Page 2 of The Location Shoot
“Mmm, this place has the most sublime Bellinis,” Ella remarked, taking a sip.
“They use white peaches this time of year,” Luc explained.
“Figures. Everything is better in Paris, even brunch,” Ella said, pulling her long, light brown spirals into a loose bun at the nape of her neck.
“I can’t disagree with that,” Clara said, biting into her buttery brioche. “So, what does our American girl in Paris have planned for the summer? I was thinking we could all take a trip to the south. We need a holiday. Let’s sunbathe on La Côte d’Azur and gorge ourselves on fresh seafood.”
“I’m free after my gallery opening,” Simone said.
“Ooh, I’m in,” another added.
“Me too,” someone else chimed in.
“Ella?” Luc asked.
“Sounds divine, but I’m not sure. Jean’s film is shooting somewhere in the Swedish countryside over the next three months. He’s invited me to tag along. Knowing him, he’ll pester me until I agree. I haven’t committed to anything yet,but I’ll probably go at some point. The change of scenery might do my writing some good.”
“Who says no to being on the set of a Jean Mercier film, in picturesque Sweden, no less?” Simone said.
Ella smiled. “Visiting his location shoots is always a treat. One never knows what will happen. Plus, it’s a chance for some quiet time. I could use a break from the city.” She took a bite of heroeufs en cocotteand said, “But I would miss this, the company and the heavenly food.”
“Go to Sweden, darling. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience,” Simone said. “But wait until after my show. I don’t want you to miss it.”
“Of course, if you want to meet a beautiful man and have a steamy affair, come to the Riviera with us. This is what the French do best, after all, especially in the summertime. You’re too gorgeous and fabulous to be alone. Romance beckons. You can always call it research and development for your next book,” Luc said.
Ella giggled. “The last thing I’m looking for is a man.”
“Then watch out,” Luc cautioned. “That’s one thing we French seem to understand better than you Americans: lightning always strikes when we least expect it.”
“ALBIE, DARLING, WOULD YOU LIKEmore tea?” Margaret asked, placing the hand-painted porcelain pot on the coffee table.
He shook his head and reached out for her hand. “Sit down with me, my love.”
She sat beside him on the couch, and he draped his arm around her. “Let’s just be still together until I have to go,” he said.
“When is the car service picking you up?” she asked, nuzzling closer to him.
“About an hour. They’re getting Charlotte first. I thought it would be nice for us to travel together since she’s so nearby. It will give us a chance to catch up.”
“When was the last time you worked together?” Margaret asked.
“About four years ago, when we did that show at the National Theatre.”
“Ah, how could I forget? Your performance was so lovely.”
He kissed the side of her head. “I know you’d prefer if I stayed with you this summer.”
“I’ll just be wandering around this old townhouse like a loose marble in an empty drawer.”
“Margaret . . .”
“Don’t worry. London will keep me busy, always does. I’ll work on the garden, volunteer at the library, see my friends. It’s just that you fill this space so perfectly. It’s a bit lonely without you, that’s all.”
“It’s difficult to be away from you too. I hope you know that.”
“There’s no need for us to be maudlin,” she interrupted. “You must work. After all these years, I understand that. It’s just . . . I worry about you, darling. You never say a word about it, but I know you haven’t been feeling well. What if . . .”
He squeezed her. “My sweet Margaret, please don’t worry. I’m stronger than you think. Like an ox. This will be good for me.”
