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Bien, oui,he thought. That you will. But he gently disengaged himself from her grasp, and with one final regretful nod at the young boy, turned and loped off in the direction of his house.
Though it was about two kilometers away, he trotted at a good clip, so it was mere minutes before he was home again. He shed his disgusting, muddy, sweat-soaked clothing, smiling almost ruefully at the sight he must have presented to Madame Meyer when she first saw him. No wonder she’d assumed he was some sort of bridge troll, bent on dragging her son down to his lair.
He showered briskly, and though he was hungry, he decided to make good on the promise he had made to disengage himself from this bizarre and foolhardy renovation project. To his mind, the best way to renovate that old rattletrap would be to drop a lit match and then stand well back.
He sat at his desk and fired up his email:
New Message
To: [emailprotected]
From: Corbin Durant
Subject: Withdrawal from project
Madame Abara,
It is with deep regret that I inform you that I am withdrawing from our previously discussed renovation project. Unfortunately, I foresee creative and personal differences between myself and your Madame Meyer. I therefore do not believe it would be prudent to continue.
With sincere apologies,
Corbin Durant
Corbin sat backand stared at the message, his cursor poised over the Send button. He wasn’t a man who chickened out easily, and in the two years since opening his business, he had never backed out on a project.
Should he really start now?
And then there it was again, the image of himself flat on his back while an enraged virago sat on him, arms windmilling as she screamed incoherently. He closed his eyes. Elle est folle, la dame. She’s out of her mind.
He hit Send and shut the laptop with a click.
