by K Larsen
Celeste tried not to let it bother her, but she wasn’t a fan of her husband’s assistant. Monique was a tall, beautiful model-esque woman who also happened to be an intelligent blood specialist. They spent more time together than she and Gabriel got to and it made her flutter with insecurity. She saw the way Monique looked at him when she thought no one was watching and she saw the jealous glint in Monique’s eyes whenever Celeste showed up to see her husband. It made her uneasy to say the least. She trusted Gabriel with her soul, but she didn’t trust Monique, not one iota.
Celeste applied mascara, a little eye shadow, added a touch of perfume to her wrists and neck, and headed downstairs to the smell of bacon and coffee. Gabriel. She sighed and smiled. He’d taken the time to leave her a pile of bacon—her favorite—and a half pot of hot coffee. He was always doing things like that. Grocery shopping, he’d carry in six bags to her three. In the winter she’d go outside to a cleaned-off car, warm and running, just waiting for her.
Even cleaning the house he helped out more than she had expected, and she’d noticed that even her hairbrush was always hair free. At first she’d thought it was odd that he’d do that for her but over time she figured he just liked his bathroom clean and hair free and she did shed a lot. When he shaved he always cleaned up the mess immediately, so it made sense.
Flowers die, Celeste had told Gabriel that when they first started dating. Not because they weren’t welcome or beautiful but because they weren’t everlasting. They contradicted everything her soul felt about love and her husband. So he began sending her plants. Within eight months, their garden was reminiscent of the Butchart Gardens in Canada. Every single time she looked out a window facing the backyard she smiled. The flowers and plants had bloomed and grew and spread over time, much like their love and relationship had. She smiled at the back yard and set her empty coffee mug in the sink—she needed to leave.
At the heart of Villiers sur Marne, in a private location enclosed by a stone wall, a charming Napoleon III property rose up from the hillside. The main house looked to be at least 400 square meters, with two Baltard pavilions renovated to the highest standards she’d ever seen. Matteo was Dr. Basle’s veterinarian. He’d been hired just over a year ago after graduating, and he’d taken a real shining to Dr. Basle. When the doctor had mentioned his groundskeeper leaving, Matteo had set Celeste up to meet with him in hopes she could replace the man leaving. She had been over the moon at the prospect.
Driving through the gate she passed by a sparkling pool accompanied by a cottage style pool house. The grounds were covered in trees and a French garden. She passed a gatehouse and various outbuildings, a tennis court and small stables, kitchen garden and greenhouses. A prestigious property on a human scale, full of historical charm. Matteo had been humble in his description of the place. She was thrilled that if everything worked out, she’d not only see Matteo regularly again but also have the job she’d always wished for.
Celeste climbed from the car, insects dancing and buzzing about her, and she started down a stone path in a rich-green lawn that looked and smelled like it had been freshly mowed. An older man stepped out from an alcove. A monk’s ring of hair and a full brow that seemed perpetually furrowed greeted her. “Ciao. You must be Celeste.” He looked rail thin. Thick lenses magnified his eyes and made them appear watery. She stepped closer.
“Yes. Dr. Basle?” she extended her hand now that she was close enough. Peering through his thick lenses, the doctor gasped. He laid one hand over his heart and stared at her. “It can’t be! The resemblance is amazing.”
“Is everything alright sir?” Celeste asked.
He shook his head and blinked. “I’m sorry.” He smiled but it looked forced. “Yes, yes. I’m Dr. Basle, but please, call me Leo.” He jutted his hand outward towards her. She took it. His shake was firm and brief. “Come, let’s sit in the kitchen.” He motioned to the door. Celeste followed.
Celeste noticed a tremor in his hands when he unzipped his jacket and hung it on a hook inside the door. She followed as they entered a den that flowed into a kitchen with a table and chairs, granite counters, bar stools, and ornate lights that hung from the house’s intricate box-beam ceiling.
Leo filled a kettle at the faucet before setting it on a burner. “Can I help with something?” Celeste offered. He waved her off, pulled two mugs from a cabinet and dropping in tea bags and lumps of sugar.
