French Toast (The French Twist Series Book 2)

by Glynis Astie

  Kate picked up on the first ring, leading me to believe she had been waiting for my call.

  “Where have you been?” She had most definitely been waiting.

  “Sorry, Kate. It was a rough day.” I sighed.

  “What happened? Are you OK?” She was in overdrive. Clearly she was freaking out; convinced she would forget something of vital importance for Sam. I kept reminding her that France wasn’t a third world country. They happen to have a plethora of very well stocked stores.

  “I’m fine, Kate. I…I…had to fish and hunt today.”

  I heard her breath catch. “Come again?”

  I should just tell her. She could use a good laugh. I took a deep breath. “Louis’ mother had me get all dressed up so I could fish, gut said fish and then hunt. Only I had to change my clothes after gutting the fish because there were fish parts everywhere and the only thing available was a bright orange pant suit with fuchsia sequins which was about eight inches too short. I looked like a deranged muppet!” Thank you, Michel. “And then I had to hunt Thumper!”

  There was silence at the other end of the line. Had I lost her?

  “Kate? Are you there?”

  She cleared her throat. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

  “Oh, but I am. And I’ve only described the occurrences of ONE day.”

  Kate whistled. “Wow. I thought you were being your usual crazy self, but it sounds like Simone might just have it in for you.”

  “You think?” I was incredulous. Being my crazy self? You can’t make this shit up!

  “Calm down, Syd. I’m sure she’s not really out to get you.” As if! “She only…wants to be sure you’re willing to go the distance for her son.”

  “OK, so it’s like she’s planned a series of challenges for me to work through in order to prove my worthiness to be Louis’ wife?” Is she fucking kidding me? I was already married to him!

  “That’s what it sounds like to me.” She sighed. “Grin and bear it, sweetie. We’ll be there to help tomorrow.”

  I put my hand against my forehead. “I hope I can make it until then.”

  Kate scoffed. “Relax. Both Maya and Dad will be there before we arrive and neither of them will let anyone give you any shit. Relative of Louis’ or not. They will no longer have you at a disadvantage.” Oooh! Listen to my sister curse for real! She’s getting all riled up and forgetting her impeccable manners.

  I laughed. “The Americans are coming to town.”

  She giggled. “You know it, baby!”

  I closed my eyes. “I love you, Kate.”

  “Keep your chin up, Syd. And know how much we love you.”

  “Have a safe flight. Kiss Sam for me, OK?”

  “Will do. See you tomorrow!”

  I hung up the phone with a smile lingering on my face. I was so relieved my family was coming tomorrow. That may sound terrible, because technically Louis’ family was my family now too, but I didn’t feel connected to them yet. I was delighted to meet so many of the people who were important to Louis, but the whole experience was extremely intimidating. We had notable cultural differences, a massive language barrier and an opposing level of comfort with certain outdoor activities. (Louis always joked with me how he came from a family of rednecks, but it turns out there was a degree of truth to his statement.)

  Having spent very little time with Louis only increased the amount of pressure I felt to impress every person I met. I simply needed to get over myself because, honestly, there is no way to impress people when you don’t speak the language. You’re automatically designated as being stupid because you don’t speak the language. Their inability to speak English was irrelevant in this regard.

  But more than anything else, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my mother-in-law’s motives were not entirely genuine. There was a distinct possibility she planned on doing more than just hazing me. Perhaps she was hoping to orchestrate my exit…

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  At last, the day of my family’s arrival has come! It was now Thursday and I had barely managed to survive one week without them. I was thrilled to truly have someone on my side. I know, I know, Louis is on my side, but he’s been far too busy to notice all the madness which has been taking place. As far as he was concerned, his family and friends were simply doing their best to get to know me. He had no idea what had been going on behind the scenes.

  And I’m sorry to say, neither have you. I kept a few, um, minor incidents from you. It’s not a big deal; I just didn’t want you to worry. Let’s face it, I don’t exactly inspire much confidence in being able to handle difficult situations. Then add on not speaking the language, not knowing the local culture or customs, being the target of intense scrutiny and not having my wonderful husband with me as a security measure and you have a recipe for disaster.

  I was prepared for being judged as an American: the Ugly American, the Entitled American, the Unworthy American, etc. I was prepared to miss the majority of the content of discussions. I was prepared to feel lost, uncultured and spastic. I was even prepared for the massive amount of insecurity I would feel upon encountering Louis’ entourage of gorgeous ex-girlfriends. What I was not prepared for was their OPEN HOSTILITY for me.

  During our few days in France, the Durand household was filled to the brim with guests eager to catch up with Louis and to meet his blushing bride. (That description became far too real far too fast.) Included in this sizeable group of visitors were four of Louis’ ex-girlfriends. I was decidedly nervous about meeting them considering their link to Louis’ past as well as their current status as close friends of my mother-in-law’s.

  Each of the four were very flirtatious with Louis and touched him far more than was necessary. I was determined to keep my cool and not give any of them the satisfaction of seeing me behave in a jealous manner. Poor Louis appeared to be very uncomfortable and would often excuse himself to the safety of his father’s company on the terrace.

