French Toast (The French Twist Series Book 2)

by Glynis Astie

  But let us get back to the religious issue. It’s not like Louis worships the devil and participates in crazy satanic rituals. The explanation is much more banal than that. What it boils down to is, Louis is an engineer and operates solely by logic and reason. During his education in Catholicism as a boy, he was full of questions regarding elements of the Bible. When the town priest was unable to answer his questions in a factual manner, Louis became concerned about religion in general.

  After he refused to stay quiet following the priest’s lectures regarding the superiority of faith over scientific reasoning, he was summarily kicked out of Catholic school. Louis was extremely relieved, but his mother was humiliated and the topic of religion has remained contentious between them ever since. By inviting the priest, the very same priest from his childhood, Louis felt his mother had purposely humiliated him.

  I must admit I was pretty pissed at her given the ENORMOUS concession I had made to her by suggesting we move up the French wedding. Louis and I were both at the end of our ropes and her latest stunt threatened our very existence. Louis jumped every time the phone rang, hoping for news about a job and I was dealing with one last wedding issue. Yes, I mean for the third and final wedding, MY REAL WEDDING, the one which used to be the second wedding. The one I wish were still the second wedding!!! Wow. Please excuse my outburst. The stress is starting to eat away at my soul. Where were we? Oh yes, I was about to say Louis and I were leaving for France in two and a half weeks and I was still having difficulty finding gifts for the bridal party. None of the options I had come up with so far had been agreeable to both Maya and Kate. If I didn’t figure out a solution soon, I was going to lose my mind.

  After Louis slammed the phone down on his mother, we stared at each other in silence for a moment. I had to think fast. Our circumstances were becoming desperate. I glanced at the clock and did a quick calculation. It was six-thirty, so we should be able to make it. I grabbed the phone and dialed Kate. Ten minutes later, Louis and I were in the car on the way to Kate and Nick’s house. I had found the key to our salvation. Samantha Erin Wilson was about to save the day.

  Over the last week, Louis had spent a number of days with Kate and Sam. He still felt terrible about the demise of Piggy the first and wanted to do something to make up for this egregious offense. He took Sam out for walks, read her books and began giving her French lessons. Kate was delighted for the company, not to mention the opportunity to nap, and begrudgingly forgave him for the aforementioned slaughter.

  I knew a visit with our favorite niece was exactly what we needed to pull our heads out of our asses. She was a living reminder of the possibilities we had ahead of us. The joy, the wonder and yes, the chaos, but I was choosing to focus on the positive at this point in time. I needed to be able to function through the next four weeks with more than a small amount of intelligence and grace. The only way I could think of to accomplish this in my current state was to infuse myself with a little of Sam’s magic.

  I peeked at Louis. “You’re humming, aren’t you?”

  He grinned. “I am! I need to warm up for my performance.”

  I laughed. “I thought I recognized the melody as Old MacDonald Had a Farm.”

  He winked at me. “Be prepared to provide the animal noises.”

  “Quack! Quack!” I dissolved into a fit of giggles.

  Louis laughed until tears spilled down his face. “I am only trying to get you in on the act.”

  Once I had regained the power of speech, I turned to Louis. “You’ve been teaching Sam the names of the animals in French, right?”

  “Mais oui.” He smiled. “This is very important in light of her upcoming trip to an authentic French farm.” The change in his mood was staggering. And we hadn’t even set eyes on our little miracle yet!

  I decided it would be a good idea if I had a basic farm vocabulary as well.

  I cleared my throat. “OK, I think it’s time you educate your wife as well.” I had been asking Louis to work with me on my French for months now, but with everything going on, this request had fallen to the bottom of the priority list.

  His eyes lit up. “What would you like to know?”

  I snorted. “Well, right now the only words I know besides bonjour, s’il vous plait and merci are profane, so anything would be helpful. But, why don’t we start with farm animals? I have a feeling this knowledge will come in handy during the visit.”

