French Fry (The French Twist Series Book 3)

by Glynis Astie

It took me another minute to get control over my laughing fit. I was just happy I didn’t spray ginger ale out of my nose. I absolutely detested the stuff, but it helped to calm my stomach, so I begrudgingly drank it.

  “I’m sorry, Bluey. I was enjoying our wonderful juxtapositining.”

  He put down his fork. “Our what?”

  I shook my head at my choice of words. Why didn’t I remember to use more common sayings? After all, my French husband has only been in this country for a year and a half. His English is so good, I often forget his vocabulary is still slightly limited.

  “The vast difference in the sophistication of our meals.”

  He wiped his mouth with his napkin and smirked. My continuing penchant for tucking my napkin into the collar of my shirt put a fine point on my observation. I have truly taken to the idea of having my very own bib. With the advent of my pregnancy, I had become even more of a klutz! It saddens me to tell you I would have had to change my clothes several times a day if not for my added cloth protection.

  Louis held my hand from across the table. “Would this have anything to do with your meal consisting entirely of…what did Charlie call it? ‘Trailer park food?’”

  Leave it to my brother to teach my well-mannered husband such a crude reference. I slumped my shoulders in dismay. I had a bad feeling that the more years he spent in this country (more specifically under the tutelage of my father and brother), the more his beautiful French sensibilities would be bulldozed by our American ways. For the sake of our child, I had to impede the process as much as I could. I was counting on Louis to give this child an air of refinement. Lord knows this characteristic wouldn’t come from me!

  I put my hands in my lap. “What an unkind way to refer to my meal!” Yes, there was a grain of truth to it, but I would be damned if I would support Louis’ transformation.

  As my confused husband opened his mouth to object, the phone rang. “Hold that thought, Syd.”

  A quizzical look passed over his face as he inspected the caller ID.

  I was intrigued. “Who is it, Bluey?”

  His eyes met mine. “It is your parents.”

  My eyes searched for the clock to confirm the late hour. As I suspected – it was eight o’clock in California, which meant it was eleven o’clock in New York. My parents were definitely the in-bed-by-ten-at-the-latest type. I wondered if their holiday meal had run long. They did have both of my siblings and their families in the house this evening, so the possibility of mayhem was fairly broad.

  Louis handed the phone to me.

  I took a deep breath and pushed the TALK button. “Hello?”

  “DUCK!”

  My ears screamed in pain in response to my father’s jubilant greeting. The volume of his voice increases in direct proportion to his happiness, so my mom must have outdone herself with dinner this evening. Nothing puts him in a better mood than a scrumptious meal.

  Holding the phone a safe distance from my head, I attempted to join the conversation. “Hi, Dad! Merry Almost Christmas!”

  “Merry Almost Christmas to you too, sweetheart. And Happy Belated Chanukah.”

  As I was about to ask if he had remembered to blow out the candles in the menorah (long story), I heard a clicking noise and my mother’s voice came over the phone line.

  “Teddy? Who are you calling at this hour?” She sounded exhausted and extremely irritated—not a good combination. What exactly had they gotten up to tonight?

  “Hi, Mom!”

  Her voice immediately softened. “Is that you, Syd?”

  Since her other children were currently in her home, process of elimination would naturally lead her to me. But I wasn’t going to give her a hard time about it since she had her hands full with my father. I could already hear the army marching songs wafting over the phone line. He must have dipped pretty far into the cognac this evening.

  “Teddy! For the love of God, please stop singing!!!”

  My father’s off-key notes came to an abrupt halt. “Sorry, Lyn.” He even had the good grace to sound chastened, which led me to believe this was the umpteenth time he had been asked.

  My mother cleared her throat. “Now, Syd, how are you feeling?”

  Unconsciously, I rubbed my midsection. “Not bad, Mom. Although my stomach is a mess.”

  My dad piped in. “Are you still surviving on the trailer park food?”

  I closed my eyes and sighed. You really can’t take my family anywhere. My poor baby was going to be fighting a losing battle with dignity. It was all part of being a Bennett. When my thoughts veered to Louis’ mom, I realized chances weren’t much better on the other side of the pond.

