“Well, I have to say I’ve eaten in a few upscale French restaurants in New York, but this is head and shoulders above everything I’ve ever tasted.”
“Since you’ve never been to Paris, I wanted the chef to prepare a very classic dish. I doubt you’ll ever find a canard à l’orange this succulent in Manhattan since we don’t enjoy duck in America like they do over here. Pierre-Henry’s orange glaze is to die for.”
“Ci, Harley is right. Every time we leave here, Bryce wants to hire your chef and bring him back to New York. I won’t argue, the main was superb, but let’s talk about the appetizers. I’m not a fan of leeks, but what your chef prepared is insane.”
“I hear you. I’m the same, but Pierre-Henry’s poached leeks in a Dijon mustard dressing are heavenly, especially paired with a beautiful crusty French baguette.”
“What’s for dessert? Please don’t tell me he’s prepared a chocolate soufflé or else I might have to ask his hand in marriage.”
“That’s funny.” My sister nearly chokes on her wine at Harley’s joke.
“Harley, do you want dessert already?”
“Not yet, but I’m curious to know how your chef is going to top an already spectacular meal.”
“It’s funny that you mentioned chocolate soufflé because it’s the first dessert he suggested when I asked him for a classic French menu, but I’d have to watch that thing like a hawk when it’s in the oven. I much prefer hanging out with you two than slaving in the kitchen. And all of us here know that dessert isn’t my forte. I’m sure I’d end up burning the damn thing. Instead, we’ll have another favorite—a simple tarte au citron.”
“A what? Can one of you translate?”
“It’s a lemon tart and it’s one of our all-time favorite French desserts.” My sister locks eyes with me and I’m instantly transported back to our teenage years when we used to live in Paris. We’d spend weekends hopping from one pastry shop to another, gorging on as many sweets as our tummies could handle.
“Something tells me I’m going to have more than one slice.”
“Pierre-Henry isn’t only an amazing cook, he masters classic French desserts like no other. You’re going to enjoy the delectable dessert so much I bet I’ll find you with your head stuck in my fridge in the morning searching for another piece.”
“Gosh, you know me so well.” Harley winks.
I love living with Nikolaj and I adore our Paris apartment, but do I ever miss connecting with my little blonde bombshell.
“Now that we’ve got all the essentials covered and Harley will most likely never forget this meal for the rest of her life, how are the projects in Berlin and Hamburg?” My sister leans in to grab her glass before sipping the amber nectar.
“I won’t lie. It’s a lot to handle, but it’s such an honor to be able to work on these prominent projects, I really can’t complain that much.”
“Ciara, you’re always good at pushing yourself beyond your limits, but how are you managing all that work with Kayla’s new Paris contracts?”
I was so excited after my conversation with Kayla at the airport when she dropped the news about her acquiring the Chaville hotel, I couldn’t keep something that monumental to myself. Before I even had my butt at the back of our Benz, I had texted both Sofia and Harley to let them know of my new contract. Even though my mom and Diego are still on their honeymoon in Africa, I also dropped them a line to let them know of my good fortune.
“Kayla Ellison is the gift that keeps on giving. By the time things start rolling here in Paris, I’ll have wrapped things up in Germany. Trust me, Kayla is a master planner and she wouldn’t have allowed me to be scattered all over the place working on too many projects at the same time. The designs I’ll be doing for the Paris hotel and luxury complex are far too important to her company and I’ll be honest, this is the kind of work that’ll put my company on the international map. Kayla made sure there were no other distractions.”
“Does it mean my best friend will be in Europe for a while?”
“It does, Harl, and it also means you can come back to Paris and visit as much as you want.”
“I guess I can live with that.” She winks.
“Sis, is Aileen going to continue managing the New York office or are you planning on hiring someone else?”
“Nah, Aileen’s a pro. Since I’ve hired her she’s done a stellar job and everyone in the office likes her and respects her. I can’t ask for anything more.”
