“Non, non, jamais. Please come, if you can. Your sisters are coming and I know you are hoping to come with the others—it gives me something to look forward to after my daughters leave.”
“I’ll talk to Nico,” I promised, looking up at my brother as I said the words. “We’ll figure something out so I can be there.”
We said our good-byes, and I passed the phone back to my dad before recounting the conversation to Nico.
He nodded. “We’ll make it happen.”
My father continued on the phone for another few minutes with Sandrine, then hung up.
Silence hung over the table.
Another loss, that’s what it felt like. Another loss heading into the holidays, another memorial—one I wouldn’t be able to attend—another sense of missed opportunities.
Maybe learning more from Cécile wasn’t meant to be, but that didn’t make it easier.
I excused myself from the table and walked outside to the back deck.
The rain had stopped sometime in the last hour or so. I pulled my wool sweater close, ignoring the bite of the December air against my hands and face.
When I’d found that photo of Gabriel, so many months ago, it had seemed as though I had all the time in the world.
But I didn’t. At least, not enough to discover what I wanted to discover and share it with my mother, to find out what I could about her true father.
Losing Cécile felt like another failure, and I felt immediately guilty. Because I was supposed to be sad—sad without complications. Sandrine had lost her mother, after all, and her daughters their grandmother.
Standing outside let me clear my head, because right now my thoughts were a tangle of sadness and guilt.
But maybe that was the nature of loss.
I heard one of the french doors opening behind me, and a moment later Alex stood beside me with a cup of coffee. “You look cold. Gigi was looking for you.”
I accepted the coffee and gave him a kiss on the cheek as Gigi trotted toward me. “Don’t worry about me,” I said. “Sometimes a girl just needs a touch of fresh air.”
“Don’t stay out too long,” he said. “Dad’s on the phone with Oncle Henri, now. Henri’s talking about coming down next weekend.”
Henri. Their sibling relationship hadn’t always been easy, but Henri made several trips from Seattle after Mom’s illness worsened. She’d told him about the letters during one of his visits when she was sick; he hadn’t said much, only nodding and thanking her for telling him.
“It’ll be nice to see him,” I said, rubbing my arm with my free hand. “Are he and Tante Margueritte coming to Provence, did he say?”
“He mentioned it, but that they already have plans in Palm Springs.”
“Fair enough.”
“What’s Clementine up to tonight?” Alex asked.
“She’s working with her caterer friend. They’re doing a wedding.”
“Dinners are quieter since, ah…”
“Since Adrian and I broke up? You’re not wrong.” I shot him a rueful glance. “I told him he’s welcome to join us, but…”
“But it’s not the same. Especially since you were his reason for wanting to be there in the first place.”
I shrugged. “Me and Mom’s cooking.”
We were silent a moment. “It’s cold,” I said. “Let’s go in.”
Gigi and I drove home, Gigi buckled into the front passenger seat, her face resting against the inside of her fleece-lined car harness.
I saw flashing lights in my rearview mirror and pulled over as two fire trucks rushed by with lights flaring and sirens cutting through the Darlingside track playing over my car speakers. Another glance in my mirror showed an ambulance. I petted Gigi’s head while we waited. She rested her head on the edge of the seat and sighed.
When the road cleared, I pulled back out and continued down Glisan toward home.
I turned one corner, then another.
What I expected to see was my street after dark—quiet, gently lit by streetlights and the occasional porch light.
But I could hardly process the scene in front of me. The quiet replaced by shouting, the gentle lights replaced by the harsh lights of the emergency vehicles.
And at the center of it: my home. My home, my grandmother’s home. The space where she opened her bakery, La Petite Chouquette.
Two Blue Doors, the restaurant Nico and I had created together. A single building with so much history, and now flames licked up the sides.
I parked in the middle of the street, leaving all of my things inside, and strode forward as if drawn.
A strange hand on my shoulder. “Ma’am? Ma’am, you can’t enter that building.”
“It’s my family’s—I live here, I manage the restaurant.” I shrugged away, staring transfixed at the stream of water coming from the fire hose. “What happened?”
“I don’t know, ma’am.”
Another stranger in a uniform. “Was there anybody inside?”
“I…I don’t think so,” I said, reaching for my phone. Clementine said she’d be working late. “My roommate’s out, I think,” I answered even while I dialed. “The restaurant was closed today, the stoves weren’t even on.”
The line connected, and I held my breath while pressing the phone to one ear and covering the other with my hand.
“Juliette—hey. I’m on my way back,” Clementine said, sounding tired but fine. Alive. “I hope you like stuffed mushrooms. I’ve got a ton of leftovers.”
“Hi,” I said, my breath releasing in a whoosh. “There was a fire at the restaurant. I just needed to know where you were.”
“A fire? How bad?”
“I have no idea.”
“I’ll be there soon.”
I confirmed and hung up. “The place was empty,” I told the uniform to my right. “Can someone please tell me what happened?”
“The fire marshal will be able to tell you more,” he said, “but it looks like a fire originated in the kitchen.”
