French Toast (The French Twist Series Book 2)

by Glynis Astie

  The four of us turned our attention to where Monique was standing. She knelt down next to an exceptionally pregnant pig. Admittedly, it’s hard to distinguish a pregnant pig from a regular pig given their rather large girth. But over the past week and a half, I’ve had quite an education on the subject of farm animals: how to birth them, feed them, slaughter them and cook them. Just thinking about it makes me shudder. I will never be the same again.

  I shook my head to clear the images. “Does anyone know what’s going on?”

  Nigel pursed his newly brown lips. “I think Monique said Poupette and the pig had some type of friendship and she thought Poupette had come out to the barn to settle in with the mama pig until the babies came.”

  That was both the sweetest and the most bizarre thing I had heard in a long time. If it was what Monique had actually said. I held my head in my hands. What do we do now?

  Zoe abruptly burst into the barn. “Where have you guys been? Simone is on the warpath! She needs her blushing bride so the toasts can begin!”

  Hang on, Simone was AHEAD of schedule? What the hell was going on? Rats!!! We were out of time and we were no closer to finding Poupette. There was nothing more I could do tonight; I would have to start fresh in the morning. As it was, I would need to duck out extremely early to escape Simone and the hours of preparation she thought she was going to subject me to, courtesy of her team of beauticians. I travel with my own team, thank you very much. (Kate and Maya, the unstoppable duo.) Besides, I was truly frightened of what I would end up looking like if I fell into the clutches of this group of woefully out-of-style women. Ducking out early would kill two birds with one stone. Definitely had to do that.

  Charlie very kindly offered me his arm to escort me back to the party. My feet were throbbing from my precipitously high heels. I laughed gleefully when I decided to burn the shoes right along with the dress once this preposterous night was over. Although, it might make more sense to conduct such a ritual in the safety of the United States, far from Simone’s tenacious clutches...

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The remainder of the rehearsal dinner was relatively uneventful. Thought that’s not to say it was free of humiliation. Maya drank herself into a stupor and then screamed at Devon in a jealous rage. I, of course, have it all on video. (The torn dress gives it a certain tragic quality…) Judge all you want, but I needed some kind of bargaining chip for the barrage of photos she took of me in my, uh, rather unique ensemble. They could end up on Facebook, Twitter, Google, maybe even a billboard! I had to do something.

  Besides, I didn’t escape the evening unscathed. I was fortunate enough to be the subject of not only my father’s toast, but also a good portion of Michel’s toast. Because Louis translated his father’s toast into English and my father’s into French, I had the great pleasure of being embarrassed in two languages. As though wearing the dress of a maniacal strumpet weren’t enough.

  On a much happier note, once the rehearsal dinner had concluded, Louis and I found the opportunity for some alone time. I’m afraid our zeal didn’t allow for much sleep, but the amazing sex did wonders for restoring my spirit. Since I had decided to get up at the crack of dawn to continue my search for Michel’s canine companion, I knew I was going to be an absolute zombie for our wedding day.

  After all the work I had done to get into Simone’s good graces, I was fairly close to sending it all down the toilet. Skipping out on her beauty regimen was a given because a) I had already said no thank you three times and she refused to listen and b) I wasn’t going to allow photographic evidence of myself with blue eye shadow and a bouffant for all eternity. But operating on so little sleep pretty much guaranteed I would mess up Simone’s chosen poem SEVERELY. Even at the top of my game, the end result would have been iffy at best. I did feel a little bad about purposely contributing to her embarrassment, but now is not the time for dwelling. It’s time to get back to the search.

  Zoe had graciously offered to help me comb the countryside for Poupette at an ungodly hour of the morning. Since everyone in my family knows I have virtually no sense of direction, my guess was Zoe lost last night’s round of roshambo. No one in the Bennett family wanted to see Simone freak out due to her missing daughter-in-law (who would probably have ended up in a ditch somewhere on her own), so they opted to send an escort. Louis was the obvious choice, but we needed him to run interference with his mother once she noticed I wasn’t available for her petrifying team of beauticians.

