“I’m forty-one years old. I want to get married and have kids.” She was thirty-five and still felt none of that.
“Is that the woman I saw you with a few months ago? She’s tall and blond, you were at Christie’s together.” Francesca sounded sad. It was hard to get used to the idea of his being with someone else.
“Probably. I’ve been seeing her since February. We’re getting married early next year. I thought you should know before we announce it or tell anyone else.”
“Thank you,” she said softly. She was happy for him if that was what he wanted. But hearing it still hurt. He knew it would. They were different people with different needs. It was what had driven them apart. And now he was engaged. It left her feeling dazed all day after she thanked him for telling her and wished him luck.
She was still feeling down about it when she went home that night. Chris was getting out of a cab as she walked up the front steps. He had delivered a design project to an art director uptown, this time for a New Age- looking capsule designed to contain laundry detergent. He looked happy to see her.
“How was your day?” he asked as she unlocked the front door. It was nice for both of them to have someone to come home to. Neither of them would have otherwise.
“Not so good. Todd called to tell me he’s engaged.” They had few secrets from each other now, if any, except for their hopes and dreams, which they kept to themselves. But after the drama with Ian’s mother, and Eileen getting beaten up, they talked about everything that happened to them on a daily basis, and considered each other friends, as they did Marya and Eileen.
“Wow, that’s heavy,” Chris commented as he followed her into the front hall. There were the usual fabulous smells coming from the kitchen. They were used to it by now, they loved it but were less impressed, although the smells wafting up to them were particularly good that night. All of them offered to chip in for the food, but most of the time, Marya insisted on providing it herself. It was her generous and greatly appreciated gift to them. They all gave her little gifts whenever they could, and Chris bought her some very good wine. “Are you upset?” Francesca looked shaken as she turned to look at him. She hadn’t expected this from Todd, not this soon anyway.
“Yes, I am,” she said honestly. “I guess I should be gracious about it and say I’m happy for him, but I’m not sure I am. I’m still sad for me that it didn’t work out with us.”
“At least you both admitted it and cut your losses. It took me ten years to do that, and by the time I did, I was a mess and never wanted a relationship again. You did it in half the time, and you were decent to each other. I waited till she nearly destroyed my life along with her own. I kept thinking Kim would get clean and stay off drugs for good. The relationship we had was totally sick. I was addicted to her, and thought I could help her fix herself. No one can do that. She’s a mess. You and Todd are whole people, but you wanted different things. You figured that out and moved on. He found someone, so will you. You didn’t destroy each other on the way out.” She felt sorry for him when he talked about Ian’s mother. She could barely imagine what a nightmare that must have been, and it still was, at their child’s expense, which was even worse.
“You’re not too old to find someone too, you know,” she reminded him gently.
“Not too old,” he admitted. He was thirty-eight. “But possibly too damaged and too badly burned. I’m not sure I could ever trust anyone again, in a relationship. She lied to me constantly and I believed her. She slept with her dealer. It took me three years to figure out she couldn’t stay off drugs. Addicts are incredibly convincing and amazing liars. She’s a piece of work. I feel sorry for her now, but I hate what she does to Ian.” Francesca nodded. He had been essentially out of the marriage for two years, ever since he gave up on her, although he had only left her six months before. He had stayed with friends in the beginning, then a hotel, and had finally come here. Francesca was sure he’d find someone again, and he was equally sure of it about her. They were both too young to give up on love forever.
“Let’s go see what Marya is cooking up for us tonight,” he said, to distract them both. They had been trying out recipes for her almost every night. She’d been cooking up a storm, and all of them were gaining weight.
Francesca followed Chris down the stairs to the kitchen, expecting to see Marya, and both of them looked startled when they saw a tall white-haired man instead. He had fierce blue eyes and a mane of shoulder-length white hair. He looked at them with suspicion for an instant and then burst into a broad smile.
