“You’re laughing. That’s good, no? I expected you to be more protective.”
“I am protective. I’m still going to have him investigated.” I tossed a remaining piece of cucumber that was on the edge of my plate into my mouth.
“Okay.”
“I was joking. I trust your judgment.”
“I don’t. Not in matters of the heart. Not after your father.” She looked back out to sea.
I inhaled deeply through my nose. That was the thing, wasn’t it? One could have all the good judgment and intuition in the world, and be successful in business, but those you chose to give your heart to, who had power to hurt you the most, that was where the Pascale family seemed to have a blind spot.
I was aware of all the dark spaces in my heart. Never more than right now. They’d grown comfortable, those dark spaces. But I suddenly realized, over the last couple of weeks, they’d become like grit in the cracks, broken and irritating. And I definitely wanted to brush them out of the way and let the light in. Looking at my mother, noticing the glow I’d missed when I arrived today, it looked as though she was living again.
I wondered how that felt.
I wondered if I’d ever feel brave enough to try it.
Dauphine came running across the grass to the stone patio, Josie trailing behind her. She’d been smiling at something Dauphine said, but it slipped a bit on seeing me. She refocused on my mother instead. God, why did I feel so shitty about her?
“You have a beautiful home,” Josephine addressed my mother. “Belle Epoque Architecture?”
“That’s right. Built in the 1880s. You like history?”
“I do. And architecture, of course.”
“Josie is an architect!” Dauphine said with pride.
My mother looked at me, her eyebrows raised again before turning back to our visitor. “My goodness! My son didn’t tell me.”
“No,” Josephine said, her eyes trained solely on my mother. “I don’t suppose he did. I’ve been qualified for several years now. Some of my favorite courses in college were the architectural influences in this part of France. I also have some French heritage. It’s always been on my list to come here in person.”
“Well, I know you’re headed home but hopefully you were able to see some of the architecture along the coast. It spans from before Roman times.”
“Um, no. I wasn’t able to see that much actually. Not up close anyway.” Her eyes flicked to mine briefly. “I’ll have to plan a trip here some other time.”
“What? Have you been a prisoner on that boat?” my mother admonished.
She’s the fucking nanny, I wanted to protest. That’s where her job is. Was. Whatever.
Josephine gave a small, tight laugh. And while I knew I wasn’t required to provide day trips and excursions for people I hired to look after my daughter, I was suddenly filled with guilt and remorse. Which felt like just about the stupidest thing ever. My mother was leading Josie to the table to sit and motioning for Astrid to bring us coffee after she’d cleared the table. “So,” she was saying, “how does an architect find herself working as a nanny for my grumpy son?”
“Excuse me,” I said. “I have to check in with Evan and make a few calls.” I leaned down and kissed my mother on the cheek and turned my back, striding toward the patio doors that led inside. I didn’t need to sit there while I was needled passive aggressively by my own mother. “Do you have to leave right away?” I heard her ask Josie. “Perhaps you could stay in the area a few more days. You know I’m on several preservation committees, and I can point you toward some wonderful areas to visit.”
A few days? She was here for one more night. That was it. The sooner she left, the sooner I could forget the feel of her under my hands and get her out of my head.
“Fuck,” I muttered as I entered the cool interior of the house, my shoes squeaking slightly on the marble floor.
“Was just coming to find you,” said Evan, rounding the corner. “Should have just followed the cursing. What’s up your bum?”
“I hate that expression.”
“I know. That’s why I use it.”
“Are you seriously telling me you couldn’t figure out a way to get her to Paris for her flight? We have a helicopter for fuck’s sake.”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask me that. You insult me.”