desperate for bed.”
“Me, too,” said Marlow. “But things seem OK for the first time in about forty-eight hours.”
“This place is awesome. And Guillaume seems nice.”
“So far, he has zero strikes against him,” said Marlow. “Hopefully he’s not an axe murderer.”
She left the terrace to capture the moon over the vineyards on her cell phone camera.
Sabine heard a sound behind her. She turned to find Aubin, now in chinos and a T-shirt, approaching with a plate of food. Aubin of the forbidden grass incident.
“It’s you!” he said, sitting down, surprised.
“It’s you!” she said back. Equally surprised.
“So youareworking for my uncle.” Now it was clear. He was an heir to this unbelievable place—no wonder he came off so smug.
“Answer’s still the same. Nope.”
“Then it’s a mystery.”
“No again.Iknow why I’m here.” She knew she was being a bit petulant, but he was really starting to get on her nerves.
Guillaume returned to the table. So did Marlow.
“I see you’ve met my nephew, Aubin,” said Guillaume.
“I haven’t,” said Marlow. “Hi.”
Aubin stood up like some pretend gentleman and shook her hand.“Enchanté.”