  Zoe met me in front of the house at five in the morning. I was so exhausted, my eyes were in constant pain. I wasn’t exactly sure how I was going to find Poupette if I couldn’t see, but luckily for me, Zoe had the eyes of a hawk. After three hours of skirting the Durand property, we had to admit defeat. The wedding was starting in three hours and I had to give Kate and Maya some time to work with; quality hair and makeup takes time, my friend. Not to mention, I needed a good twenty minutes in the shower to clean off all the grime from the morning. (I may have fallen into a mud puddle, or two, due to the stellar combination of my tired eyes and natural klutziness.)

  As Zoe and I walked up the driveway, we came upon Michel walking in circles in front of the house, absently blowing his nose into his handkerchief. He seemed so bereft, it nearly broke my heart. Was all hope really lost? Where in the world could this dog be? Was she being held for ransom? At this point, I was willing to entertain almost any theory since she was nowhere to be found.

  I was so distracted by Michel’s appearance, I almost didn’t see Kate running at me like a lunatic.

  “Syd!” She hissed. “Simone is looking everywhere for you. Get in the car!”

  I hesitated. “But…”

  She grabbed me and shoved me towards her rental car. “All your stuff is in the trunk. Get in and hide in the back seat. Now!”

  I quickly did as she asked. Zoe threw one of Sam’s blankets over me for good measure. I held my breath and waited for Kate to get in the car. Then I noticed something moving on the seat next to me. What the fuck? Did some kind of animal sneak into the car? As the panic rose in my throat, I heard a small moan.

  Wait a minute. I know that voice. “Maya?” My voice was barely above a whisper.

  She coughed. “Is that you, Syd?”

  Duh. “Yes, it’s me. What are you doing hiding in the back of Kate’s car?”

  “I could ask you the same question!” She snapped.

  Jesus Christ, Maya! Now is not the time for this. “Shhh! Keep your voice down!”

  “You started it!”

  I could easily picture the gigantic pout on her face right now. I had a sneaking suspicion things had not gone well with Devon last night. She was going to be in a right foul mood this morning. Given my severe lack of sleep and desolation over not finding Poupette, it would be a miracle if I didn’t kill her.

  A couple of minutes later, Kate got into the car. She spoke so quietly as she turned to put on her seatbelt, I had to strain to hear her. “Shut the hell up, you two!” I peeked around my blanket to see her smiling and waving. Simone must be waiting to resume her search for me until Kate left. I had the good sense to keep quiet until I was told the coast was clear. I had been through far too much to get caught now.

  Five minutes later, we arrived at the hotel. Kate wrenched open the door and yanked off my blanket disguise. I gratefully removed myself from the pretzel shape I had twisted into and got out of the car. I turned to help Maya and nearly jumped out of my skin.

  You remember my grand aspiration, absurd as it may be, to be perfect? Well, Maya IS perfect. Or, more precisely, she always LOOKS perfect. But the woman who got out of the car after I did was about as far from perfect as you could get. Her hair was a rat’s nest, her makeup was smeared literally all over her face, her dress was horribly wrinkled (not to mention the huge gaping hole from last night), her stockings were torn and her shoes…well, they were completely caked in mud.

  I turned to Kate. “Where did you find her?”


  Kate exhaled loudly. “Uh…passed out on the hood of my car.” She paused. “This morning.”

  My eyes must have bugged out of my head. “What? How? When? But…I…”

  Maya put her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Syd, I’m fine.”

  I stared at her in complete confusion. “You don’t look fine. Not anywhere near an approximation of fine.” I rubbed my head, which had started to throb. “What happened to you?”

  She sighed. “I got pissed at Devon for ignoring me, yelled at him in front of everyone and then tramped off into the woods by myself.”

  The corners of my mouth twitched. “I remember the yelling. But, how did you end up passed out on the hood of Kate’s car?”

  She cocked her head to one side. “No idea.”

  Kate shook her head ruefully. “It might have something to do with the THREE empty bottles of wine I found next to the car.”