  My mother tutted her disapproval. “Teddy! How wildly inappropriate!” Nice effort, Mom, but it didn’t make the statement any less true.

  “Um, yes, Dad, I’ve been sticking to those foods. At least they stay down.”

  My mom cleared her throat. “Syd, surely there are other foods you can eat which would be better for the baby.”

  I balked at her statement. It had taken me a month to come to terms with the reality of my new diet, but I had finally done it. Dr. Bauer wasn’t thrilled with the lack of fruits and vegetables, but as previously mentioned, I had been able to buy organic, low-sodium versions of my favorite foods. Nevertheless, there was no denying my diet was carb heavy.

  “Well, Mom, I tried to have a banana the other day, since it doesn’t have the high amount of acid other fruits have.” I paused. I would have to give it to her straight. “The taste was overwhelmingly awful, so I spat it out and ran to brush my teeth. I was in such a hurry to get the taste out of my mouth that I brushed too vigorously and accidentally caught the back of my throat. You can imagine what happened next.” There was no need to elaborate further.

  Another voice came on the line. “That’s nasty, little sister!”

  I laughed in spite of my disgust at the memory. “Thanks, Charlie. It wasn’t an experience I’d like to repeat. I wish I had your wife’s constitution.”

  Zoe, thus far, had been the model pregnant woman. She ate a balanced offering of organic fruit, vegetables, breads and cheeses. Her status as a vegetarian only improved her chances of a healthy low-fat diet. She had not experienced the slightest bit of morning sickness, did prenatal yoga every day and got plenty of rest. I felt like such a failure in comparison.

  “Don’t worry, Syd, you’re doing just fine.” When did Zoe get on the line?

  My father raised his voice. “What’s with all you yokels hijacking my phone call?” There was a rather large degree of slur to his voice. Someone needed to get the poor man some water and a comfortable bed.

  My mom spoke to him in soothing tones. “Say goodnight to Syd, Teddy. It’s time for bed.”

  “Goodnight, Duck! I love you, crazy girl!”

  I chuckled. “I love you too, Dad.” Go sleep it off, old man. My, how the tables have turned. I’m not going to lie; it felt a little strange. I guess I may as well get used to it. I AM about to be somebody’s mother.

  “Hey, Syd! How was your gourmet dinner?” Welcome to the party, Kate!

  “Wonderful! How was yours?”

  A burst of giggling came over the line. Both Kate and Zoe found something absolutely hilarious.

  “I wish you could have seen it, Syd! Dad was so happy at the prospect of having three grandchildren, he emptied his bottle of Cognac before we’d even had dessert.”

  Zoe chimed in. “Then came the dirty jokes. Your mother turned purple!” she broke off into a snort.

  “And no matter what we did, we couldn’t get him to stop using profanity. Mrs. Jones was horrified!” More snorting and giggling. (Mrs. Jones was a very uptight woman my mother knew from her days as a Financial Analyst. My mom should have known better than to invite her to a holiday meal. Dad’s behavior is entirely predictable at a holiday function in his own home. Swearing is a given.)

  The next thirty minutes were spent passing the phone around the family, hearing about everyone’
s favorite moments from the evening. Louis and I nearly lost it when we heard about my niece Samantha’s delight at throwing marshmallows into her grandfather’s mouth. I wondered how all the sugar from the marshmallows was going to combine with the majority of the bottle of Cognac. Christmas morning was not looking good for my father.

  When I hung up the phone, I had a grin plastered on my face which would not fade. I was glad we had stayed in California, but I desperately missed my family.

  To my surprise, Louis took me by the hand and led me towards the nursery nook, formerly known as the office nook. With a sweeping motion, he indicated I should remove the sheet draped over a large rectangular object. What was he up to? Giddy with anticipation, I removed the sheet to find a beautiful white crib assembled where his desk used to be.