  He chuckled. “This is true. Let’s start with duck.” His face became serious. “Le canard.”

  I did my best approximation. “Le canard.”

  He had me say it a few more times until he was satisfied with the result. One of the hardest things about learning French is the pronunciation. Even if you master the verb tenses and vocabulary, if you don’t pronounce the words just so, those meticulous Frenchies might not understand you. No wonder they had the reputation for being so smug…

  For the remainder of the ride, we covered the full gamut of farm animals. Louis taught me the last one as we pulled into the driveway. Little did I know this word would end up being the bane of my existence.

  “OK, Syd, we will end our lesson with the word for chicken.” He paused. “La poule.”

  I concentrated. “La poule.”

  He shook his head. “La poule.”

  I tried again. “La poule.”

  He mulled it over. “That will do, but you need to be careful. If you put too much of the ‘ooh’ sound in it, you will end up saying the French word for sweater – le pull.”

  I frowned. “Le pull?” They sounded exactly the same to me.

  He smirked at me. “You just said chicken again.”

  I exhaled. “OK. Le pull.”

  “OK, Miss Chicken.”

  Aaaaaah! This pronunciation is going to kill me! God knows what I’m going to end up saying to his relatives. Maybe it would be best for me to keep my mouth shut.

  As we walked up the path to the front door, I kept trying to say the difference between la poule and le pull, but I simply couldn’t get it. Louis was attempting to be supportive (by not laughing his ass off), but he was on the edge of losing it. I did my best not to get annoyed with him, especially once I remembered a fit of laughter I had in the middle of Hagen Daas when he ordered two “balls” of chocolate ice cream. In all fairness, he had been in the country for two months at the time, but the moment was priceless.

  Kate opened the door just as I was giving it one last attempt. She burst out laughing. “Syd, what the hell are you trying to say?”

  Her reaction was all it took for Louis. His laughter echoed throughout the entranceway to their home. Sam’s little eyes searched for the source of the joy from the comfort of her bouncy seat in the living room.

  As I was about to explain my pronunciation exercises to Kate, Louis found the power of speech. He put his arm around Kate and grinned down at her.

  “I am trying to teach your sister how to pronounce the difference between la poule and le pull.”

  Kate grinned. “A pretty important distinction.”

  “I know!” He was barely holding it together.

  Kate turned to me. “You’d better be careful when you get to France and you try to buy a sweater, Syd. You will most likely end up with a live chicken!”

  Kate and Louis become completely hysterical, causing such a ruckus Nick came to investigate.

  “What’s going on out here?”

  Since neither one of them had regained the ability to speak, I rolled my eyes and offered Nick an explanation.

  “They’re mocking my poor pronunciation of the French language.”

  Nick cracked a smile. “It can’t be that bad, Syd.”

  I sighed. “I think those two beg to differ, my friend. Why don’t you ask them to tell you the story? It’ll make your night.”

  Smirking briefly, I walked past them and sat next to my little angel. She wouldn’t willingly participate in the boisterous mocking of her aunt.

  Ten minutes later, the th
ree traitors decided to join us in the living room. Kate was still wiping tears of laughter from her face and Nick and Louis both had red faces from the exertion of mirth.

  Instead of hating them for ridiculing me, I chose to be happy Kate and Nick had kept Louis laughing for such a long period of time. At least that was the case until my sister wouldn’t let the subject die.

  “Syd, are you telling me you really can’t hear the difference between la poule and le pull?”

  Sydney, keep your temper in check. Louis is feeling so much better. Do not take away his good mood by getting angry.

  I took a deep breath. “I can hear the difference, Kate. Apparently, I’m not able to say the difference.”

  She scoffed. “I’m sure you can. Let’s give it another shot.”

  She then proceeded to show me how to purse my lips in order to produce the proper “oooh” sound necessary to convey I was speaking of a sweater and not a chicken.