“With the kitchen closed, there shouldn’t have been anything to ignite. And our sprinkler system was up to code.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, ma’am. It still caught on fire, and it looks pretty bad.”
“How bad?”
“There were second-story flames when we arrived.”
I put a hand to my forehead.
It could have been bad. It could have been really bad, but instead it was just terrible—property damage, but Clementine and Gigi were safe.
Who knew about my computer, my clothes—the letters.
I swayed on my feet, and the two uniformed men—men who likely had names and families and lives, but at this moment remained faceless—kept me from tilting onto the pavement.
“Ma’am? Is there someone you can call? You can’t stay here tonight.”
I tossed the words around in my head for a few moments before a response began to formulate. “Call? Yes. I should make calls. I need to call my brother—he’s the chef. And my dad.” I raised my phone, not sure where to begin.
My head didn’t, but my fingers dialed of their own accord.
My fingers dialed Neil.
“Juliette?” he answered. I must have woken him. “Juliette, what’s going on?”
“There was a fire at the restaurant. I’m fine, Clementine and Gigi are fine, but, but I—”
“Are you there?”
“I’m outside, yes.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t go anywhere.”
I gave a short laugh. “I don’t know that I can.”
I hung up and realized that I was shivering—which made sense, because it was nearing midnight in December.
The firefighters had turned off the hoses, and I knew that whatever wasn’t burned inside had to be waterlogged.
My computer, in all likelihood, was toast. But the ordering records didn’t much matter, because I had a feeling that my dining room stood in
two inches of water. The kitchen equipment was probably fine, once it dried off.
Unless it rusted, I supposed. Did kitchen equipment rust? I felt like I should know, but I didn’t. At least, I didn’t at this moment in the middle of the street in front of my ruined home.
Nico would know.
I dialed Nico’s number.
Nico wouldn’t know about the upstairs, though, I thought as his phone rang. My clothes—Grand-mère’s clothes.
Grand-mère’s prep table. The letters—they’d gone back into the antique chest, the one at the foot of my bed. Maybe they’d survived—but the chest was wooden, and wood burned.
As I looked at the building, grotesque in the flashing lights, my heart clenched within my chest. I’d failed Grand-mère.
“Juliette?”
Nico’s voice snapped me out of my mental recitation of regrets.
“Nico. There was a fire at the restaurant.”
“What? How bad? Was Clementine there?”
“No, she was still on the catering job.”
“I’ll be there in ten. You hold down the fort, I’ll call the family, okay?”
“Okay.” I paused. “I called Neil.”
Nico processed that information. “Good. I’ll see you soon.”
I hung up; with the water off, I could hear Gigi barking in the car.
“Ma’am,” another one of the uniforms said, “my crew is still checking that the fire is fully out. The fire reached the roof on the south side.”
I nodded, wrapping my arms tighter around myself. “Juliette,” I said. “My name’s Juliette D’Alisa.”
He offered his gloved hand. “I’m Lt. Kerning.”
“How—how bad is it?”
“Too early to say. The bulk of the damage seems to be on the first floor.”
Hope flared. “Really?”
“Like I said, it’s too early to say. Old houses, fire can spread fast.” He put his hands on his hips. “The origin of the fire looks to be the wall behind the stove. My guess is that the wiring caught, smoldered until it flamed, and reached enough grease to become a problem. After that, the fire went up the wall to the outside, away from the sprinklers.” He shook his head. “Bad luck is what it is.”
The slam of a car door, the sound of my name being called.
I turned to see Neil striding toward us, already slipping off his overcoat. “You look like you’re freezing.”
Neil introduced himself to the officer while I took in his appearance. His hair was disheveled, his eyes creased with worry. He wore a sweatshirt and rumpled jeans; the overcoat was now draped over my shoulders.
One of the firefighters called out to the officer with us, and with a nod to let us know he’d return, he strode away, leaving Neil and me to ourselves.
“Your coat is warm,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Are you okay? Were you inside?”
“I’m okay. And no, I was driving home from a family dinner, and I came home to this.” I shook my head in disbelief. “I pulled over for the emergency vehicles. I had no idea they were going to my home.”
“They don’t know about the damage yet?”
“They don’t want us going in tonight.” I hugged my arms tighter. “Neil—the letters, the physical letters were in there. The letters, and my computer, and…and the Christmas decorations my mom gave me…”
Neil folded me into his arms as I began, finally, to cry.
“I know they’re just things,” I said against the soft fabric of his sweatshirt. “But they were my mom’s, and my grandmother’s, and I know,” I repeated, “that they’re just things. But without the people, I was fond of having the things. Now all I have are the memories.”
“Never discount your memories.”
“My memories feel threadbare after a while. I need the reminders.”
His hold tightened. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“Thank you for coming.”
“Of course,” he said, leaning back far enough to look down into my eyes. “Always. I…I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Nico’s on his way,” I told him. “But—you were my first call.”
Neil slipped his hand into my hair, cradling my head.
I lifted my face to his. “I’m not over you, Neil. It’s important that you know that.”
