French Toast (The French Twist Series Book 2)

by Glynis Astie

  The ride was so…exhilarating! I absolutely loved it. That’s not to say I wasn’t deathly afraid at first, but I pushed back the fear. (I held onto Louis with an iron grip; he’s lucky his jacket has padding too.) I was DONE with feeling afraid and stressed…and tired! I was fed up with thinking about all the minutia that isn’t important. Out here, on this bike, all you have to think about is the moment. You’re only existing in this particular point in time. And it feels amazing!

  When I shared my feelings with Louis, he was as giddy as I’ve ever seen him. I wasn’t sure if he were happier about discovering I shared his love of motorcycles – at least to some degree - or discovering he had been able to bring me out of the latest bout of the crazies. Either way, we had found a moment of precious joy.

  The next morning, we received a call from our immigration officer. I, of course, was convinced they had the building surrounded and was quickly scanning the apartment for exit options. Louis squeezed my hand and reminded me we would deal with whatever happened together. A moment later, we were informed Louis was cleared for a green card. Our officer, Bob, told us he could tell we were the real deal from the moment we walked in the room. He then commented dryly that no one other than a couple in love would go through the trouble of three weddings in three different locations to satisfy all their family members. When you put it that way, Bob, it does sound completely insane.

  I allowed myself to breathe for about five seconds before I entered panic mode once more. We were now three days away from our third and final wedding, which meant only one thing. The Frenchies were coming to town…

  Chapter Thirty

  Taking our trip to France to meet Louis’ family was one of the most unique and educational experiences of my life. Having the French contingency come to America was a whole other animal. Simone and Michel were the first to arrive, two short days before the wedding. Thankfully, all the details were in place for our final foray into wedded bliss. (My game of whack-a-mole was over and I honestly wasn’t sure who won.) Louis and I would be able to spend a little time showing his family the wonders of San Francisco, since we had both taken off work until the following Tuesday, when the Frenchies would return home. Unfortunately, we no longer had a honeymoon in our immediate future because Louis couldn’t take any more time off from work.

  You will be thrilled to know Louis’ parents were staying in our apartment, at Simone’s insistence. My gallant husband tried repeatedly to convince her they should stay in a hotel for their OWN comfort, but she wouldn’t be swayed. I was convinced she wanted to get in one last episode of hazing, but the actual reasoning turned out to be far more basic. Simone is simply nosy.

  I’m sure you remember the lack of boundaries she showed in her own home during our recent visit. I quickly discovered she applies the same standards to other people’s homes. Upon her arrival, she searched through every one of our kitchen cabinets. I had stupidly thought since we had a major bonding moment during our trip to France, she would somehow leave me alone. Alas, her curiosity (and fierce determination that she knows best) wouldn’t be contained.

  Therefore, I bit my tongue while she rearranged my dishes, making clucking noises and glancing my way every few minutes. When she started towards our bedroom, I turned to Louis with a murderous look on my face. This was where I drew the line. She wouldn’t touch a thing in my closet. I could easily see her sorting through my underwear and deeming it unworthy. There HAD to be a limit to her invasiveness.

  Louis quickly redirected his mother to the living room couch and put on one of her favorite French movies. He had very cleverly stocked up on DVDs his parents would enjoy in order to give us some breathing room. He had also signed us up for a couple of French TV channels in case the movies didn’t do the trick. (The man is a genius!)

  We planned to take them to a number of tourist attractions in San Francisco, but we were going to have to spend some time in the apartment and his mother wasn’t able to sit still very easily. It suddenly dawned on me that maybe I wasn’t going to be able to relax during these last two days before the wedding. Maybe I was actually going to have the nervous breakdown I keep talking about. Or maybe I was just going to kill my mother in law…

  Michel, on the other hand, was a very pleasant houseguest. All he required was a bottomless platter of chocolate chip cookies, a TV with French programming and a comfortable bed for naps. Louis and I had prepared all these items for him and he was content to sit with us and talk, smiling as he ate his cookies. His rich voice and infectious laugh set me at ease. I sat back in wonder at the stark contrast between Louis’ parents. Though I guess it’s merely the pleasure of a mother-in-law to drive her daughter-in-law completely berserk. Unfortunately for me, she only had one daughter-in-law to torture. And I couldn’t even find security knowing we lived so far from her reach. Not even an ocean AND a continent could keep Simone from her task.