“Francesca and Chris?” he asked in a heavy French accent. He seemed to know who they were. He introduced himself as Charles-Edouard, and suddenly Francesca realized who he was. His last name was Prunier, and he was one of the most famous chefs in France and obviously one of Marya’s friends. She appeared a moment later and explained that he was in town from Paris and was cooking for them that night. She promised that it would be an unforgettable experience, and he looked at her with eyes that sparkled. He was a very handsome man.
They shared a bottle of champagne he had brought with him, and everyone in the house was excited about dinner. Eileen came home a few minutes later with flowers she had bought for Francesca and Marya and a bottle of wine for Chris. They were a lively bunch talking about France as she walked in. Charles-Edouard said that he and Marya had known each other for thirty years. It was easy to see that he had a crush on her, and he flirted with her as they cooked together. She was playing sous-chef that night and chopping things for him, as he juggled half a dozen pans, and twice as many bowls. She looked at him with affectionate smiles from time to time, and they seemed very comfortable with each other.
The result when they sat down to dinner was stupefying. Everyone agreed that they had never had a dinner like it in their lives. He was modest and funny and outrageous, and he constantly looked at Marya with loving glances, which she happily ignored. She loved cooking with him, and they were thinking of writing a book together about the delicacies and herbs of Provence and how to use them. But the handsome Frenchman obviously wanted to collaborate with her on more than that.
“He’s adorable,” Francesca whispered to Marya as they did the dishes together. “And he’s crazy about you.” It was easy for anyone to see and they all had, while eating his astoundingly good dinner. He and Chris were smoking cigars in the garden, while the three women washed up. And after that, Eileen went upstairs. “What about him?” Francesca asked. She thought they made a very handsome pair, and he was about Marya’s age.
“Don’t be silly,” Marya said shyly, and then laughed. “And what about his wife? He’s very French. He’s married to a very sweet woman who used to be one of his sous-chefs. He’s cheated on her for years.” She said it as though talking about a badly behaved brother.
“Would he ever get divorced?” Francesca asked with interest. She was feeling better about Todd’s engagement after a very pleasant evening, an exquisite meal with good friends, and a bevy of fine wines.
“Of course not. He’s French. French men don’t get divorced. They cheat until they die, usually in someone else’s bed, like their mistress’s. I’m not sure she’s any more faithful to him, and he claims they’ve never been happy. But he sleeps with everyone in every kitchen he works in. I don’t want to get in the middle of a mess like that. I like him better as a friend.”
“That’s too bad. He’s cute. He’s very good-looking. Keep him away from my mother, or she’ll be chasing him and dragging him to the nearest divorce lawyer. Maybe you should think about that.” Marya shook her head and laughed. “Your mother might just be a match for him. I’m not. I can’t deal with men like that. John and I were faithful to each other all our lives. I prefer men like that. Charles-Edouard is handsome and exciting, but he’s a very, very bad boy.” Marya had no doubt about it.
“He sounds like my father before he married Avery. Sometimes men like that do reform.”
“Yeah, one in a hundred million. I don’t like those kinds of odds. I’d rather work with him and keep him as a friend,” Marya said firmly with a smile. “This way he’s someone else’s problem, not mine.”
Chris and Charles-Edouard wandered back into the kitchen then with what was left of the Cuban cigars the famous chef had smuggled in. He poured each of them a brandy then, and halfway through it he said he had been in love with Marya for thirty years. He looked at her adoringly, and she laughed at him. She took his declarations of love for her with a grain of salt.
“Yeah, me and ten thousand other women. That’s a long list, Charles-Edouard,” she teased him as he smiled.
“But you were always top of that list.” He twinkled as he teased her.
“That’s because you couldn’t have me, and you still can’t. Besides, I like your wife.”
“So do I,” he said matter-of-factly with a mischievous smile. “I’m just not in love with her. I don’t think I ever was. We’re very good friends now. She went after me once with a butcher knife,” he said, pointing to his lower parts with the stub of his cigar, and they all laughed. “I’ve been very nice to her ever since.” He said he had no children either, like Marya, and had never wanted any. “I’m too much of a child myself,” he confessed. He was totally charming and easy to be with. It had been a magical evening for all of them, and he promised to cook dinner