Steam whistled from the spout of the kettle, and Leo shuffled about to fill both mugs. Celeste declined milk. Leo set the mugs on the table and sat across from her dunking his tea bag. The mug shook when he raised it to take a sip.
“So, Matteo tells me you’re a fantastic gardener.”
Celeste blushed. Her green thumb was worth bragging about but she didn’t. It was her passion and she didn’t really care if she was good at it or not—she did it because it made her heart smile. “I’m flattered he would say that. I suppose my talents in the garden are nothing to sneeze at.”
Leo chuckled. “Well my dear, Matteo vouches for you and the grounds are too big for me to keep up with. I have an immediate need. The garden around back is where I need someone. The grounds are mowed by a crew every week, and Matteo takes care of the stables, not just the horses but the surrounding area as well. He’s a dear man. I’ve told him it’s not his job but he won’t hear it.”
“I’ve known Matteo for years, he’s definitely a good man.” Celeste grinned. She liked that Leo was fond of Matteo.
“The garden spans about an acre. There are all kinds of plants and landscaping to maintain but you’d also have free reign to add more as you see fit. Also, I’d like to do more around the pool eventually.” Celeste nodded. A dog padded over and stuck his head in her lap, a sign of affection. “You need some attention?” she asked, and gently caressed the dog’s head.
“Careful. He’s a master manipulator. What Max wants is some table food.” Leo said. She scratched Max behind the ears. Leo snapped his fingers and pointed, and the dog dutifully went into the next room and lay on the rug.
“Honestly Dr. Basle, the job sounds wonderful and I’d love to be a part of the crew here.”
“It’s Leo, please. I’d like to do a trial run. See how we both fit together and go from there, yeah?” Celeste beamed at him and nodded her agreement. “Fantastic. Come tomorrow, eight a.m. sharp, and I’ll give you the official tour of the grounds and introduce you to the others.”
“Thank you so much for the opportunity, Leo. I promise I won’t disappoint,” she rushed.
“I’ve no doubt. I’ll see you out to the stables. Matteo is here today and he’d think poorly of me if I sent you away without visiting him first.”
Celeste laughed and finished her tea. It had been a few weeks since she last saw Matteo and she couldn’t wait to hug him and thank him for thinking of her for the job.
Matteo sauntered lazily from the barn as she and Leo approached. He looked handsome in his blazer, jeans and muck boots. When he caught sight of them he picked up his pace. Celeste beamed at him and jogged to meet him. He wrapped his arms around her and twirled her once. “It’s good to see you fiore mio.”
“You too,” she replied.
“I’ve decided to let her stay.” Leo said in greeting when he finally caught up to them.
“Bravo, Dr. B,” Matteo chuckled. “You won’t regret it. You just watch, you’ll have the most stunning garden in all of France in a year’s time.”
Celeste blushed and shook her head. “Thank you Matteo for thinking of me.”
“I always think of you. Who else has a green charmed thumb of your caliber?” he laughed. She ruefully shook her head at him.
“Has he always been such a charmer?” Leo asked. Celeste liked Matteo’s nickname for him. Dr. B seemed fitting for the man. She turned to him and nodded vigorously.
“He’s hopeless really.”
“Well the animals love him—they’ll have to keep him company until he can find a good woman.”
; “Agreed,” she answered. Matteo did need a good woman. He was always dating and none of the women seemed to stick. It made her heart pang. She didn’t want him to be alone.
“When will people learn that I’m perfectly happy as I am?” Matteo cut in. Dr. B chuckled and threw his hands up in mock surrender.
“Fine, fine. I’m going to the study, Matteo. If you need me stop in. Celeste, it was a pleasure, I will see you tomorrow morning.”
Celeste reached out and shook Dr. B’s weathered hand and said goodbye. Matteo pulled her into his side as they watched him slowly shuffle back to the house. When he was out of sight Celeste turned in Matteo’s arm and squealed her excitement.
“This is amazing!”
“I’m glad to see you so happy,” Matteo returned.
