Legacy

kissed him, he knew he was the luckiest man alive that the chief’s daughter named Wachiwi was his, and would be until the end of his days. She was the dancer of his heart and soul and dreams.

Chapter 19

Brigitte

On Monday, Brigitte spent the day doing errands, and a little shopping. She wanted to buy a present for her mother, and something for Amy and her kids. She walked along the Seine again after that, and she went to see an exhibit she had wanted to see since she arrived but hadn’t had time for. She figured that she had another day or two of museums and monuments she wanted to see, and then she no longer had an excuse, she had to leave. She had to get on with her life. And her real life was in Boston, not here. But she loved being in Paris anyway.

When Marc dropped her back at her hotel on Sunday, he had said he would call her soon. He knew she was leaving that week. He mentioned that he had a meeting with his editor the next day, and he called her late Monday afternoon and invited her to dinner. He suggested a place she’d never heard of before, in the seventeenth arrondissement, and he said they had excellent food.

He picked her up at eight o’clock and they had a terrific evening together, as always, and at the end of the meal, as they drank cafe filtre and shared ice cream and “macarons,” he looked at her sheepishly and said he had a confession to make. She couldn’t imagine what it was, and was stunned when he told her. He had called his friend at the admissions office of AUP and asked him if they would meet with her to see about a job. He admitted readily that it was a presumptuous thing to do, but he insisted that there was no harm in it. If they had nothing, it didn’t matter, and if they did, she could always turn it down if she didn’t want it. She said she didn’t, and was shocked and annoyed by what he’d done, although she knew he meant well. But she didn’t like his presumption.

“If you’re so hot for me to come here,” she snapped at him, “why don’t you move to Boston?” But the big difference between them was that he had a job, and she didn’t, which made her considerably more mobile. She had very little to anchor her in Boston, and he had much more here. He was still teaching at the Sorbonne and had obligations that Brigitte didn’t.

“Are you very angry at me?” He looked apologetic, and was aware that it was a pretty gutsy thing to do, but he liked her so much, she seemed at loose ends, and he would have loved it if she moved to Paris, even for a year. If nothing else, they would be good friends. Of that he was sure, and so was she. But she wasn’t about to move to Paris for a friend, or a job at AUP. She was going back to Boston to find a job there in the academic community she was familiar with.

“I’m not angry,” she explained. “Maybe just surprised… flattered… it’s nice to know someone cares that much to try so hard to get me to stay. I’m just not used to people lining up interviews for me, or making my decisions.” Ted never had, and she preferred it that way. She was an independent person, even if she was currently out of a job, and she was perfectly capable of finding one herself. He had offended her a little by setting up the interview for her, but she knew his intentions were good, and she forgave him because of that.

“The decision is yours, Brigitte,” he said firmly. “I just wanted to give you the opportunity if you want it.” She didn’t, but now she didn’t want to be rude.

“What did you tell them at AUP?” She was curious now, even though she wasn’t going to interview for a job.

“That you’re brilliant and charming and a terrific person and I’m sure you’re very good at what you do, and you worked for ten years at Boston University and are looking for a change.”

“Well, that sounds about right,” she conceded, “especially the brilliant, charming, terrific part.” And she was ready for a change. She just didn’t know to what, and the admissions office at another school would be all too similar to what she used to do. It hadn’t been a very exciting job, and she realized now that she had been bored a lot of the time. She had done a lot of very tedious work, which was the downside of never having wanted too much responsibility. So she did a lot of menial things. That was the trade-off.

“It’s a very small school, and may be more fun for you than a big school. You’d probably have a lot more contact with the students, and more influence. I think it’s less than a thousand students.” BU had been thirty-two thousand, both graduate and undergraduate, it was huge, and he had a point.

“I suppose I could talk to them, to not put you in an awkward position, and then go home and interview. And if nothing great turns up there, I could always think of the job here as a fallback position.” It seemed funny to use a job in Paris as backup. She knew that to others it would have been top of the list, but she wanted to go home. She told herself she had a life in Boston. But did she, with no boyfriend and no job? She didn’t here either though, and Marc was her only friend. It was something, but not enough, and he was very new in her life, even though he had been very kind. She had a real life, and real friends, somewhere else. But she wasn’t entirely opposed to talking to AUP, since he had set it up. Marc was pleased. He gave her all the details that night before he dropped her off at her hotel, and he said he’d call the next day to see how it went.

And much to Brigitte’s surprise, it went extremely well. The man she met with in the admissions office was personable, easy to talk to, and loved the school. He was the best PR agent they could have had, and by the time she finished listening to him, she was ready to enlist. Almost. She liked everything he said about the department, but they had no job at the moment, and she still wanted to find a job in Boston. Other than that, it was great. And she reported all of it to Marc when he called her. He’d already had an enthusiastic call from his friend, who thought Brigitte would be terrific for them, and had told Marc, as he did Brigitte, that if anything opened up, he’d let her know. It had been something of an exercise in futility, but it was good practice. She hadn’t been on an interview in a while, and it warmed her up for job hunting in Boston.

“Well, I tried,” Marc said, sounding forlorn for a moment. “I guess it would have been too perfect if they offered you a job.”

“I didn’t expect that,” she said kindly. “It was nice of you to set it up. A little pushy maybe,” she teased him, “but nice.” She had decided to accept it in the spirit it had been given, with a warm heart.

“So when are you leaving?” he asked, sounding worried.

“Day after tomorrow,” she said matter-of-factly. She had done almost everything she wanted to do, and she was ready to go. It was time to get on with her life. The interview at AUP had been interesting, but it didn’t change her course. They hadn’t made her an offer, and her sails were set for home.

“I have to have dinner with my publisher tonight. I’m late with the book, and I have to be nice to him, or I’d cancel. And tomorrow I teach a class. Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?” It was her last night in Paris.

“I’d love to.” He had been nothing but nice and generous with her, and she couldn’t think of a more pleasant way to spend her last night in Paris, with a new friend. And hopefully at some point he’d visit Boston, or she’d come to Paris again for a vacation. It was nice knowing people around the world. And Marc was a special person. He really was a lovely man.

He told her he’d pick her up at eight the next day, and she spent the day racing around, tying up loose ends. By the time he came to pick her up, her bags were packed, everything was ready for her to leave the next morning, and she could spend the evening with him and relax. She was wearing a red dress she had bought that afternoon, and he admired it as soon as she came downstairs.

“You look terrific!”

“I saw it in a shop window today, and I couldn’t resist. I figured I should bring something home from Paris.” She had bought a beautiful scarf for her mother, toys for Amy’s kids, and a pretty sweater for Amy. The red dress had been a final splurge.

He took her to another cozy restaurant, and as usual conversation during dinner was lively. They each expressed a thousand opinions, traded experiences, and laughed a lot. And for the first time neither of them mentioned Tristan and Wachiwi, tonight was only about them. Brigitte had a perfect time, and Marc looked genuinely sad when they left the restaurant and took a walk near Notre Dame, which was all lit up.

“How can you leave a city like this?” he asked her, spreading his hands and looking very French again. He had one of those wonderful expressive faces, with a thousand expressions. He always looked very French, and she liked his looks. Ted had been very Anglo-Saxon. He was handsome but not sexy. There was something sensual about