  I shook my head. “But you walked all the way from Louis’ parent’s house?” Granted it was only two miles, but, Maya had been quite drunk and she was wearing FIVE inch heels. In that state of mind, who knows what could’ve happened to her? She’s lucky she didn’t break an ankle walking over uneven terrain, completely wasted, in those damn shoes - exquisitely beautiful as they may be.

  Maya was exasperated. “Syd, I have no idea. And it doesn’t matter anyway…”

  I hugged her gently. “Thank God you’re in one piece. Are you alright?”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know.”

  Kate cleared her throat. “I hate to interrupt you guys, but the wedding is in two and half hours. We have to get started right away.”

  I nodded and took Maya’s hand. “It’s all going to be OK. I promise.”

  She shrugged her shoulders and followed me into the hotel.

  Once we crossed the threshold, Kate became a drill sergeant. She promptly sent Maya back to her room to shower and told her to come back to our room in no more than forty minutes. She threatened to send my mother, who was miraculously waiting in Kate’s room, after her if she were even a minute late.

  My mom observed Kate with horror after Maya left. “Was that really necessary? The poor girl is struggling. Besides, I’m sure Devon can help to put her right.”

  I turned to Kate quickly. “Did you call Devon when you found her?”

  Kate shook her head. “Didn’t need to. He was the one who called me.”

  My sleep-addled brain simply couldn’t process her statement. “I don’t get it.”

  She laughed. “Syd, he followed her from the party. He knew she was too angry and too drunk to deal with him rationally, but he wanted to make sure she was safe. Once she made it to the hotel, at SIX in the morning, he called me to come and get her.”

  My mom whistled. “Wow. He really knows how to handle her.”

  Kate winked at us. “No doubt. He’s definitely a keeper.”

  Two hours later, I was a beautiful bride. I had managed to scrub all the grime off my body and was only left with a few small scratches, courtesy of some rather unfriendly thorn bushes. Kate had worked her magic and wrestled my hair into her signature French twist. I closed my eyes and thought of the last time she had done this for me. The night I had proposed to my dear, sweet Louis. I marveled at how much had happened since that day just over a year ago.

  There were moments of pure joy and moments of overwhelming sadness. There were moments when I thought I wanted to kill him and moments when I thought he wanted to kill me. Our first year together wasn’t easy by any stretch of the imagination and I had questioned my impulsive decision to marry him repeatedly.

  But somehow, we had managed to work through all the bullshit and come through the experience stronger than we were before. We had years of fighting ahead of us, but I wasn’t worried. I knew we would always make up afterwards. We were definitively not a marriage which would end in divorce. Thank you very much for your odds, Mr. Mark Darcy.

  “Hello! Earth to Syd!” Kate was waving her hand in front of my face.

  I blushed. “I’m sorry. I was thinking about the last time you…”

  She interrupted me, smiling broadly. “Put your hair in a French twist. I know. But you have to get it together, bride. It’s time to go.”

  All the sudden, I felt sick to my stomach. Was I really going to do this? How did the poem start again? Why did I agree to this? I’m completely insane! Whoa, Sydney. Just breathe. Everything will be fine.

  Kate took my hand. “Syd, relax.”

  I nodded. “Right, relax…” Like that was so easy! No one else was going to be up there in front of five freakin’ hundred people making a complete ASS out of herself!!!

  Kate pulled me to my feet and turned me toward the full length mirror in her room. “Look at her.”

  Are we playing this game again? Who am I looking at? We’re the only two people in this room!

  She shook her head at me when I stared back at her in confusion. “Look at YOURSELF in the mirror, Syd.”

  I followed her instructions obediently. I saw a woman in a beautiful ivory satin gown, with delicate straps, a low sweeping neckline and a long flowing skirt. Her hair was perfect, as was her shimmery, understated makeup. She had glossy crimson lips and wore delicate diamond earrings. She was breathtaking.

  I smiled. “OK, Kate, I see what you’re getting at. At least I’ll look amazing when I embarrass the hell out of myself.”

  She giggled. “You’re going to be fine. Now let’s get going before Simone sends a hunting party after us…”

  My mother burst into the room carrying a ball of tulle - also known as my niece, Sam. She looked adorable in her puffy, pink dress and the sight of her perfect little face set my soul at ease.

