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“It’s the American girl,” Simone grumbles.
“It was Grandmama.” I glare at Simone. “That was why I first came out here, I’ll remind you. Sebastien was taking care of everything, whileyouwere in Italy,” I gesture to Father, “andyouoffered no support!” I point my finger at Simone.
“What did you expectmeto do? I offered up two support workers, and Grandmama summarily dismissed them. I certainly couldn’t be at her beck and call. I have a conference next week on my findings.” Simone crosses her arms and throws her hip to the side, challenging me with her eyes.
“Everything in Paris is riding on you,” Father lowers his voice, restraining himself. “And you take a vacation?”
“Vacation? Father, I have spent every night at this very table, trying to come up with solutions that will get us out of this rut.”
“And while you’ve been thinking so hard, Simone has found a possible solution for us.”
“That’s interesting” I turn to Simone. “She couldn’t be bothered to tell me about it?”
“You were busy,” she glares back at me, “with the American girl you were supposed to fire. And yet I saw her earlier today, skipping around the garden.”
I cover my face to keep from saying something I shouldn’t. “You have some nerve—"
“Listen to her idea,” Father says.
I drop my arms to my sides as Simone straightens her shoulders.
“We sponsor the Paris Opera.” She waits for a reaction that she doesn’t get and then continues. “They are our primary audience for the restaurants, and such sponsorship will give the name of the Dubois Estates, and specifically the Bouchon Noir, the exposure it needs.”
“Let me get this straight,” I cross my arms to hide my fists. “You want us to pay an enormous amount of money in the hopes that it might create additional publicity for us, just when cashflow is our very problem?”
“Olivier.” She rolls her eyes. “Always looking at the negatives.”
“This is no solution.”
“You’re struggling’. We all see it.” Sebastien steps forward, finally speaking though not saying what I would like him to, despite the look of conciliation on his face. “’Everything’s waiting on you, Olivier.”
“It’s like I said,” Simone grunts. “He’s been playing games in the garden with the American girl.”
“You’ve said enough, Simone,” Sebastien says. “And you’re wrong about Natalie. She’s the best thing that could’ve happened to this family with Grandmama in her current state.” He looks at me. “But I agree with her about the restaurant. We’ve got to do something.”
“Something!” Father shouts. “Anything!”
Sebastien rubs his hands together. “I have some ideas I’d like to share—”
“Not again!” Father cries. “No more talk of transforming the Bouchon Noir!”
I see what Seb’s trying to do. And with all I’ve learned these last couple of days, the least I can do is back him up.
“Maybe we should listen, Father.”
“No!”
The doors to the dining room burst open, crashing against the wall behind them, with Grandmama standing, albeit off balance, while Natalie attempts to hold her upright.
“That is enough of these raised voices,” Grandmama declares. “This is not the way our family solves problems. Sit,” she demands, and we all obey.
“Not you,” she says, pointing at Simone. “It’s time you leave.”
“But Grandmama—"
“No. This is a time for family.”
Simone slinks out of her seat, her displeasure oozing like venom from a snake’s fang.