  This is when the action shifted into high gear. Once Louis had been removed from earshot, the derisive comments would begin. First, the fake smiles the “ex-pack” (as I like to call them) had on their faces vanished. I was then given vengeful glares as they slowly picked apart my appearance. They commented on my hair, my makeup, my dress, my shoes, you name it. (I had a very good grasp on the French vocabulary words for wardrobe items. I would be spending a night in Paris after all. I had some shopping to do!) Each comment was followed by a round of hysterical laughter and a good deal of pointing and in some cases touching. It was really becoming unbearable.

  After three days of verbal assaults, the pack decided to dial up the punishment. During Louis’ Aunt Jacqueline’s garden party, one of them purposely spilled a drink down the front of my dress. (I’ll never refer to them by name, since I refuse to learn them out of spite.) The only good thing which came out of it was we had to leave early since Simone had already used her “emergency” outfit following an unfortunate marmalade incident. Wait a minute…now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure the marmalade was meant for me. I was standing right next to her at the time and I bent over to pick up an earring which had fallen on the floor. Poor Simone was merely collateral damage!

  Later during bridge club, each one of them came up to me and proceeded to give me air kisses. Let me clarify that every person I had met in France had offered three kisses in greeting. Actual kisses which made contact with my cheek. Louis had informed me air kisses were considered to be rude. After this lovely new development I wondered if they were trying to preserve their precious lipstick, trying to send a nasty message to me or simply didn’t want to be tainted in any way by the Ugly American.

  The pack also decided it would be fun to “accidentally” call me by something other than my name. They settled on what sounded like “Simpie.” OK. What were they going for here? Simpering? Simpleton? Because you know for damn sure they wanted me to get the message, so it had to be a reference in the English language. After I fought the urge to
throttle them with my bare hands, I took consolation in this: these horrible women were pissed that the amazing Louis Durand had married an unworthy American. And you know what? They can suck it.

  Apparently my punishment was far from over. During the lunch at his mother’s church the next day, I happened upon the ex-pack having yet another anti-Sydney discussion. Big surprise, since I was their favorite subject. But this time they went too fucking far. They had the nerve to call me FAT. Jesus fucking Christ! I wear a size four! SIZE FOUR! While it’s true I would be considered fat by modeling standards, this is a small town in the south of France. Were they now worshipping heroin chic? What the fuck?

  I really wanted to tell them where they could shove their foie gras….but not only would this have gotten me into heaps of trouble with my mother-in-law, but also I had no idea how to say it. See? It’s a GOOD thing I don’t have a firm grasp of the French language. It took every ounce of control I had not to hurl every French obscenity I knew at them. And the list was rather long thanks to my father-in-law…

  I kept trying to remind myself these women were just jealous that Louis was MY husband and he was fully embracing his new life. Meanwhile, they were still stuck in their small town looking for husbands of their own. When you think about it, they seem pretty damn pathetic, right? Unfortunately for me, this brilliant idea was fairly hard to keep in mind when I was surrounded by the vipers and my knight in shining armor was nowhere in sight.

  No matter how hard I tried to fight it, I could feel all of my old insecurities coming to the surface. I honestly thought they had been put to bed once I married Louis; that I had been able to exorcize all my demons. With the mountain of abuse I had been taking, I found myself sliding back into bad habits. Despite the discomfort I was feeling, I wasn’t going to share the antics of the ex-pack with him. He was happier than I had seen him in a long time and I wasn’t going to ruin it.

  You’ve now been caught up on the treachery I’ve been dealing with, and can easily understand why I was so excited to have my posse with me. If nothing else, it would be easier to ignore all the horrid comments, since I would be able to partake in actual conversations.

  I emerged from the bedroom that morning to find Louis discussing wedding plans with his mother. Perhaps “discussing” isn’t exactly the right word. It would seem Louis was told by his Aunt Seraphine that his mother had planned fourteen courses for the wedding banquet. Since his mom was asleep by the time we returned from dinner with his friends, he had to wait until this morning to go ballistic.

  Let me give you the play-by-play. He tells her she’s just showing off. She screams back he’s her only son and she’s proud of him. He tries to add something and she cuts across him that all these AMERICANS are coming and since his REAL wedding already took place, he should thank her for being so gracious about it and let her do whatever she wants. He then tells her she didn’t behave in anything resembling a gracious manner and she starts to cry. Wow. I understood most of the conversation! My French is getting pretty good!

  While I was excited I had absorbed more of the language than I had originally thought, I was eager to escape the yelling. I walked out of the house in an attempt to find a quiet, drama-free zone. I needed a few moments to collect myself before the onslaught of the ex-pack. Simone was hosting a welcome lunch for out-of-town guests, but my family wouldn’t arrive until later in the afternoon. If I could just make it a few more hours…

  I sat down on the terrace and laid my head on the table. The cool stone felt wonderful on my face. It was probably filthy, but I simply didn’t care.

  “This is a pathetic sight.”

  My head snapped up. Holy crap! Was that ENGLISH?