  My mom seemed completely harried, but once her eyes settled on her two girls, she broke out into an elated smile. Kate was gorgeous in her crimson strapless satin dress. The dress hugged her in all the right places and the skirt was fairly short. This was another of Simone’s choices, but for once, I heartily agreed. My sister looked hot! I couldn’t wait to see Zoe and Maya in their matching dresses.

  “Girls! You both look beautiful, but we have to go!” My mom grabbed Sam’s diaper bag and motioned us out the door.

  As we ran out to the parking lot (I had wisely decided not to put my heels on until we arrived back at the house), we passed Maya and Devon in the hall. Maya seemed exhausted, but much more like herself. She was drop dead gorgeous and smiling! I was grateful to Devon for putting her back in a good mood for today’s astronomically important event. I smiled at both of them as I headed toward the final countdown…

  The wedding ceremony Simone had planned was beautiful. While I mentally prepared myself for the walk down the aisle, I said a silent prayer the ceremony would be everything she wanted it to be. I was about to take my father’s arm, when I discovered something was missing. Where was my bouquet? I frantically searched the immediate area, but there were no flowers to be found. I can’t walk down the aisle like this! Flowers are one of Simone’s favorite things in the entire world!

  As I began to shake, Simone surprised me in a most unexpected way. She approached quietly and handed me a bouquet of red roses mixed with purple irises. I caught my breath and looked up at her in shock. Simone had wanted orange gladiola and birds of paradise. I had readily conceded to her on this as I had on most issues, but she seemed to be sending me a message by giving me my favorite flowers at the last minute. I was speechless. Did this mean she accepted me? Did I actually pass the test? Was I finally deemed to be good enough for her son? I searched her face for these answers, but she just smiled, squeezed my hand and hurriedly returned to her place in the procession. I stared after her in amazement.

  Once my dad poked me in the ribs a couple times, I came back to reality and stumbled down the aisle with him to the beautiful outdoor dais Michel had built. He had created handsome designs in the wood, which Simone had accented with yards of tulle and purple irises. As we were married for the second t
ime, Louis and I stood under a wooden archway, also of Michel’s creation, and were pronounced man and wife by Uncle Remi. (Monique had worked her magic with an online ordination!)

  I’m delighted to say I made it through Simone’s poem without stuttering OR swearing. As to the exact wording, pronunciation and accent, I couldn’t tell you how well I did, but honestly neither could anyone else in the vicinity. As I carefully made my way through the poem, Simone began to cry. The further I progressed in the poem, the louder she wailed and with such emotion, I worried for her state of mind. I’m still not certain if she displayed this level of emotion to cover the sound of my horrible accent and/or mispronunciation or if she were really that moved by my performance.

  The silver lining of the whole ordeal is should anyone post a video of the ceremony on YouTube, you would simply see my mouth moving (and I did look pretty damn good) and would hear nothing but Simone wailing in the background. From my point of view, this wasn’t the worst thing in the world. For once, I wasn’t the one who was the center of embarrassment. Imagine that?

  Even better than this silver lining was Louis’ radiant happiness following the ceremony. He looked so dapper in his beautifully cut gray suit (with a pink tie at the absolute insistence of his mother), I felt like a giddy young bride as he helped me into the wagon. It turned out to be rather fun riding around the town in the back of this old-fashioned vehicle. Someone had placed soft blankets over the hay bales and Louis kept a firm hold on me the entire time, so I wouldn’t go bouncing out the back. And the smile on his face as he waved to his friends and family members (and gestured to his hot wife) was priceless. I haven’t felt this happy in a very, very long time.

  Oh, and I haven’t even mentioned the best part! I found Poupette! Once we finished our tour of the town and the wagon turned onto the Durand property, I saw a flash of black disappear behind a cluster of rocks. Despite Louis’ protests, I insisted on getting out to investigate. I took off my four inch cream satin heels (Simone insists four inches to be the minimum heel height for a respectable French woman), hiked up my skirt and took off after the tuft of black fur in the distance. Louis, in turn, took off after me.