by Avril Rose
“Will you keep your heels on later?” I whisper in her ear.
“If I can still stand them,” she jokes.
***
“Zoe, that dress is gorgeous,” Olivia says warmly to my date as we join them at the restaurant.
“Thanks, Olivia. Same to you.”
Olivia is usually quiet when she doesn't know someone, but tonight she’s a real blabbermouth. She and Zoe get along great, talking as if they’ve known each other for years. They do have a lot in common, after all: their characters, the difficult things they’ve faced, their sense of direction in life.
I’m thrilled as I watch, participating at times in their conversation, but mostly just talking with Ethan. We’ve never been on a double date together, much to their dismay, and I have to admit, it was a great idea.
I always thought I’d never see the day where I got to introduce a woman to my best friend. Tonight, I was surprised to realize I was afraid Olivia wouldn’t like her. There are a few people whose opinions count for a lot, and Olivia is clearly one of them.
I’m so pleased. No storm clouds on the horizon. Everything is perfect.
12
Zoe
I’ve been in heaven since Liam and I made up. I was so relieved to have been mistaken about that night at the Baron.
I’ve been in fairy-tale land, surrounded by pink elephants and purple giraffes, since we cleared up our misunderstanding two weeks ago.
We’ve spent almost every night together since. I get up every morning, already anxious to see him again that night, checking my phone constantly for his texts, jumping for joy any time he calls. I feel like a teenager in love for the first time. The butterflies in my stomach have become my faithful companions. What an amazing feeling!
Each time we meet, it's incredible, erotic, passionate. We’re insatiable and our desire is just as intense every time. We're getting to know each other at our pace, between two love-making sessions, two breaths.
We go out for drinks in the charming bars of Paris, then we spend the night at his place or mine. I love wandering the streets with him, my hand in his. I love it when he stops to look at me, to caress my face with his fingertips before leaning down to kiss me, unashamed. We don’t worry what people will think; we’re alone in the world, in our little bubble.
So, this is what everyone's been going on about? The passion at the start of a relationship? I’d heard of it, but didn't really believe it since I’d never experienced it myself.
How long does it last? What happens then?
I feel happy and stressed, glowing and scared. It’s official: I’ve fallen under the spell of Liam Desages.
***
I’ve spent the last few minutes admiring Liam’s fine facial features as he sleeps peacefully.
I can’t believe how gorgeous this man is. And he’s right here, next to me! Pinch me, I must be dreaming!
I finally manage to pull myself out of bed. I prepare some coffee and put the Italian espresso pot on the stove. While I wait for it to be ready, I pick up my phone for one of my daily rituals: checking my e-mail. I start to sort through things, deleting a dozen advertisements that seem to pop up every day.
I stop when I realize one of them is from my bank. Strange... usually my cash loan applications are confirmed directly over the phone by my banker.
I open the e-mail, curious and confused.
* * *
From: Business Loan Department
To: Zoe Pasquier (Temple Coffee)
Subject: Your application for a working capital loan
Dear Ms. Pasquier,
We regret to inform you that we cannot grant your request for a working capital loan in the light of your company’s risk of insolvency.
Your adviser is available to provide any further information on this decision, which we understand may seem stringent.
We hope you will find a way to deal with the recurring difficulties your company faces and we are at your disposal to guide you with alternative solutions.
Do not hesitate to contact us should you have any questions.
Sincerely,
Mr. Antoine Fabre,
Business Loan Department Manager
* * *
What's all this? They're turning down my loan? Why? Insolvency?! Recurring difficulties?! This is ridiculous! It must be a mistake...
I pour my coffee and eat breakfast like a robot. I'm in shock from this e-mail. It’s a mistake, a simple mistake. So why am I so worried? Can they really do that? They’ve been supporting me from the start. We’ve always worked with them, starting with my dad.
Liam’s voice brings me back to reality.
“You should have woken me, Zoe,” he says softly, gently kissing my neck.
“Oh... Yeah, sorry, I was reading my work emails and I didn’t see the time,” I reply, sounding unintentionally distant but trying to smile.
“It’s no big deal, I’m still on schedule,” he says, taking the mug of coffee I hand him.
I'm lost in thought again, my nose buried in my steaming cup of joe.
“Zoe? Is something wrong?” he asks worriedly as he places his hand on mine to get my attention.
"Uh, yeah. Well, no. I don’t know, actually,” I say, feeling lost.
“And, would you like to talk to me about it?” he asks, being careful not to push.
“I just got a strange e-mail from my bank. My cash loan application was turned down. But it must be a mistake.”
“Had you asked them for one before?”
“Yeah, every year at about the same time. And they’ve always accepted. I don’t see what would justify it this time. No, it must be a mistake,” I say, trying to reassure myself.
“Do you have less business right now?” he asks hesitantly.
While I don’t talk about my business very much, talking to Liam about it seems easy.
