All awaits us in the attic of Dakar.
Until we meet again,
Your loving wife,
Lucie
Chapter Forty-two
Emma and Blondine were scheduled to return from Paris that afternoon. Rosalyn steeled herself, knowing she would have to tell them about Émile.She should be good at this.After Dash died, she had been forced over and over again to share such words, the ones that cannot be grasped or taken back.
The words that, once uttered, meant the world had changed.
Rosalyn was in the tasting room fixing a cup of coffee when their car pulled in. Blondine carried several shopping bags, and through the window, Rosalyn could see André taking packages out of the trunk. Blondine was effusive and flushed, but Emma seemed subdued, not her usual ebullient self.
“I take it you had a good time,” said Rosalyn, as they came into the tasting room, “or at the very least, anexpensivetime.”
“Smell this,” said Blondine, thrusting a slender, pale wrist toward Rosalyn. “Is that not the most divine scent you have ever smelled?Absolument divin.”
“Parisian perfumeries,” said Emma. “Hard to get any sweeter than that.”
Dutifully, Rosalyn took a sniff. The scent was woody but subtle and sophisticated, precisely what one would expect from a Parisian perfume.
“You’re right. It’s divine.”
“Emma got one for you as well,” said Blondine. “A different kind, though, so we don’t smell the same.”
“That’s so generous, and completely unnecessary,” said Rosalyn.
Emma waved her off. “Nonsense. Why bother visiting Paris if you’re not going to buy perfume? And you know how those salespeople can get,très snob.Qui se la pète?I love shocking them by buying the place out. What’s money for if not to embarrass snooty salespeople? Anyway, we tried to guess what would suit you, but if you don’t like it, feel free to regift it to a friend.”
“Que-ce que c’est‘regift’?” asked Blondine.
Emma explained the concept to a confused Blondine while Rosalyn dabbed a bit of the amber liquid on her wrist. It was heavenly, a blend of jasmine tones over a base of bergamot and amber.
“I love it. Thank you so much. Did you get some for yourself? A signature scent?” asked Rosalyn.
“I already have more perfume than I can use in this lifetime,” said Emma.
Again, Rosalyn sensed a slight dampening of Emma’s usual upbeat nature. Was it the conversation they’d had before she left? Rosalyn should speak to her alone and clear the air; the only thing worse than experiencing grief was taking those feelings out on other people through anger. Emma had offered nothing but friendship and support; she certainly didn’t deserve that.
“One more thing,” Emma said as Blondine handed her a bag from Magasin Sennelier, an art supply store.
Rosalyn peeked inside to find a set of oil paints, brushes, and solvent.
“André insisted,” said Emma. “Drove us all over the Marais searching for just the right set. We found plenty at Rougier and Plé Filles du Calvaire, but they weren’t good enough. He wanted you to have the perfect one. He’s got several blank canvases in the car as well.”
Wordlessly, Rosalyn ran her hand over the beautiful set of paints. The gift of perfume was touching, but this was something else entirely. She glanced out the window, but André had long since disappeared.
“The shower’s great in thegîte, so I’m not about to complain about the accommodations,” continued Emma. “But good heavens, we need something to spruce up those guest rooms. Blondine keeps mentioning your sketches, and André noticed them the other day as well. Maybe you should make the walls your canvas, leave a little of yourself behind.”
“That’s a great idea,” said Blondine. “My mother helped with the decorations here in the tasting room, but my father and I don’t have much of a sense of these things. You should feel free to paint champagne on the walls!”
“Are you sure about that?” Rosalyn asked. “Wouldn’t you like to approve a sketch first?”
“Why?” Blondine said with a shrug. “I trust you. Besides, we’ll just have Pietro paint over it if we don’t like it.”
Rosalyn laughed. The idea appealed to her; it felt like permission to be a naughty child, painting the walls.