  While I was still in shock from the gorgeous new bed for our bundle of joy (and wondering how he had managed to swap out a rather large piece of furniture without my knowledge), he handed me a small velvet box.

  Thoroughly enjoying my jaw-on-the-floor reaction, he whispered, “I know we agreed to wait until tomorrow, but, Merry Christmas, mon coeur.”

  I looked back and forth between Louis and the crib, all the while clutching the velvet box in my hands. “But how did you? When? I…”

  He laughed. “Open it, Syd.”

  I lifted the lid to find a gorgeous necklace. There were two pearls, one white and one black, surrounded by diamonds in an infinity pattern. Louis had managed to take my breath away yet again.

  “This is incredible.” My eyes filled with tears. “You’re the kindest, most generous man I’ve ever met. What have I done to deserve you?”

  Louis kissed me tenderly. “It is I who ask myself this question every day.”

  Here go the water works. Please tell me I will manage to gain control of my emotions. I CANNOT be a basket case for the next six months.

  Louis pulled me into his chest and stroked my hair. I gratefully snuggled into him, burying my head in his intoxicating scent. There was nothing like close quarters with my husband to bring back my equilibrium. That and the reminder I was going to be someone’s mother. It was a valiant team effort.

  “Better, mon coeur?”

  I gazed up at him lovingly. “Much.”

  “Good. Now, if I may—”

  “Bluey, I…” Come on, Sydney. Tell him.

  He waited patiently for me to finish my thought.

  I took his hands in mine. “I’m sorry.”

  He looked puzzled. “For what?”

  “I’m sorry our time together has been so short.”

  Panic registered on his face. “What exactly are you telling me?”

  I felt the tears coming again. Damn it! “We’ve barely had any time together, just the two of us. And now…” I hiccupped. “Now our lives will be consumed with taking care of this tiny person. We won’t have time for each other anymore.”

  Louis visibly relaxed. “You sure know how to scare a guy, Syd. I thought you were leaving me.”

  I stared at him with wide eyes. “I would never leave you! I thank my lucky stars every day to have found you.” I threw my arms around him and held him tightly to emphasize my point. “Even if I’m a cradle robber…and I’ve made you a father at such a young age…” Cue the bawling.

  “Syd!” He held my face in this hands. “So we are a little ahead of schedule. Does it really matter?”

  “But…”

  He put his finger on my lips to silence me. “We are happy, mon coeur. That is all that matters.” He paused. “And you are not a cradle robber! I am only four years younger than you.”

  We both laughed at the stress-induced statement of my puma status. (Duh! I’m too young to be a cougar!)

  Louis put his forehead to mine. “Enough of this nonsense. I would like to see this necklace on my lovely bride.”

  After he helped me put on my gorgeous new necklace, Louis pulled me back into his arms. “From the moment our baby is born, I know I will come second.” He put up his hand to silence my protests. “And it is alright. This is how it should be. I wanted to give this to you as a reminder that you will always be the love of my life and the mother of my children.”

  Ah, he loved me and our budding family infinitely. A beautiful sentiment from my math nerd of a husband. Maybe there was hope for our unborn child yet.

  Chapter Ten

  We were now a week into the new year and I keenly wished I could go back to my holiday vacation. Louis and I had spent a blissful week following Christmas watching movies and eating leftovers. He was delighted with the Bruce Lee box set I bought him, in addition to the plethora of martial arts instructional videos Bastiaan had secretly advised me to purchase. How Louis could sit there for hours and watch a tiny—albeit brilliant—man in a yellow suit kick the crap out of people was beyond me. Although, I’m sure my love for Sense and Sensibility was lost on him. (Jane Austen in any form is absolute bliss in my book.)

  I have to hand it to him though; he conducted himself in a very respectful manner. He didn’t roll his eyes or make smart remarks. He quickly handed me a box of tissues and escaped to the bedroom. Apparently, I’m not my most attractive when I weep uncontrollably.