“Happy? I’m ecstatic! Matteo,” she enthused and twirled around, “look at this place. It’s reminiscent of something from a fairytale.”
Matteo laughed, it was loud and genuine. “Ah, Celeste, your outlook is refreshing as always.”
She pushed his shoulder playfully. “Will you be here tomorrow?” She watched Matteo light a cigarette, the length of it hanging from his lips. She wasn’t fond of the habit but somehow Matteo managed to make it look good.
“No, I’m here about three times a week usually. Good luck tomorrow, not that you need it. You’ll be loved by everyone.”
“Thank you. Alright, I’d better get going. I think tonight calls for a celebratory dinner out! There are reservations to be made, a new outfit to buy and a husband to tell.”
“Then allow me to walk you to your car so you can get going.” Matteo ran a hand through his midnight hair and smiled widely at her. Hooking his arm at her elbow, they walked side by side to the front of the house and Celeste felt the strangest sense of peace.
Chapter 15
Annabelle
“I think of your betrayal. Which still echoes with your voice.”
~ L’ame Immortelle—Betrayal
Annabelle reviewed her work. Red suited Jezebel. It made her long delicate looking fingers look even more refined. She blew on them lightly as Jezebel inspected her free hand.
“You did quite well. They look perfect. Thank you.”
“Jez,” she started looking up, “why didn’t Celeste and Matteo ever hook up?”
Jezebel drew in a long, slow breath. “They were best friends. It’s complicated to explain I suppose. In a way, it worked out for the best. They really did value their friendship too much to risk ruining it by making it romantic. Are you not a fan of Gabriel?”
“No, no,” Annabelle shook her head. “It’s not that. He sounds perfect. Almost too perfect. I mean, no one can really be that wonderful right?”
“Oh, of course there were things that irked them about one another but darling, when you’re in love you tend to let those things go. For the greater good and what not. Not everyone is so lucky to experience a love like Celeste and Gabriel’s.”
Annabelle studied Jezebel’s mouth as she spoke. Everything about her was graceful, from the way she carried herself to the way her mouth moved while she told a story. Annabelle found herself wishing that she could be more like Jezebel.
Annabelle pulled out an electric blue nail polish from her kit as she pondered what Jezebel told her. “We have a little more time, would you do mine?” She held the bottle of polish out to Jezebel.
“I’m not sure how good I’ll be but let’s try. You can always wash it off if I butcher it.”
Annabelle laughed as Jezebel took the polish from her. “Deal.”
Jezebel grabbed her hand and squeezed. Annabelle could feel Jezebel’s contentment and joy flowing through her. She let go and the feeling lingered with her for a time.
On the bus ride home Annabelle wondered if her parents had ever been like Celeste and Gabriel. If they had, something inside them had been extinguished. Her chest tightened at the thought. Her parents still had decades left to live, to be happy, to enjoy each other. There had to be a way for them to get what they had back. What was the point otherwise?
Walking from the bus stop to her house she wondered if she suggested something as simple as painting her nails with her mother it would go over with the same ease as it had with Jezebel. She resolved to make the effort. For some reason, her parents felt the need to hide how broken they were, as if they were ashamed by their lack of progress in the grieving department.
When inside the house, she tossed her keys and purse onto the kitchen counter. She went to the fridge and stuffed two bottled waters into her arms and sought out her mom. She poked her head into the den. Her father sat on the couch alone.
“Hi Dad,” she called out softly.
“Hi Belle.”
Instead of leaving it at that, like she normally would, Annabelle took a chance. She walked into the den and planted her rear on the couch right next to her dad. She looked up at him wishing that he’d sling an arm around her, pull her close and kiss her temple. Or maybe he’d simply ask how her day was or what was on her mind.
He stared down at her. His eyes dissected her. Took in each detail of her face. She was utterly speechless because her father’s expression was so knowing. Like he looked inside her head and saw the thoughts that whizzed around.