  That afternoon, we took Louis’ parents to Pier 39, Alcatraz and Ghirardelli Square. Since we were doing a lot of walking, I wore casual clothes and my favorite converse. Simone wore a suit and four inch heels. Before we left, I pulled Louis aside and asked him if his mom had more comfortable shoes to wear since I envisioned her with major blisters at the end of our activities. He simply shook his head and told me she would only wear heels outside the house. (“She is French, after all,” he mused.) I sighed, realizing this would be another area where I would fall short. There was no way in hell I was going to traipse all over the city in heels. Americans may appear to be loud, fat and stupid to most Europeans, but we’re also comfortable.

  The next day, Uncles Remi and Luc, Aunts Seraphine and Jacqueline and cousins, Monique and Sophie arrived. Thankfully, this gave me some breathing room since Simone had much to gossip about with her sisters. (No doubt she led with the poor quality of my kitchen organization. Thank God she had no stories to tell about my unmentionables.) A little more breathing room was coming my way very soon due to our imminent departure for Monterey. Tonight was our rehearsal dinner (Third and final, baby!) and tomorrow was the big day. In a few hours, we would all be resting comfortably in our OWN hotel rooms. Which had locks on the doors. And lovely little chains too.

  Louis and I had rented a minivan to transport our posse of Frenchies down to Monterey, so after a quick lunch we loaded everyone in and started our road trip. The amount of luggage was mind boggling, but thankfully my parents had arrived last night and had also rented a minivan to handle our overflow baggage. I had given my parents the astronomical responsibility of transporting my wedding gown to the hotel. It scared the crap out of me to be separated from it, but there was simply no way to fit it in our van without it getting crushed. I made my father promise he would do everything in his power to protect it. He was about to make some sort of sarcastic comment when the look of gravity on my face silenced him. Even my father could see I would not be trifled with so close to the final wedding.

  A few hours later we were all happily installed in our hotel rooms. Louis and I were given the bridal suite on the top floor of the hotel. The view was breathtaking and the suite was more luxurious than any I had seen before. And to make things even better, all our family members had been given rooms two floors below us. Ahhh. Sweet relief.

  After Louis and I had a relaxing bubble bath together, we got dressed and took the elevator down to the second floor to check on our families. The rehearsal dinner was due to start in one hour and we wanted to make sure everyone was going to be on time. Louis headed down one corridor to check on his family and I headed down another to check on mine. It was then that the comedy began.

  First I knocked on my parents’ door. My mom answered the door in a fluffy white bathrobe.

  I giggled. “Nice outfit, Mom! Is that what you’re wearing tonight?”

  She pulled me into the room. “Syd! Look at you! You look beautiful!”

  I did look pretty nice, if I did say so myself. I had chosen a strapless pale pink dress, with a fitted bodice and flowing mid lengt
h skirt complete with a lace overlay. I wore my hair in loose waves, applied simple shimmery makeup and capped off the ensemble with silver strappy sandals.

  I hugged her gently. “Thanks, Mom. And thanks for all your help.”

  She put her hand on the side of my face. “Your special day is finally here.”

  I smiled. “Almost. And don’t make me cry! Maya will know…” You know how she feels about fixing makeup she’s already applied to perfection.

  My mom bustled over to the dresser and picked up a necklace and a pair of earrings. “Let’s get out you outfitted with diamonds, Syd.”

  Kate and I had always had the privilege of borrowing our mother’s diamond pendant and earrings for special occasions. Who wouldn’t feel special wearing these beautiful pieces of jewelry? My mom had generously cleared me to wear them for tonight’s dinner and tomorrow’s big day. It was the final touch every girl wanted.

  After she had adjusted the necklace and earrings, she stepped back to admire me. “Even better! And I didn’t think that was possible.”

  Suddenly, the bathroom door opened. “Duck! You look stunning!”

  I had to stifle a laugh. There was my dad, fresh from the shower, wearing nothing but a towel and a huge grin. I went over and carefully gave him a kiss on the cheek. He was still fairly wet and I had no intention of damaging my dress.