  Fresh off my holiday buzz, I have spent the last week explaining the intricacies of our new benefit plans to a good portion of the employee population and generally dealing with the fallout of open enrollment disasters. It never fails. Every fall, I explain how the limited window available to make changes to benefit plans for the following year closes long before the holiday season. Every January, people come in asking to add a person to one of their insurance plans.

  Normally, I would smile and patiently explain the SAME details I explained a mere two months before, but now, I have to mentally chastise myself for wanting to throttle each and every one of them. I have received a number of strange looks this week, so I gather my facial expressions haven’t been as neutral as I would like. I even sent a new employee running for the hills with what I can only imagine was my death stare. In my defense, I had explained the same concept five times in a row. It wasn’t rocket science! This little incident will be stellar material for my upcoming performance evaluation.

  I was quite lucky Vivian had known me for three years during which I had functioned as both an intelligent AND sane person. I had been an exemplary employee, earning three promotions in my three years with the company. It was probably this spotless history which would save my ass if I didn’t get things together soon.

  Human Resources just isn’t a good occupation for a pregnant woman. You have to have mad diplomacy skills, which isn’t exactly like lying, but there is a lot of omission and redirection. Bottom line: you have to be able to tolerate a lot of bullshit. The further I journey into this pregnancy, the less tolerant I become of said bullshit. Does anyone else see a disaster brewing?

  OK, Syd, you have to start focusing on the good and not the…intolerable. Deep breath. Here comes my inner cheerleader! This is the year in which our baby will be born! And we are only four weeks away from possibly finding out if we are having a boy or girl. Of course, the baby must cooperate by, um, maintaining a suitable position. I chuckled, realizing this would be the one time Louis would approve of our little girl spreading her legs.

  I was still laughing to myself when Louis walked into the apartment carrying a rather large rectangular box. “Hi, honey! I’m home!”

  I rolled my eyes at him. His latest attempt at making me laugh involved pretending we lived in an eighties sitcom. I don’t blame him for thinking out of the box. I have been a bit, um, difficult lately.

  Trying to start things out on a good note, I smiled beatifically at him. “What’s in the box, Bluey?”

  His eyes lit up. “It is from my mom.”

  I caught my breath and felt all the blood drain from my face. Thank goodness I was already lying down on the couch. Had I been standing, my rapidly expanding backside would have been on the floor by now. Louis quickly put the box down and
came over to me.

  “Mon coeur! I am so sorry. I did not mean to scare you. She cleared this package with me first.”

  I examinedhis face. While the knowledge of his request for—or at the very least authorization of—the contents of this box did make me feel a little better, it didn’t remove the alarming quality of the giant cardboard chasm in its entirety. His mother had a way of fulfilling requests with creative reasoning. (Read: sneaky.)

  As I tried to master my wayward emotions, Louis gently caressed my face. “Relax. Let me show you what is inside.” He jumped up from the couch and started to open the box. I elected to stay in my safe couch cocoon, reserving the right to pull the blanket straight over my head if the items in question were suspect.

  Maybe she decided to send her version of baby boy supplies. Don’t kid yourself—her garish taste could easily result in another scary assortment of clothing. She has the unique ability to find the most innocent items and fill them with far too much…flair. I shuddered involuntarily as my mind conjured up an assortment of bedazzled army fatigues, fluorescent character ensembles and clownish, well, everything else.

  I heard the sound of glass clinking as Louis pulled items from the box. That was unexpected. What in the world did she send him?

  Louis gingerly lifted a slender green bottle and brought it over to me, presenting it with great pride. I took the bottle and examined the label. It was gorgeous! There were beautiful colors, elegant script and a perfect fleur de lis. The script formed the name…Le Durand. OUR name is on the bottle!

  I began to bounce up and down excitedly. “This is the amazing red from your uncle’s vineyard, right?” I may have had a little too much of this delicious wine during the visit for our French wedding last year. I had been operating under the theory that a little alcohol would help my nerves. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for the theory to become A LOT of alcohol. The results were less than optimal. Lesson learned.

  Louis started bouncing right along with me. I love when he gets as excited as I do about things!

  I beheld the bottle with longing. “I can’t wait until I can drink it.”