“The tea is a crutch. The sooner you’re rid of it, the more powerful your gift will become.” She moved the tea service closer to the register. “You won’t be doing the samples today. Instead, you’ll assist me as needed. Oh, before I forget. Can you drop by Ines’s bakery right now to pick up more cookies? This way, we’ll have them ready, and if we run out, you can get more when you get lunch.”
“Will do. I’ll be back soon.”
Mornings in the neighborhood were accompanied by a steady rhythm of traffic and curious tourists. I appreciated Aunt Evelyn’s choice of location. Surrounded by beautiful shops, cafés, bakeries, and patisseries, the tea shop’s immediate neighbors were an upscale furniture designer and an antique shop.
Antiquing was a classic aunties pastime and one of Ma’s hobbies. Many weekend afternoons were spent at various rummage sales in the suburbs, out-of-the-way country stores, hole-in-the-wall spots, or posh establishments in the city. They only entered the expensive boutiques for fact-finding. Each auntie hunted for specific items, and they were helpful to one another unless it involved a long-running rivalry like that between Auntie Gloria and Auntie Ning. Auntie Faye, for example, searched for vintage costume jewelry, which sometimes overlapped with Auntie Madeline’s collection of antique brooches. Auntie Suzanne brought home rare Royal Doulton teacups, while Auntie Annette and Auntie Lulu loved royal memorabilia. The twins, Bea and Belle, competed for rare editions of classic novels.
Above all, the aunties preferred the challenge of a great find at a bargain price. Bragging was done afterward at their favorite noodle shops and dim sum haunts.
As I approached the bakery, I saw Ines filling one of the baskets with brioche. Luc walked in holding a heavy crate and made his delivery. The connection between the two was apparent even from a distance. After he left, Luc took a last, lingering peek at Ines through the window.
There must be a way to get them together. Paris was the city of love, yet it seemed to need a little help.
Twenty-Five
I have madeleines for you this morning,” Ines declared as I walked into her bakery. “I think they will go well with your aunt’s teas.”
She showed me a tray of puffy golden shell-shaped cookies with the last third painted with milk chocolate and sprinkled with crushed pistachios. From the aroma and appearance alone, I had already decided I’d be coming back for a second box at lunchtime.
She began packing them. “These have a hint of orange blossom essence. Let me know what you think after you try one.”
“Has Luc been by?” I asked, admiring a display of stacked palmiers under a glass dome. The flat swirled cookies, sprinkled with sugar crystals, called to me.
A hint of a smile graced Ines’s lips. “He has. There’s a reason I look forward to deliveries every day.”
“Why don’t you ask him out?”
She shook her head. “I’ve been dropping hints for years. If he wants this to go beyond flirtation, he needs to make the first move.”
I made a note to speak with Luc. I hoped he spoke English. His delivery schedule seemed regular enough. Speaking with him after he left the bakery wouldn’t interfere with my morning cookie errand.
“Maybe he’ll wake up tomorrow morning and realize what he needs to do.” I paid for the package of madeleines and placed my advance order for lunch.
She jotted it down and pinned the note onto the corkboard behind the counter. “We shall see. I’ve known him for years. He’s not one to take the first step. It’s one of his more infuriating traits.”
“Is he afraid to take a leap of faith? People like that tend to be the ones who are more careful with their own hearts.”
“Are you sure you’ve never met Luc before?” Ines asked with a laugh.
“My uncle Michael was like that. I knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he found the right person who took the initiative. I introduced him to one of the bravest men I knew and they are both incredibly happy.”
“Then Luc will need to find his own dose of courage to be able to do what you’re asking.”
A stream of customers who needed Ines’s attention entered the bakery. I waved goodbye and made my way back to the tea shop.
I passed by an older man with a leather jacket and I thought of Marc. There had been no communication since we parted. It wasn’t that I expected to hear from him, but I had hoped.
My phone buzzed. It was Auntie Faye. I juggled the cookie box against my hip and checked the screen. My aunt had sent a picture of the back of the photo that contained the note. The handwriting was elegant and slanted, resembling the peaks and valleys of a cardiogram.
“You have every piece of me,” I read aloud. Auntie Faye sent two more massive text blocks detailing her conspiracy theories about Aunt Evelyn’s mysterious beau. After filtering through the information, the aunties had latched onto the idea of hiring an overseas private investigator. The last message made me giggle: “He was pretty a long time ago, but he might be ugly old.”
He wasn’t. The years had been generous to both Girard and Aunt Evelyn. Unspent passion was an elixir of youth.
“Vanessa?”
I turned my head toward a familiar voice. Marc stood behind me in a black tee, brown leather jacket, and dark denim. He was close enough that I could smell the scent of sugar and coffee on him.
I searched his eyes for signs that this was an unwanted meeting.
“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” I said.
“I didn’t think you’d want to see me after what happened.” He rubbed the side of his neck and lowered his eyes. “You were right. I was getting too caught up in late-night poker games and needed to step away. Work had been stressful and I’d been using them to blow off steam. When I met you at the gardens, I had time to reassess my career, being here in Paris, and my life. You helped me figure out what I wanted.”
“And what do you want?”
“You.” He reached for my hand and I placed it in his. “I’m not afraid of the truth, not if it comes from you.”
He was supposed to walk away. He wasn’t supposed to come back. I knew the pattern. I had reconciled my lot. A lump gathered in my throat, and all of the losses I had suffered over the years overwhelmed me. A sob escaped, surprising us both. Marc gathered me into his arms and held me tight.
He whispered into my hair, “I’m here for as long as you want me to stay.”
I inhaled his wonderful scent and buried my face against his leather jacket. “I missed you.”
“So did I. Seeing the city through your eyes was refreshing.” He held me tighter. “How did you know so much about me?”