  I grinned at him. “I love you, Dad.”

  “And I love you, Duck.” He tapped my nose. “Now, unless you want to see more of your father than you ever have, I suggest you exit the room.”

  “That is a sight I could never extract from my brain.” I walked to the door and waved to them. “See you in forty-five minutes. Don’t be late!”

  I closed the door to my parents’ room and wondered who I should pop in on next. While I pondered my choices, three doors opened simultaneously and three heads popped out. I laughed when I saw Kate, Zoe and Maya all staring at me.

  “Hi, girls!” I beamed.

  The three of them burst into the hallway, each talking at the same time.

  Kate squealed with delight. “You look amazing! That dress is perfect for you!”

  Zoe whistled. “Nice choice!”

  Maya kept her voice calm. “You look really hot, Syd.”

  I laughed. “Thank you! You all look pretty hot yourselves.” Kate was wearing a gray short sleeved scoop neck dress with a knee length skirt, Zoe was wearing a black sleeveless sheath dress with a beautifully embroidered skirt and Maya was wearing an emerald green halter dress with both bedazzled neck and hemline.

  I took a deep breath. “I can’t believe we’re here.”

  Zoe smiled. “It’s been a long road.”

  Maya snickered. “And rather short as well, since you knew Louis for about five minutes before you married him the first time.”

  I smacked Maya in the butt and then pulled the three of them into a group hug. “I don’t care if this sounds cheesy. You three are…well, you mean the world to me. Thank you for getting me here in one piece.”

  Kate stroked my hair as tears formed in her eyes. “I’d do anything for you, Syd. You know that.”

  I nodded, unable to speak.

  Maya smirked at me. “You would, wait, you WILL do the same for me. So, make sure you bring your A game, bitch.”

  Zoe laughed. “Thank you, Maya, for such a heartfelt statement.” She tapped her watch. “We’d better get the men moving.”

  After one last hug for each of them, I took off in search of Louis. He wasn’t hard to find; all I had to do was follow the yelling. I went as fast as I could in my rather high sandals, which ended up being a bizarre kind of gallop, and found Louis in the doorway of his parent’s hotel room.

  “Bluey! What’s going on?” I stopped to catch my breath.

  The look on his face was not pleasant. “My mother is not ready yet.”

  I regarded him with my poker face. “OK. When will she be ready?” At that point, I felt only a mild irritation at this news, so I had to be the one to stay in control.

  He shook his head. “I have no idea.”

  I put my hand on his arm. “Don’t worry. The dinner won’t start for another thirty minutes. You and I will head over to the restaurant with my family to greet the out of town guests. Your family can meet us there when she’s ready.” The restaurant was only two blocks down the street, so it would be easy for them to get there.

  He still seemed uneasy. “I don’t know, mon coeur…”

  Plan B. “Do you want me to ask Charlie to wait for them? Or Devon?”

  He sighed. “Devon would be great.”

  I kissed him on the nose. “I’ll go ask him. Be right back.” I suspected Maya wouldn’t be thrilled Devon’s fluency in French had once again landed him with an important responsibility for Louis’ family. Given that he was the only American fluent in French attending the rehearsal dinner, I had a bad feeling she would be feeling resentful once again. It was a good thing there wouldn’t be an open bar. None of us wanted a repeat of that fateful night in France. And I really didn’t want my wedding makeup artist in such a damaged state on the long sought after BIG DAY. I might end up looking like a clown.

  Luckily, Maya was supportive of my request and happily hooked her arm in mine as we walked to the rehearsal dinner. Louis had threatened his mother with disinviting her to the wedding tomorrow if she didn’t arrive at the restaurant within thirty minutes. He had to have known he had made a completely empty threat, since he knew very well that a) she would arrive at the restaurant in her own good time and b) wild horses couldn’t keep her away from tomorrow’s event. She was fascinated at the prospect of a “lavish” American wedding and looked forward to her position as the mother of the groom. All eyes, after all, would be on her.