A smile flickered over his face, but my eyes slid shut before I could fully appreciate it. His kiss began tenderly, carefully, but deepened as we remembered each other. The familiarity of his scent, the feel of his nearness. I raised my hands to his face, needing the feel of his skin beneath my fingers.
Neil’s embrace turned fierce, and I could taste the fear, the anxiety that had driven him here. I met every new caress with one of my own, a reminder that I was there, we were together, we were safe. We created our own haven in each other’s arms, shutting out the melee outside.
Shutting most of it out.
A car door slammed, footsteps approached. “Hey, Juliette!” my brother’s voice called out. “Glad to see something good’s come of this.”
Cooking is one failure after another, and that’s how you finally learn.
—JULIA CHILD
Another car pulled up, and Clementine emerged. “Sweet Julia Child,” she said, taking in the scene. “What happened?”
Nico tipped his head to the side. “Romance can be incendiary. Look at the end of Like Water for Chocolate.”
Clementine’s focus shifted from the burned restaurant to Neil and me. “Oh. Oh.”
I looked up at Neil. “Will you forgive my family and friends?”
“Will you forgive mine?”
I gave him a quick peck at the corner of his mouth before stepping back, but I didn’t let go of his hand. “Hi, Nico,” I said, giving my brother a one-armed hug.
“Hi,” he said, rubbing my back.
“Our restaurant caught on fire.”
“It’s just a building,” he answered. “Nobody’s hurt. That’s what’s important.”
The fireman I’d been talking to earlier returned; I introduced my brother and let Nico get caught up.
Like me, he couldn’t believe that such a fire had happened.
“It’s old wiring,” Lt. Kerning explained. “The fire marshal will come and investigate and write up the report. A crew will remain on site to prevent anyone from trying to enter.”
“Do you know when the fire marshal will arrive?” I asked.
Lt. Kerning shook his head. “Depends on his caseload. We’ll contact you when he does. You don’t have to stay.”
“Oh.” We could go.
We could go, but I hated to leave. But Gigi was still in the car, panicking, and Clementine looked cold, and staying to keep the house company wasn’t exactly practical.
Never mind that we needed to sleep sometime, because the morning would bring a whole new set of challenges.
“Want me to drive you back to your dad’s place?” Neil offered.
I thought it over. “I wish you could, but I don’t want to leave my car here. Do you want to come over with us, though? I can promise hot chocolate.”
Neil gave a wry smile. “You don’t have to feed me, Jules. I’d come just for you.”
The four of us drove our separate cars to my dad’s place: Neil, Nico, Clementine, and me.
My dad and Alex greeted us with relieved hugs, celebrating our safety. My father held me close, his hug even more rib crushing than usual.
My dad offered food, of course. I asked for tea—after the evening’s events, my appetite was nowhere to be seen.
If he and Alex were surprised to see Neil, they didn’t say. My dad made him a sandwich.
Nico left when he felt we were safely settled. Clementine headed to bed in the guest room, the one that Alex and Nico had shared as boys. In the years since, my mother had replaced the carpet, painted it violet, and decorated in French toile prints.
Dad and Alex returned to bed shortly as well, leaving Neil and me alo
ne together downstairs.
I looked down at Gigi, curled into my lap, and back up at Neil. “We kissed tonight.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “We did.”
“We should probably talk about it.”
“We could. But there was also a fire at your home and place of work.”
I nodded. “There was.”
“So you might want to get some sleep.”
“I won’t be able to sleep. I’ll need to figure out what we’re going to do, how long repairs will take—if it’s even reparable. At the very least I need to look up our OpenTable account to look at our reservations so I can cancel them. And then there’s our vendors, and I’m feeling way in over my head.” I exhaled. “And Frank. I have to call Frank.”
“Frank’s your investor, right?”
“Correct. And aside from all of that—which is a lot,” I added, “there’s you.” I looked into his eyes, those eyes that I loved. “And that alone would keep me up all night.”
“So what are you going to do?”
I chewed on the edge of my lip. “I don’t know yet.”
“Want me to stay with you?”
“You’ve got work tomorrow.”
“So do you.”
Gigi groaned, stretched, and decamped from my lap to the empty space beneath the armchair. “Your students deserve better,” I said with a rueful chuckle.
He shrugged. “I drink coffee.”
I leaned forward and kissed him.
Kissed him, as if it were the easiest thing. As if we hadn’t been apart for too long.
I tilted my head back, my eyes focusing on his with effort. “You should go home and sleep,” I said. “Can I see you tomorrow?”
We walked to the door. I put a hand on the latch but stopped when Neil’s hands settled around my waist.
“That day at the river?” Neil pulled me toward him, and I didn’t consider resisting. “I thought I was hallucinating. You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Beautiful but so far out of reach.” His hand stroked my hair in small, gentle gestures, like he was trying to reassure himself that I stood in front of him. “Juliette, I love you. And if we start this again, I want us to make it forever.”
I inhaled sharply as I processed his words, but Neil shook his head. “Don’t answer. Not tonight. But if you want to know my intentions, there they are.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Together at the Table Page 17