His arm wrapped around her, tucked her into his side and he asked, “You know I love you right?” Unable to form words she nodded her response. He kissed the top of her head. “Dinner’s in twenty.” With that, he pushed off the couch and headed toward the kitchen, leaving Annabelle stupefied.
Dinner was yummy. Her father had cooked and it was delicious. In typical fashion there had been only curt conversation. Afterward, Annabelle put on music as she helped her mom wash dinner dishes.
“Mom, do you have half an hour? I thought maybe we could give each other pedicures.”
“Now? It’s getting late Belle,” her mom said with a hint of annoyance in her voice.
“Are you busy doing something else?” she pushed and set the last clean dish in the drying rack. She picked at the skin around her nail beds, fidgeting, waiting.
Her mother chewed her lip. “Well, no.”
“Come on. Please. It will be fun,” she urged. Her mother gave a soft smile and nodded. Annabelle threw her arms around her and squeezed.
They headed up the stairs, her mother following close behind her. She could hear the box fan on full blast humming from her bedroom. The air conditioner in her room had broken last summer and she’d never bothered to tell her parents because they never seemed to listen to her anyway.
Annabelle and her mom sat on her bed as she laid out all the necessary items for their mock-spa fun. She picked out a dark plum color for her toes and her mother laughed, citing that it was a very morbid look. Her mom chose a pale rose color that she said would complement almost anything.
“How very practical of you Mom,” Annabelle said with a roll of her eyes and gave her mother a sardonic smile.
Her mother shrugged. “Hey. They’re my toes.”
“Yup. Okay, let me fill up the tubs so we can soak first. Do you have any of those smelly salts?”
“Oh! That’s a great idea. You fill, I’ll grab the bath salts.”
Her mom scooted from the bed and hurried to the master suite. When she shuffled back into the bedroom, Annabelle had two comfy chairs pulled next to each other from her reading nook with soaking tubs at the foot of each and the bottles of water from earlier next to them. She watched her mother mix in the bath salts before plunking down into the chair next to her.
“Ready?” she asked holding her feet just above the water.
“Go!” her mother exclaimed. They sunk their feet into the plastic tubs simultaneously. She groaned at the feeling of the hot water seeping into her feet. Her mother rested her head on the back of the chair and sighed.
“This was a good idea Belle.”
“Thanks.”
“Your nails look nice, did you do those today?” her mother asked as her fingers traile
d over Annabelle’s fingers.
“Jezebel painted them for me. I did hers too.”
“Jezebel?”
“The lady at Glenview.” She answered.
“That was nice of you to do for her. You like her very much don’t you?”
“Yeah. She’s pretty awesome.”
“Good. You deserve that.”
Annabelle didn’t quite understand her mother’s meaning. It was an odd thing to say, she thought. She wanted to scrutinize and analyze everything her mother said but it would only ruin the moment so she bit her lip and stayed silent.
By eight thirty their toes were painted to perfection. She wiggled her toes at her mother and smiled. “Nice work.”
Her mother snorted. “I’m surprised I didn’t mess up. It’s been ages since I’ve done this.” Watching her mother push up from her spot, she felt hopeful and content. It had been fun spending the evening together. Her mother looked child-like as she moved through Annabelle’s room trailing a finger over things. Actually looking at her room. Her mom picked up the picture on her nightstand, her fingers tracing the outline of her brother’s carefree face. A pang of grief hit her. Annabelle studied her mother as she clutched the picture in her hands. Her knuckles growing white as she gripped it. The color slowly drained from her mom’s face and she set the picture back in its spot softly. Drawing in a deep breath she turned, faced Annabelle and walked past her. Annabelle followed her mom into the hallway, confused.
“I miss him you know,” her mother blurted out. Annabelle stood, unmoving, trying desperately to think of something to say, something that would ease her mother’s pain just for a brief moment. A million things passed through her mind but nothing came out. She watched as her mom walked distractedly down the stairs, leaving Annabelle standing in the hall, listening to her mother’s footsteps fading, and finally the sound of nothing. She suddenly felt lonely. The poisoned silence left in her mother’s wake felt like acid slowly burning her from the inside out.