  The rehearsal dinner went off without a hitch. (Say it with me, WAHOO!) Simone arrived only an hour late and seemed happy to make an entrance on the arm of the gorgeous Devon. The rest of Louis’ family had grown tired of waiting for her and left her under Devon’s careful watch. Ever the gentleman, he performed his duty without complaint. Upon his arrival, Louis told him gratefully that we would forever be in his debt for handling his mother so well. I turned to see the glint in Maya’s eye as she imagined how she would collect on this debt.

  The evening was filled with meaningful toasts from many of our family members and friends. I was completely overcome with emotion as I surveyed the room. So many of my favorite people had traveled here to share this wondrous event with me. I was flooded with memories while I studied each of their faces and remembered with fondness (and some embarrassment, quite frankly) the experiences we had shared. I had grown into the Sydney Durand I am today based in large part on the amazing people right in front of me.

  By the end of the evening, our guests were all happily acquainted and perhaps a little tipsy. OK, maybe slightly drunk would be a better description. Thankfully, my family had been conservative with the alcohol this evening, thereby removing the opportunity for colorful stories being told about them the next day. I think the hangovers they’d had the day after our French wedding still lingered rather vividly in their minds. If they did manage a repeat of their drunken episodes at tomorrow’s wedding, they would be fortunate enough to have access to all the necessary ingredients for my dad’s tarlike hangover remedy.

  During the last fifteen minutes of dinner, our fathers decided they would make their toasts. Michel began and told a loving history of Louis’ life (as translated by Louis, so you had to wonder a little about the actual content of his speech). The lack of bawdy jokes coupled with the laughter from the French posse following certain portions of his speech, led me to believe Louis had censored the good material. I felt a pang of jealousy as I knew I wouldn’t have this option once my father got hold of the microphone. Steeling myself for the worst, I drained the remainder of my glass of champagne and flagged down the waiter for another one.

  At the conclusion of Michel’s toast, my father stood up and smiled at the crowd.
He cleared his throat and we were off and running.

  “I’ve been lucky enough for the past twenty-one years to be the father of this incredible young woman. She has surprised me again and again with her intelligence, her tenacity and her endless capacity for empathy. I’ve watched her stumble through the wonders of dating and have had to tolerate a long procession of men who were simply not good enough for her. Imagine my surprise when she brought home a Frenchman, of all people, and told us she was going to marry him! She didn’t even give us time to talk her out of it!”

  The room erupted into raucous laughter, with the French posse laughing the hardest of all following Louis’ translation.

  He paused and gazed at me with tenderness. “I didn’t think you would ever find a man who’d be good enough for you, Duck. But you’re a most determined young woman. Not only did you find him, but you were brave enough to grab him right away and not let go. And you didn’t give a crap what anyone thought about it. You made me so proud, my little Duck.”

  He kissed me on the cheek and hugged me. “I love you.”

  I nodded, my eyes swimming with tears.

  My dad then raised his glass to the room. “May Duck and Louis have a long and happy life together.”

  Everyone applauded and took a long sip of their drinks.

  As the commotion died down, my dad turned to Louis, microphone still in hand. “And my previous conditions still apply. If you cause her any pain, I’ll break your kneecaps.” He then patted Louis lightly on the cheek and hugged him.

  Those who had paid attention to my dad’s last comment burst out laughing. The remainder looked around in confusion. I shook my head and sincerely hoped Louis wouldn’t translate the last tidbit for his family. I wasn’t sure if they would find my father’s declaration funny or not. Americans already had a reputation for violence; he certainly didn’t need to reinforce it.

  As Louis and I said goodnight to our guests, I was filled with hope for tomorrow. I was so close to the wedding of my dreams. (Well, I hoped I was. I wasn’t sure I could take any other last minute glitches. Keep your fingers crossed for me.) I was giddy at the prospect of donning my beautiful gown and walking down the aisle towards my incredible husband. It may have been the champagne mixed with the high I felt from my dad’s sentimental toast, but I felt so happy I thought my heart was going to burst. Kate and I walked back to the hotel, hand in hand, singing, I’m Getting Married in the Morning. (My Fair Lady? Come on! It’s both a Broadway show AND an incredible movie starring Audrey Hepburn!) A sure sign I was deliriously happy, since my singing voice is atrocious.