Earlier this year, I hired Aileen Baker, a kickass project manager with an impressive list of industry credentials, as my second-in-command. I travel too much to deal with the day-to-day, not to mention overseeing a team from across the Atlantic is nearly impossible. She’s the one taking care of our roster of American clients along with a number of talented project managers and designers.
“Are you going to be working with the team of designers and project managers you’ve been working with in Germany?” Sofia asks.
“I have three people in Germany and once the project ends, they’ll fly home to New York. For Kayla’s Parisian developments, I brought over my rock-star assistant Meghan Wheatley, Brandy Sables and Harry Sloan, two young but brilliant designers, and Lucie Garrett, my ace lead project manager.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember you talking about her. She attended a tough-as-nails school here in Paris, didn’t she?” My sister shakes her index finger as she puts two and two together.
“Lucie is a gifted designer who graduated from the illustrious École Nationale Supérieure des Arts Décoratifs. She’s incredible with design, but she excels when it comes to making sure every I is dotted and every T is crossed until we reach the finish line of every project we take on. The fact that she speaks French and understands the culture is a huge bonus.”
“Wow. That’s a very tough school to get into. Kudos to her for graduating.”
“I agree, sis. I hired Lucie right after school with very little experience. When I read on her resume that she had completed rigorous studies at one of Paris’ most prestigious elite schools, I was sold. I trusted my gut and it paid off big time.”
“I don’t know much about the French school system, but from what you guys have told me it seems that we have it pretty easy in America.”
“Harl, you have no idea. Some schools are so rigid it’s a surprise anyone ever graduates in this country.”
“I’m still happy Mom put us in an American school when Dad was transferred over here,” my sister says.
Sofia’s right. We would’ve never survived a traditional French school. “Totally. We were so much more preoccupied by the beauty of this enchanting city than by math, chemistry or physics lessons. You and I spent more time obsessing over French architecture and art history than focusing on our studies. It’s a miracle we ever got our degrees.”
“So true. I knew you were going to be seduced by the whole Parisian art scene since you were already like that in New York, but I was surprised to see how I was willing to follow my little sister at the expense of my grades. I think this city is what made me want to focus my career in real estate. I wanted to grow up to build those beautiful homes we drooled over during our Sunday expeditions throughout Paris.”
“Seems like vagabonding was the right thing to do.” I smile.
My sister and I high-five each other, but instead of a quick slap of our palms, we grip our fingers together and hold on tight for a few long seconds. Both Sofia and I have experienced some epic moments in our lives, but I don’t think anything will ever compare to the camaraderie we shared while we lived in the French capital. Since we had to leave all of our friends behind in Manhattan and making new friends in a foreign country is never easy when you’re an awkward teenager, it was her and I against the world.
“Ci, where are you going to be working from? I assume your local team won’t congregate daily in your chic apartment. I mean I’d never allow it if I lived in this breathtaking place.”
“Harley raises a good poin
t. How are you going to manage that, sis? Are you going to share a space in Nikolaj’s office?”
“Not only has Kayla Ellison the real-estate queen awarded me some of the most exciting projects of my career, she’s also been kind enough to find an office where my team and I can work from.”
“That’s great news,” Sofia says. “What a relief. I can’t imagine the complications of having to go at it alone.”
My sister’s right. Without Kayla, Meghan would be pulling her hair out trying to find a suitable space to accommodate us. “Tell me about it.”
“Is finding a decent office as challenging here as it is back home?”
“Even more so over here, Harl, and I’m very happy I don’t have to open the doors to my home as a substitute. The idea of having my employees come in and out on a daily basis is unacceptable to me because I cherish my privacy. Not to mention Nikolaj would have an absolute shit fit. The space I’ll be renting for the next few months is perfect. The fact that it’s located in the same building as Kayla’s Paris headquarters is a godsend. I won’t have to deal with Paris’ bottlenecked traffic to run to a meeting with my most important client.”