“No, quite the opposite. My customer base is loyal and growing. The problem is the building fees. We own the shop and that’s what’s hurting profits. We had to do some work to bring the building up to code the last few years. And this year they’re asking for more. But it’s nothing crazy. I just need some extra cash flow, but my projected numbers are on target. I know for a fact that I would have no problem repaying the loan. What surprises me most about the e-mail is that the bank is accusing me of insolvency. It's just not true! And they mention ‘recurring difficulties’... it makes no sense. We’re just talking about some one-time costs that I’ll be able to reimburse in a few months, tops. And what’s more, it’s the last round of construction work, after that Temple Coffee will be making bigger profits! The e-mail is nonsense!”
I stop to catch my breath.
“Sorry, it’s not even seven o’clock in the morning and I’m going on and on.”
“No, please. It’s fine. On the contrary. Can I ask you something?”
"Of course!”
“Have you thought about selling your share of the building and renting from the new owner? To improve your finances?”
“Yeah, of course, I’ve looked into that. But I don’t want to take the risk of losing that space. What if the new landlord decides to end my lease? It would be the end of Temple Coffee. And I can’t take that risk. That place is all I have left of my dad.”
I think back to Richard Lecomte’s tempting offer, the henchman of that American businessman, Anderson. Accepting his offer would be selling my soul to the devil. A hotel complex where Temple Coffee used to be? Never.
“Let’s say that happens, couldn’t you reopen the same concept somewhere else?”
Even thinking of this disastrous outcome makes my heart pound and my hands shake.
“No. Moving the shop somewhere else... I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like a family home full of memories that you’d sell for a new one. The memories wouldn’t survive the move. Do you see what I mean? Temple Cof
fee is full of history. My dad invested all his time and money in that place. I took my first baby steps there. All of our family events were held there. We went through the hardest and the most magical times in that shop. By keeping the space as it is, it’s like a part of my dad is still alive. It’s not just a place to work, you know? It’s so much more than that.”
I think about what I want to say next.
“You know, I know full well that I’ll never get rich with the coffee shop. To make a lot of money, I’d need to expand, open other cafés. But that’s not my goal. What I want is to preserve that cocoon and make a decent living from it. Nothing more."
He must think I’m from another planet to have such different life-goals than he does.
“Your way of seeing things is rather unique. And the total opposite of mine,” he admits, smiling.
I invite him to continue.
“Winning new cases is what gets me out of bed in the morning. My dad always taught me it was the key to success, to always be one step ahead, to always be growing and expanding. I don’t see how I could feel good about my work if I just took what came along. I need new challenges to feel stimulated. And I’m not ashamed to say that I like money, and the more I have, the better I feel.”
“Do you think money is the key to happiness?” I ask, needling him a little.
"No, of course not. But you have to admit, without money, everything is more complicated.”
“True friends and family are the most precious things and what makes a life rich. Money deforms relationships.”
“Some of them, yeah,” he agrees.
I smile at his reply. It’s nice to talk to Liam. He makes everything easier, even when we have completely opposite opinions.
“My personal experiences have made it so I have different goals in life. But I support your right to be an opportunist,” I joke, winking. “Speaking of which, what’s your next challenge?”
He pours himself another cup of coffee, takes a sip, and begins.
“My father’s dream was always to expand into the U.S. Given his health problems, I promised my mom to do everything in my power to make sure he works less this time around. I also promised to make his dream come true. I seized a really great opportunity a few weeks ago. I’m currently working for a new client, someone who’s very important and influential. The head of an international corporation. The work he has me doing is clearly a test. Rumor has it he’s looking for a new firm to represent his corporation. Their headquarters are in Silicon Valley in California. If I pass the test, my dad’s dream will become a reality: we’ll have so much work with that client alone that we’ll be able to open a branch in San Francisco.”
Liam’s face lights up when he talks about it. So this is the kind of challenge that inspires him. I realize how different we are in this respect.
Could it cause problems between the two of us? Can you build a relationship with someone when your idea of fulfillment is so different from theirs?
Liam interrupts my thoughts.
“The stakes are high on this one. The client is a very powerful man. I could ruin our reputation if I screw it up.”
“But that won’t happen,” I say simply, as if it were obvious.
“No, it won’t happen!” he confirms.
I know nothing about Liam’s profession, and I don’t know how but I can tell he excels at his work; that he’s reliable and never fails.
“It’s my father’s dream, Zoe. Not mine. In that respect, we're not so different, really. You honor your father by keeping what he built alive. I want to honor mine by fulfilling his lifelong dream.”
“It seems so easy when you say it,” I say.
“If you’d have met me when I started out, you’d have met a guy who wasn't so sure of himself.”
"Oh really? I can’t imagine you being any less determined or confident.”
“If you only knew what I had to go through to make a place for myself at the firm, to be recognized. The family name can be a burden sometimes.”
“What do you mean?”
“My father is at the head of a well-known firm. When I showed up, I was ‘Paul Desages’s son’ and nothing else. All of the partners thought I had nothing to offer, that I was hired because I was daddy’s little boy. I had to work like crazy to prove I deserved my position.”
