Page 58 of From Paris, with Butter
Why was Laurent’s grandmother even in this cursed shed? And where thehell was Laurent?
I took as long as humanly possible to get dressed and do my hair, but, eventually, I had to open the bathroom door. Madame Roche was standing right where I’d left her. If anything, she looked even more terrifying now.
I switched into work mode, telling myself she was just another stranger to chat to; I did that every day. No need to recall that I’d been stark naked when we’d met, although the puddle of water where I’d been standing was an unhelpful reminder.
“Enchantée, Madame Roche,” I said, all smiles. “My name is Margot Delcour. I’m visiting from Paris with Laurent. How was your journey here?”
Madame Roche regarded me stonily. “How did you meet Laurent?” From her tone, it was clear she was thinking a brothel or worse.
“Laurent moved into the apartment next to mine. We hit it off right away. I could smell him cooking—"
“What do you do for work?” she interrupted, still looking imperious.
“I’m a server at Le Jules Verne in Paris.” I smiled again. My cheeks were beginning to hurt.
Madame Roche sniffed. “Laurent’s last girlfriend was a lawyer. A very successful one.”
Ah. OK then, she’s that type of person.
“That’s wonderful,” I said, forcing another smile. “Both my grandfathers were lawyers, and they loved their work.”
Madame Roche had opened her mouth to ask what I’m sure would be another blunt and borderline-offensive question when the door banged open and Laurent rushed in, looking harried.
“Grand-mère! Now, come on, I know Uncle told you that you’d be staying in the house for this visit. I wanted to be back in my old room.” He looked between us, his face still somewhat frantic. “You’ve already met Margot?”
“Yes,” his grandmother replied icily. “It was illuminating.”
I could tell Laurent was looking at me, but I was too embarrassed to meet his eyes.
As Laurent hustled his grandmother out, she stared at me over her shoulder the entire time, until he firmly shut the door behind her. That done, he leanedagainst the door and heaved a sigh of relief.
“That’s not the way I wanted you to meet Grand-mère, but at least now it’s out of the way.” He went to hug me, then paused, noticing my expression. “What’s the matter?”
It all came out: Beau, the shouting, the nakedness, the handshake during the nakedness…I’d sunk to the ground with my head in my hands as I told most of the story, and every time I looked at Laurent his expression of concern slipped more and more as he struggled to hold back his laughter.
“This isn’t funny!” I exclaimed.Thatwas what sent Laurent over the edge. I glared at him as he collapsed to the floor, shaking with laughter. I can’t believe I’d let this man half undress me less than an hour ago.
When Laurent finally got ahold of himself, he wiped his eyes, a stray giggle escaping here and there. “Au contraire, that story is objectively hilarious.”
“You don’t think she’ll tell anyone?” I asked worriedly.
“Oh, I’m sure she’s already told everyone,” Laurent said, and he laughed again at my reaction. “Don’t worry; you were never going to win her over.Istill haven’t won her over, and I’m her grandson. Grand-mère is just a tough nut to crack. I should have warned you earlier, but I thought we’d have more time before she arrived.”
“She appears to be a fan of your ex-girlfriend.” I knew I was treading potentially dangerous ground, but something about being full-frontal with Laurent’s grandmother had turned me reckless.
Laurent rolled his eyes. “Yes, my ex is the granddaughter of one of her old friends. Grand-mère is the one who set us up, actually, and she was the only family member who approved of our relationship. I should have taken it as a sign to run screaming in the opposite direction. Now come on, we don’t want dinner to get cold.”
There were roughly ten thousand things I’d rather do than face Laurent’s family, but I allowed him to guide me back to the house.
When we stepped inside, I briefly hoped that Laurent’s grandmother hadn’t mentioned anything about The Incident. But then I realized that everyone was being just a littletoofriendly. And it didn’t help that Noelle was over in the corner, nearly crimson from choking back laughter.
I fled to the kitchen, where Laurent’s mother was finishing up the meal. When she saw me, she didn’t say a word. Instead, she hugged me, holding tight for a moment. It was a small gesture, but so unexpected that tears sprung into my eyes.
“Can I help with plating the food?” I offered, hurriedly blinking my tears away. “I like to keep busy.”
The big dinner would be tomorrow, on Christmas Eve, so today the menu was fairly simple, although everything looked delicious. There was roast chicken, cod braised with tomatoes and olives, endive salad, and a cheeseboard piled so high I was terrified it’d collapse on me as I brought it to the table.
Laurent’s parents had one of those grandiose dining rooms common in older homes. Several tables had been pulled together to make a massive table, and chairs seemed to have been brought in from all corners of the house. That should have meant plenty of opportunities for me not to sit near Grand-mère, but as soon as I took my seat, she chose the seat directly across from mine. Every time I glanced her way, I found her eyes boring into me.