“Sounds like you have it all together, but I still tip my hat to you. I don’t think I could handle it with such poise and grace—all these different cities, multiple projects and foreign languages. I’d freak out.” Harley shakes her head before gulping down the last drop of her wine.
“You could totally handle it, Harl. The reason I haven’t been able to see my best friend every time I’ve been back home is because you’ve been dazzling hotel moguls and restaurateurs with your skills as a floral designer in LA.”
“That’s just work. I’m not about to walk down the aisle. No, seriously, how the hell do you not lose your head between all this work and planning two weddings on two different continents?” Harley gets up and walks to the bar to grab another bottle of wine before I can even answer.
Since I knew Sofia and Harley were coming to hang out with me for a few days, I’ve been intentionally vague in my text messages and phone calls with them. I want to see their reaction when I drop the news about my impending South of France wedding. Neither of them knows of the change of plans and I want to wait a little longer before the big reveal.
“I hire good people, just like you.” I grin. “Speaking of the devil, how’s the new assistant? Is he still manning the NYC office while you make your mark in la-la land?”
“Victor is my angel. He’s so talented and I’m so lucky I ever bumped into him. I can’t believe he was stuck at a dull desk job for so long. He has an impeccable eye for composition and he was wasting his talent doing admin work.”
Harley snatched Victor Noles from one of her distributors, who supplies her with the colorful flowers she uses in her arrangements. He studied at New York School of Flower Design and after a few years as a wedding floral designer for one of the top floral shops, he got burned out from working with hysterical and demanding bridezillas. After the over-the-top wedding of a prominent politician’s only daughter nearly sent him to the hospital for exhaustion, he opted for a cushy job with way less drama, but it didn’t take him long to get bored of his daily routine. Harley and Victor hit it off at the Bloom Floral Expo in Miami earlier this year and by the end of the weekend, she hired him as her assistant.
“So it’s working well, then?”
“It’s been only five months, but it feels like we’ve been working together for years. And we’re so in sync it’s not even funny. The best part is that his training from the London Covent Garden Academy of Flowers really elevates his skills. I can’t tell you how much our roster of high-end New York clients love the outrageously creative bouquets he comes up with.”
Every time she talks about her business, Harley’s eyes sparkle like Christmas lights. She’s so passionate about flowers, she could go on about them all night long. I guess her devotion to her craft isn’t very different from how zealous my sister and I are about our own professions. What we do is far more than just work, it’s a vocation.
“And you get to spend time in LA and Miami impressing more new clients.” I smile knowingly.
“I guess we do share something in common.” She nods. “But I only have to deal with Victor. You have a lot more people to manage.”
“You’re selling yourself short. With the right people in place, you can do anything. Trust me. I wouldn’t be half this brilliant without my team.” I tilt my head to the side and snap my fingers like RuPaul. “Don’t take my word for it, ask Sofia.”
“Yup. I’m living proof of that,” Sofia says. “I learned so much from the debacle of my first company and partnering with a weasel who swindled me out of my hard-earned money. I’ve grown a lot since my public humiliation, and I know first-hand how your entourage can make you or break you. My new team rocks. Let’s face it, the New York real-estate industry is cutthroat and there’s no way I would have gotten back on the map so fast without their commitment and brilliant work.”
I’m so proud of my big sister. I extend my hand and cover hers. “Sof, you’re the most courageous person I know.”
“Come on. Stop it.” My sister’s cheeks match her coral shirt.
“I’m with Ci on that one. You were two million dollars in the hole and on top of that you lost tens of millions more from that crooked asswipe ex-business partner of yours transferring everything you had in your business accounts to his offshore accounts. Despite it all, you kept your head high. I would’ve crumbled under the weight of owing so much money to so many people.”
“Not sure becoming an escort was holding my head high, Harley.”