“It seems pretty clear you do.”
He holds out his hand to me. I take it and go to sit on his lap, facing him. We kiss, first tenderly, but it quickly becomes passionate.
“I like your way of seeing things,” he says.
“But?” I ask, smiling.
“I promise I’ll keep all my millions to myself. I wouldn’t want to deform our relationship,” he jokes.
***
Liam managed to calm me down, but as soon as he leaves the apartment, the worry comes flooding back. That annoying e-mail is haunting me.
Since I got to Temple Coffee, I can’t think of anything else.
What if it wasn’t a mistake? What if the loan was really refused?
“Can I take a minute, Victor? I need to make an important call,” I explain.
“Right when Miss Hmmm I Don’t Know walks in,” he complains.
He hates serving her. She always takes ages to decide what she wants, tapping her index finger on her lips, her eyebrows knit, carefully (or ‘slowly,’ Victor would say) reading the menu displayed above the counter. It’s like the rest of her day depends on this one decision.
I smile with sympathy and go to the back of the shop. I dial the Business Loan Department's number nervously.
“Business Loan Department, how can I help you?” a woman asks.
“This is Zoe Pasquier. My company is Temple Coffee. I’m calling about an e-mail I received from your office last night.”
“Your reference, please?"
“5-3-3-2-9-7-G-S,” I recite.
“One moment, ma’am. I’m looking up your file.”
A few long seconds pass before she speaks again.
“Yes, that’s correct, you were sent an e-mail yesterday. Concerning a working capital loan. I see the request was denied.”
"Yes, that's right. Denied. There must be a mistake.”
“Sorry ma'am, but I don't think so,” she continues awkwardly. “It’s not a mistake. It's clearly mentioned in your file that our bank can no longer grant you loans.”
“But why?” I ask, surprised. “I’ve always worked with you! I’ve always made my payments on time!”
"I'm sorry, ma’am. I don’t know what else to tell you. I’d suggest you contact your usual account manager to ask about the specific reasons for this refusal.”
“Wh... what? That's it?"
“Did I deal with your enquiry, ma’am?”
“Wh... what? Are you kidding? No, you didn’t deal with anything at all,” I say angrily.
“For any further information, you need to contact your usual account manager, ma’am,” she insists.
“Your department makes the decision to deny my loan request, and you can’t even tell me why?!”
“For any further information, you need to contact your usual account manager,” she repeats in a monotone voice.
"Yeah, I got it. I’m not deaf.” I say, getting annoyed.
“Thank you for your call and have a nice day.”
“Sure,” I say sarcastically before hanging up.
What kind of farce is this?! And how rude to just tell me nothing and send me on my way!
I’m angry, and I dial my account manager's number next. His direct line transfers me to the receptionist.
“Hello, this is Zoe Pasquier. I’d like to speak with Laurent Duboc, please.”
My voice sounds desperate.
“Mister Duboc is in a client meeting right now. Can I leave him a message?” she asks politely.
“I need to see him right away. Doe
s he have any time today?” I say in a trenchant voice.
“One moment, I’ll check his calendar.”
I tap my fingers nervously on the table as I wait.
“He has a slot at eleven thirty or four o'clock this afternoon.”
“I’ll take the four o’clock, then.”
There are fewer customers at that time than right before lunch. It will be easier for Victor to manage.
When I go back to the shop floor to join him, everyone has been served. Some of them are sitting in the large comfy chairs my dad and I got at flea markets and yard sales before fixing them up. I remember those long road trips on Sunday mornings, the rows of antiques and knickknacks as we searched for the perfect furniture for Temple Coffee. My little hand in his, and then the hours he spent carefully restoring things when he was off work. I love those memories, the smell of wood, the old fabrics, the patina, the wood glue. I can see him there, all focused and in love with the work he was doing. His movements exact and sure.
Victor interrupts my train of thought.
“Zoe? Is everything okay?" he asks, worried.
I’ve never hidden anything from him. And I’m not going to start now.
“Honestly, no. The bank turned down our loan application. I thought it was a mistake at first, but apparently they don’t want to work with us anymore. I don’t understand, I just made an appointment with Duboc-adoodle-doo to get more information.”
Victor gives it some thought, probably listing all the consequences of the bank’s decision in his mind.
“That’s strange! Why would they refuse the loan? We’ve always made payments on time. If we don’t get that loan...”
“Yeah, I know. We won’t be able to pay our suppliers. And it might be hard to sell coffee if we don’t have any... coffee,” I say, trying in vain to joke.
My stomach is in knots. I don’t have enough savings to cover the costs.
“I’m scared, Victor.”
“Before you start to worry, go see Duboc-adoodle-doo. But try not to call him that to his face, he might not take it very well,” he laughs.
"Yeah, you're right! Duboc, Duboc, Duboc,” I repeat to myself.