  I frantically scanned the terrace for the source of the snarky comment. It couldn’t be…she wasn’t due until this evening…

  “Maya!” I jumped up and hurled myself at her before I remembered this would be way too much affection for her after such a long trip.

  “Jesus, Syd. Are you alright?”

  I held her for another minute hoping her sassy attitude would help to steel my nerves.

  She pulled out of the hug and examined me. “What’ve they done to you?”

  I sighed. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here now. How did you get here so early?”

  She completely ignored my question and narrowed her eyes at me. “Are those bitches still picking on you?”

  Yes, I told her about the ex-pack and their exploits. I had to share it with someone! Kate would have been far too worried, my mom would have been horrified and Zoe would have started planning retaliation techniques immediately. And I’m afraid I would have been more than tempted to execute these techniques. Maya was the only one who would be able to give me the pep talk I needed to survive without supplying ideas on how to get revenge. She didn’t trust I could implement any sort of plan properly. But now that she was here, she might choose to implement a few herself. I found myself grinning at the thought. Maya was smart enough not to get caught.

  I inspected my shoes. “They called me fat.”

  For a moment, Maya was speechless, which is an extremely rare occurrence. She then exhaled loudly, closed her eyes for a moment and clenched her hands into fists.

  She opened her eyes, smoothed her skirt and exhaled again, very slowly. “Have you told Louis?”

  I glanced up at her. “No.”

  She didn’t look pleased. “Why not?”

  I pushed the hair out of my face. “He’s incredibly happy here. I didn’t want to ruin it with my insecurities.”

  Maya snorted. “It doesn’t sound like they’re insecurities, Syd. It sounds like these…hicks…are being purposefully heinous to you.”

  She had a point. “OK, fine. You’re right. But he doesn’t need to know about it.”

  “Thank God his taste has improved.” She wrinkled her nose and tried to finger comb my hair into some kind of order. “Though your hair needs some serious help.”

  I touched my long locks self-consciously. “The water here doesn’t agree with my hair. None of the products I brought have been able to tame it.”

  “Don’t worry, Syd, I brought some industrial strength hair products.” Maya thought for a moment. Then she began to grin like the Grinch who stole Christmas. “In fact, maybe the members of the ex-pack might like to sample some…” Uh oh.

  I grabbed both her hands. “Listen, Maya, I’m all for giving these horrible women what they have coming to them, but please, please, please don’t embarrass Louis or his mother in any way.”

  She shook her head. “Syd! You worry too much.”

  Louis came out of the house, grinning from ear to ear. “Maya! How did you get here so early?”

  She batted her eyelashes at him. “I missed you guys so much, I flew in a day early.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “So what have you been up to since yesterday?”

  She winked at both of us. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  Louis gave Maya a big hug while I dissolved into laughter. It felt really good to have someone looking out for me.

  Three hours later, Maya and I were sitting on the terrace waiting for the welcome lunch to begin. She brought me a few new dresses since I had lost a number of garments to both wildlife residue and ex-pack pranks. I had been happily installed in a plum wrap dress with a generous neckline and a moderately short skirt. Maya had even supplied matching strappy sandals and beautiful chandelier earrings. I looked amazing, if I do say so myself.

  As the guests arrived, I introduced them to my fellow American and watched in awe as she charmed the pants off everyone. It seemed no matter what language people speak, they were not immune to her charisma.

  It was easy to see the ex-pack didn’t like the look of her. Maya was in a word, flawless. She chose a simple black strapless dress with a long flowing skirt. She added layers of sparkly necklaces, simple dangly earrings and the most beautiful shoes I had ever seen. They were made of a black shimmery fabric, had open toes, an intrica
te pattern of straps and sported the highest heels in existence.

  I watched as they surveyed her with the usual expressions of disdain. The only problem they faced was while they were able to find numerous faults with me, there were no faults to find with her. Her hair was cut in the latest style from French Vogue, her makeup was impeccable, as usual, and her petite frame and beautiful skin sealed the deal in making her the most beautiful woman at the party. I chuckled to myself when I saw them eyeing her shoes with envy.

  That afternoon was the best of the trip by FAR. Maya started out the event with a bang by monopolizing all the best looking men. The stares the members of the ex-pack gave her were vicious! And every few minutes she would look over at them and smile. It was awesome!

  However, it seemed they weren’t finished with me quite yet. Shortly before dessert was served, I had an extremely close shave with my least favorite member of the pack. The ring leader (let’s call her Big Hair) tried to corner me at the edge of the terrace. She held a dangerously full glass of red wine and a wicked expression on her face. It would seem their favorite target was still one Madame Sydney Durand.

  Just before the moment of impact, Maya literally came out of nowhere and inserted herself between us. She then nudged Big Hair at the perfect angle to both dump the wine down the front of her WHITE dress and knock her into the bushes. It was absolutely brilliant!

  I furtively peeked around to see if anyone had witnessed the fray. It appeared Big Hair had purposely chosen to corner me in this spot since there was very little foot traffic. That definitely turned out to bite her in the ass. There were no witnesses. Serves her right!

  Maya whirled around to face me. “They don’t give up! Are you alright?”