“Honey, you did what you needed to do to survive, to keep a roof over your head and to avoid going bankrupt. Let’s not forget the cherry on the sundae—you only ended up having sex with one client. I guess I should say you ended up fucking the right guy.”
“You have such a poetic way of summarizing my life.” My sister grins at my best friend.
“Seriously, I don’t blame you for never revealing to your mom and dad how you and Bryce met,” Harley says. “If I were in your shoes, I probably would’ve done the same thing and protected my parents from the truth, but between the three of us here sitting on this magnificent deck on this perfect Parisian night, your love story is textbook Cinderella. You got your guy in the end.”
“Don’t you mean Pretty Woman?” I flash my sister a mischievous smile before returning my attention to my best friend. “And Vivian ends up scoring Edward, her rich Prince Charming?” I couldn’t resist. I’ve been teasing my sister about how eerily closely her life matches that of Vivian, the main female character in the cult chick flick. As much as Sofia tries to deny it, she knows it’s true.
“Oh, my God, Ci, you’re so bad.” Harley swats my arm for my cockiness.
“Funny, little sister,” Sofia snarls at me. “Harley, I’ll admit, it was strange luck—”
“Don’t you mean serendipity?”
“You say serendipity, I say luck.” She smiles. “Regardless, Bryce was the first and only paying client I slept with during my short career as an escort and he ended up being the man who helped me my rebuild my reputation, restore my dignity and regain every penny of the money that was stolen from me. Becoming his wife is definitely a phenomenal reward. Since we’ve been married, I’ve often wondered, if I could go back and tweak any part of that bleak period in my life, if it meant never meeting and falling in love with the man of my dreams, would I? And you know what?”
“What?” both Harley and I ask in unison as we lean in to catch every word coming out of my sister’s mouth.
“Unapologetically, I wouldn’t change a thing.”
Right on. I’ve told Sofia this many times, but she refuses the compliment. I don’t know if I would’ve had the guts to do what she did. I admire her tenacity in being willing to fight tooth and nail to remain afloat and to take responsibility for what happened to her. She could’ve pointed fingers and she could’ve
played the victim, but she didn’t. She was flat on her face for a while, but she got back up and now she’s standing tall again.
“I guess that’s what they call a blessing in disguise.”
“Touché, Harl.” I nod my head.
“Can I get an amen?” my sister chimes in, raising her hands above her head, as if we’re sitting front row in church on a Sunday morning at a Baptist sermon praising the Lord.
We all laugh.
“On a different subject, how are Tiffany and the kids?”
I’ve asked my best friend this question a few times when we’ve talked, but she’s always brushed me off and skipped to the next subject. Since our time on the phone has been limited due to our extensive travels, I’ve let it slide, but now that we’re face to face she’ll be forced to ’fess up. Harley’s evasiveness when it comes to her big sister usually means there’s a lot going on she prefers to ignore.
“Yeah, how are things with your sister, Harley? Ciara mentioned she’s really leaving her husband for good this time. I wanted to ask on the flight over, but we were chatting about silly stuff and having so much fun, I didn’t want to bring up anything that would dampen the mood.”
“Sofia, you’re the best and I so appreciate you not ruining it for me by forcing me to delve into a more dramatic part of my personal life. What can I say? Tiffany is still very much a screwup, but she’s finally close to getting the divorce she should’ve demanded years ago from the jerk she called husband for too long,” Harley says dryly.
“It’s a step in the right direction, right?” my sister asks.
“Tiffany got knocked up at seventeen and married that dumbass. It took him eight months to grow balls and be willing to take on his responsibilities as a father by asking her hand in marriage in the first place. She thought tying the knot would offer her a better chance at a good life since she was so young, but we all know how that story ends.” The bitterness in Harley’s words is palpable. “I knew from the first time Greg said hello to me when he came over to our parents’ house for dinner to announce he’d be taking care of Tiffany and the baby that he was a complete loser. It took my sister a few years and a whole lot of drama to catch up.
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