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"Olivier, would you reconsider?"
"I'm sorry, Natalie. There is no reconsidering to be done. It's the right thing to do for now, even if it's not what I would have wanted."
"I see," I say, though I don’t. “I'll gather my things."
"The car will come shortly for you. Make your way down when you're ready, but please don't take long. Simone will be back again soon, and I don't want to have to make this any harder than it needs to be."
"Of course, of course." I nod quickly. I can do this. I can play a role. I can be the employee who's going back to her regular day job. That's all.
Now just to convince the rest of me it's true. Particularly that lump that's growing in my throat.
Wait. My debt… that’s the reason I came here in the first place. It feels like forever ago, even though the sound of smashing crystal is still alive in my ears. Maybe because of all the airborne teacups.
“Olivier, the money I owe you—”
"Oh, Natalie. Your debt was cleared before you even arrived here.”
“But…” I cock my head at him. Confused doesn’t begin to sum it up.
He turns and lets himself out, the door clicking behind him.
It doesn't take me long to pack because I hardly have anything to my name. A couple pairs of jeans, a wide-brimmed hat, toothpaste, and a shred of dignity.
I don't see Olivier as I walk out the front door. I don't see anyone, for that matter, except Marcial, the driver who opens the trunk of the black stretched sedan. I glance back at the house one more time, in case he’s watching. But there's no one except…
Grandmama.
She's leaning far out the window, her fingertips waving me goodbye. I wave back in the same fashion, and she offers me a weak smile before blowing me a kiss and disappearing from sight.
It's amazing how the same road looks so different on the way back from when I first came. Everything had seemed magical then, like I was being whisked away, Cinderella-style, to do my penance in a French château. But a part of me really believed there would be a ball waiting for me at the end, with a giant dress and a crystal shoe.One that was unbreakable.
My phone pings with a text.
Don’t you worry. We’re going to take you to the bal populaire. Maybe you won’t forget everything, but you can try, right? Laura adds a shrug emoticon.
I guess I'm getting my ball after all, just not the one I thought.
CHAPTER 27
Natalie
"You see?" Laura screams over the blare of the music. "I told you this was a great idea. Hasn’t it made you forget everything that took place these last couple of weeks?"
She's not wrong. In fact, she's totally right that if you want to forget your woes, then the bal populaire is the place to be. Swathes of people dance and laugh with joie de vivre. We join a circle where we skip and turn, trying to keep up with the locals. The band is full of life, joy ringing out from the accordion while the flute dances—literally, the flute guy is dancing around the accordion player.
Everywhere we turn, drinks are flowing and sardines are frying on coal barbecues. I’d never guess that we are in the center of Paris, but then again Paris is a whole lot bigger than any city I've ever visited, Houston included. The French may not be able to make guacamole to save their lives, but this grilled fish is a piece of heaven.
A group of guys approach us. A cute one with a cheeky smile speaks to me in French, but I can't make it out over the blaring flute.
"Sorry," I shout. "I didn't hear you."
"You speak English?" he says, his eyes lighting up. "Do you like to dance?"
"I do like to dance."
"Uh…" he pauses, clearly searching his brain for the right words. "Do you like to dance… with me?"
"I do like to dance with you," I say in my Texan sweetheart voice, and hold out my hand.
