“It’s more than intuition. I have this knack for telling the future. It’s embarrassing. I tend to scare everyone away.”
He pulled away. “You’re serious. Like you can see the future?”
“Yes, but I can’t control it. I never know when I’ll have a vision, or what it will be about. I’m in Paris with my aunt so I can get better at it, but what I want is to be rid of it.”
“Why?”
“It’s cost me so much over the years. You’re the first to return.”
“If they didn’t stay, it’s their problem. I can’t be angry with you for what you saw. It was the truth.”
His absolution surprised me. It was one thing for my family to forgive me; it was another for someone outside to share the same perspective.
“The truth is polarizing,” he continued. “My mother taught me that when one is confronted with the truth, it’s easier to lash out at others than at yourself.” He lowered his gaze to his feet. “It wouldn’t be fair to be upset with you. I can only imagine how difficult it must be.”
“Thank you for understanding.” I smiled. “I hope work has gotten better since your time off.”
“It hasn’t. If anything, it’s worse.” He groaned. “My boss is on edge. He’s been wound up for the past few months, but last night . . . I wasn’t in the dining room, but Colette told me he caused a scene. After she and Henri calmed him down, the boss locked himself in his office afterwards. He was still in there when the cleaning staff left after midnight.”
“Do you work at Le Papillon Bleu?”
“Yes, I’m the pastry chef. How did you know?”
“I was there last night with my aunt. He accosted us at our table. They seem to have a history together.”
I shifted the cookie box in my grasp. “I don’t know much about it though. Aunt Evelyn isn’t the confiding type.”
“Neither is Girard,” he remarked. “Something changed a few months ago, and it escalated around the time I met you. He must have known when construction began on the tea shop. The timeline fits. It might be that he knew your aunt was here, but something’s still off.”
“If I told you I wanted to get them together, would you help me?” I asked.
He narrowed his eyes. “Why would you want to do that?”
It was a valid question. I’d be meddling in two lives I could possibly destroy with what I hoped to accomplish, but that wasn’t what I was worried about. The casualties had already happened. I doubt it could get worse.
Following Auntie Faye’s predilection for conspiracy theories, the narrative was simple. My aunt was miserable, maybe since she’d left France. Girard never got over her.
These two people belonged together. I knew this with the same clarity that Aunt Evelyn saw the future.
“Because this feels right. Will you help me?” I repeated.
Twenty-Six
Asking for help was easy when I wasn’t asking for myself. Every fortune-teller was missing a red thread but, without a doubt, Aunt Evelyn’s match was Girard. By helping them get together, I might bring some happiness back to my aunt’s life. I believed she still loved him. That was all the justification I needed.
“Normally, I’d say no,” Marc said. “I’ve seen setups go sour, but this is different. He’s already miserable and making it difficult for everyone at the restaurant. It’s worth a shot.”
“Thank you.”
“What is my assignment?” he asked.
“Find out what you can about Girard and Evelyn. Someone must know something about what happened between them.”
Marc laughed. “It’s not going to be easy, but I think I know who to ask. With everyone at work being on edge, there’s bound to be some loose lips. When do I report back?”
“Since you’re working, how about tomorrow for breakfast?” I asked.
“Tomorrow won’t work. How about the day after? It gives me more time to gather info. There’re a few people I need to talk to.”
“Okay. The day after tomorrow.”
I lingered too long, staring at his dark eyes and his lips. I missed him and his company.
He smiled and whispered, “Do you want something else?”
“Yes, a kiss.”
Marc took the cookie box from my hands, and with his other arm drew me into a tight embrace. I threaded my fingers through his soft, dark hair. A playful breeze swept around us as our lips met, sweeping the tendrils of my hair upward, curling the ends into perfect waves.
The gust brought the street to a quiet standstill as a sea of pink petals wafted overhead. The breeze tickled the nearby magnolia trees, shaking loose even more petals to collect in the aerial, floral bridal train. Everyone’s eyes, including ours, traveled upward to watch the petals fall. I smiled when I heard the delighted giggles of nearby children.
Marc plucked a stray petal from my hair. “I almost feel bad for the denuded magnolia trees.”
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“You are, yes.”
* * *
* * *
I made my way back to the tea shop before my aunt could send out a search party. I’d been gone too long, but I had a good excuse.
Marc.
He didn’t blame me for the prediction—he wanted to see me again.
If there was hope for me, there was also hope for Aunt Evelyn and Girard. Dabbling in setups was a fun addition to my aunt’s curriculum. I had a feeling today’s lessons would be more challenging than yesterday’s. My teacher was determined to have me do something I’d never done before.
I stepped into the tea shop, uttering a string of apologies to my aunt.
“One more minute and I would have called your phone. Then I saw the snowfall of magnolia petals.” A weak smile tugged at her lips. “When will I meet Marc?”
I laughed and handed her the box of madeleines. “I’ll schedule something soon.”
“Enjoy every moment of it while it lasts.” A somber tone entered her voice. “This city breathes fairy tales. Romance runs through its cobblestones, builds its beautiful palaces, and fuels the stone guardians overlooking the skyline. It’s so easy to fall in love, but to stay in love?”
My aunt kept dropping hints of a tragic romance, but it was never enough to piece together a coherent narrative. If she hadn’t said a word, I wouldn’t be so tantalized with the infinite possibilities of what could have happened. The aunties back home never suspected a thing until the sale of the Victorian.