  As I thought about the best way to punch her in the nose without scaring Sam, Nick came to my rescue. I think he could see I was staring daggers at my sister and didn’t like to think about what I was capable of under this level of stress.

  He put his arm around his wife protectively. “Kate! Why don’t you tell Syd what you found?”

  She studied him quizzically. “Oh! That’s right!” She turned to me. “Syd, I found the BEST earrings for the girls.” She bounced up excitedly and pulled me by the hand toward the study. I heard Nick breathe a sigh of relief and smirked at him before I left the room.

  Kate brought up a website quickly. “Look at these! Aren’t they gorgeous?”

  I leaned over her and saw the most beautiful pair of Givenchy chandelier earrings. They were simple, elegant and had just enough sparkle to impress, yet not overwhelm. They were in a word, perfect.

  I gasped. “Kate! These are awesome! Thank you so much!”

  She jumped up and we started bouncing and squealing at the same time. Then we heard Nick yelling at us from down the hall.

  “You are disturbing the sanctity of bath time, ladies! Lower the volume!”

  D’oh! Kate and I both knew if bath time didn’t go well, then bed time wouldn’t go well. None of us wanted such an outcome.

  Kate lowered her voice to a whisper. “I knew you’d like them, so I took the liberty of ordering six pairs.”

  Yes, I’ve already told you that I have chosen six bridesmaids. I know it might seem a little tacky, but each one of them is important to me. I actually wanted to have two or three more, because I wanted to include all of my closest friends, but my wedding party would have been truly pretentious. And an ounce of pretention is worth a pound of manure! (I really love Steel Magnolias.)

  I sighed with happiness. “Kate, you didn’t have to! But I’m so glad you did! Tell me how much I owe you and I’ll write you a check.” I started walking towards the living room to get my purse.

  She grabbed my hand. “Don’t be silly! Consider them a gift.”

  I stared at her with wide eyes. “Kate, I appreciate your generosity, but those earrings were not cheap.”

  She tapped my nose. “Only the best for my sister.”

  I threw my arms around her. “Thank you! That’s a very generous wedding gift!”

  She laughed. “The earrings are not your wedding gift! They’re ‘a life has been very hard for you and I love you to pieces and want you to feel better’ gift.”

  Damn it, Kate. I had tears in my eyes. I hugged her even tighter and felt myself relax for the first time in a few days. My perfect sister had checked the last item off my list for me. And she had done it in a most Katelike fashion; with generosity, elegance and kindness. I had no choice but to forgive her for the degree of heckling she delivered to me over what would come to be known as the great chicken sweater fiasco, but it was close. EXTREMELY close. (I spared you from the worst of her comments, because I, too, am a lady.)

  While Kate and I shared our sisterly moment, Louis had been in heaven during bath and story time with Sam. He generously allowed me to join him for a duet during song time. Luckily for me, Sam really loved our rendition of The Wheels on the Bus and I was asked to join for an encore performance.

  After Sam went to bed, we thanked Nick and Kate profusely for bringing us out of our doldrums. We had been infused with enough of Sam’s magic to keep us going through the next few days. They promised us we were more than welcome to come by as often as we needed to before our departure to France. We all had a feeling the intensity was only going to get worse the closer we got to the wedding and a hit of Sam’s baby dust would vastly increase our chances of survival.

  As we drove home, I held Louis’ hand and smiled. He smiled back at me and we breathed a collective sigh of relief. While I was a little jealous that Sam was able to relieve her Uncle Bluey’s tension when I couldn’t, I was ultimately grateful someone had the capacity to make him feel better. I was even more grateful this particular someone had the capacity to make us BOTH feel better. In the end, it took the entire Wilson family to pull us out of our funk. Having perfect people as a part of your family certainly has its benefits.

