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“I know.” She continued making me something to eat. “He never has women here.”
“What? But you said with Mademoiselle Chantal there were a lot of deliveries.”
“True. All packages came here, but she stayed downstairs.”
“Like me?”
“No. Downstairs in the guest apartment.”
“Guest apartment? I don’t understand?”
“Monsieur, never have women stay here.” She placed a bowl of berries and yogurt in front of me.
“Merci.” I bowed my head and said a soft prayer. “Amen.”
“Amen.” She smiled. “You are very good for him.”
“I am?”
“Oui.” She placed a glass of water in front of the bowl.
“You were saying about the other women…”
“Monsieur never let them stay. He always keep them downstairs. If he wanted…to be intimate,” I smiled at her trying to be discrete. “He would go downstairs.”
“He would?”
“Oui. He never have them here.”
“Did he say why?”
“No. I just knew they were not…I know he did not…”
“Mademoiselle Chantal never stayed upstairs?”
“No. She came up for breakfast and one dinner. I didn’t like her.”
I smiled. “Why not?”
“Grossier, méchant, égoïste.” She shook her head frowning. Some words translate very well. “Please forgive.”
“I understood what you said.”
“She never attempt to speak French, not even merci. She demand we only speak Anglais.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. That offend him, but you…he smiles and is excited to see you considering him. He says you will be back soon for a visit.”
“He did?”
“Oui. I like you. We will be friends.”
“I like you, too.”
“Don’t hurt him.”
“I won’t.”
