Now she needed to let Rémy know she’d be staying the summer. Guillaume offered to drive, but when she got to his garage, he was standing next to a moped, holding two helmets.
“If you are comfortable driving a moped, take this. So you and Sabine can get around.”
“What? No! We couldn’t possibly—” There was her WASPy inner voice again.Don’t look needy. Say no to favors. She eyed the very cute, bright green moped.
But wasn’t it rude to refuse? And she needed transportation. Even she could see that.
“You are too good to be true.” She accepted a helmet, and his hand brushed hers, sending a little shockwave through her.
Marlow rode past farms and pockets of houses. The bars and cafés were still closed, but one or two boulangeries along the way were bustling with people buying their baguettes, saying hello to neighbors and having apetit café. She hadn’t driven anything in years other than her bicycle in Toronto. The ride was a thrill.
Rémy’s car was parked in the Nenier lot, and she was heading up the Mirabelle stairs. Marlow caught up.Here we go. Be nice. Make her your friend.“Can I walk with you?”
“As you desire,” said Rémy, France-polite yet frosty, negotiating the uneven, mossy steps in her heels.
“I wanted to let you know that I’ll be living in Maison Perdue over the summer, so you don’t have to invoice me for the penalty.”
“Ah. You are staying.”
“Until September, when I hope my appeal will go through. I’ve arranged to do my job remotely, and I’ll do some work on the house.”
“Keep in mind that any work you do on the house must be done by local contractors,” said Rémy, “with the appropriate permits. I am sure you have met Lali. She can help find who you need.”
“I don’t see myself doing anything major,” said Marlow, sensing another trap.
Rémy shrugged as she pulled the skeleton key from her purse and unlocked themairiedoor. “You never know with these old houses. Things come up. Unforeseen things.Bonne chance.” She disappeared inside and let the door close behind her.
Marlow had the feeling that Rémy did not actually wish her good luck. But Marlow was determined to make some luck of her own. She headed for Lali’s house to find a contractor.
As she packed her bag, Sabine talked to Willa about the plan to live at Maison Perdue, a house with no electricity, a dead rat in the fridge, and weird brown water coming out of the taps.
“It’ll be like glamping,” said Willa.
“Minus the glam.”
“Cry me a river, you’re in France! More importantly, you were about to tell me what happened with Aubin when your mum walked in. You were in the rock park. And then?”
“Then apparently I kissed him.”
“Whaaaat? What is even happening right now? Who are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“And now you’re staying the summer,” said Willa, “and you’re working with him on the house. Got a photo you can send?”
“Nope.”
“Could you get right on that?”
“Nope. It meant nothing, Willa, get over it.”
“I demand a photo. Video. Wait—what’s his Instagram? I can’t wait to hear what happens next. Did he use his tongue?”
“Don’t be disgusting.” But yes, he’d used his tongue, and so had she, and there was zero gross factor, as there had been right at the end of the kiss with Brace-Face Boy at Jonathan Benson’s Grade 10 party.
“That’s not an answer!” said Willa. “He must like you. Do you like him? And was there tongue or not?”
“The kissing was a one-time thing. There won’t be more to tell.”