  Chapter Fourteen

  With only two weeks to go before our departure to France, Louis brought up a topic which was, well, rather strange. He expressed concern regarding the delicate fabric of my wedding dress. There’s no need to be shocked. Of course I showed it to him! It’s the third wedding, wait, I mean the second wedding. Damn it! I can’t even keep it straight anymore. I don’t think we need to be concerned about bad luck at this point. Besides, I had to show him the dress because I needed to make sure I wouldn’t be committing any sort of French wedding faux pas. Who knew if there were any type of wedding dress offenses we commit in America on a daily basis? This was the one choice I had been able to make for our French wedding. It had to be just right.

  Intrigued by Louis’ concern, I asked why this, of all things, would trouble him. He then said he didn’t want my dress to rip when we sat on the hay bales in the back of the horse drawn carriage. This information stopped me in my tracks. Apparently, we would tour the town following the ceremony, accepting congratulations from the townsfolk and all visiting relatives. From the back of a carriage. Whilst sitting on hay bales. Totally didn’t see that coming.

  As I was attempting to control the anxiety threatening to overwhelm my system, Louis requested I obtain a longer veil to keep the bugs off my face during said ride in the carriage. Let me point out, this conversation took place after I had been told I would be learning how to make Louis’ favorite cheese (without the use of a gas mask). I had no choice but to put all of it out of my mind or I would have had a complete mental breakdown. And possibly have killed my husband, which might have put a damper on our second and third weddings.

  In the midst of the chaos of the final French wedding preparations, Louis was waiting for an extremely important phone call. He had been through SEVEN rounds of interviews with a financial software company in San Francisco, and had been told by his recruiter he should be hearing directly from the company any day now. So, this would of course be the time when his mother would start to call once an hour with a matter of dire importance. (What time is your flight arriving? What are you planning to wear to the rehearsal dinner? Do you want me to invite any more of your old girlfriends to the wedding? Wait, what time did you say your flight was arriving?) If he hadn’t been waiting for a job offer, he would have changed all his phone numbers and dropped out of his mother’s world for a long, long time.

  I came home from work one day to find Louis sitting at the dining room table staring at the phone. In fact, he was staring at both his cell phone and our home phone. He was looking back and forth between them with an exasperated expression on his face. It was almost comical. I didn’t dare laugh though; his mood had been exceptionally unpredictable over the last twenty-four hours. I wondered how long this company would take to put him out of his misery. Were they going to hire him or not?

  I put down my pu
rse and approached him carefully. “Hi, Bluey.”

  He glanced up at me, apparently just noticing I had entered the apartment. His level of concentration was insane. He was able to shut out all background noise and focus solely on the content of his thoughts. It must be the intense military training. Or possibly growing up with an extremely loquacious mother.

  He had yet to say anything, so I was becoming concerned. I tried again.

  “How was your day, my love?”

  His hand twitched as he picked up his cell phone. “I have been waiting for hours for these assholes to call.”

  I chanced a smile. “If they’re assholes, maybe you don’t want to work for them.”

  He smiled sheepishly. “Why do they make you wait so long? It is inhuman.”

  I sighed. I had found myself on the other side of this equation often with my job. On many occasions, I had obtained all necessary approvals, completed all background checks, had all the I’s dotted and T’s crossed, but was still forced to hold an offer for an incredible candidate for some idiotic reason. Corporate bureaucracy can be a real bitch.

  I walked over and put my arms around his neck. “Don’t worry, Bluey. It won’t be much longer.” I decided now was not the time to ask him how the other jobs were faring in his search, because it was never a good idea to put all your eggs in one basket. I think he would have been quite tempted to sock me in the nose if I had said those words to him. And I wouldn’t have blamed him one bit. He had been through so much in the last seven months; he was entitled to his own mental breakdown.

  It was unlikely he would receive a call with a job offer this late in the day, but I didn’t say a word for the next hour as he sat and stared at the phones. I changed my clothes, checked my email, had a snack and began to prepare dinner. As I put the pasta to boil, the phone rang, causing Louis to jump about six feet in the air. Apparently if you stare at a phone long enough, it will ring. Though this practice never worked for me in my long days of dating.