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“The expression is ‘on your game’.”
“In it, on it,” she waves her hand around, “do whatever you want with it, but know that tomorrow will decide your future. It could be good, or it could be very bad.”
Nothing like a thinly veiled threat to add another layer of anxiety to a high-stress situation.
“Thanks for the heads up.”
She purses her lips and nods, like tomorrow we’re heading into combat together. “Olivier is a special kind of man. Put on your big girl socks.”
No need to correct her again, not when the likes of Olivier Dubois are coming to town.
And he wants to meet me.
CHAPTER 4
Natalie
Just what is this Olivier Dubois going to be like?
I ponder it the whole way home. Olivier Dubois, man of the people, or dictator-of-the-fancy-restaurant heir?
He could be anything.
Maybe he’ll be friendly and warm, complimenting us on our efforts to improve the restaurant’s reputation. Maybe he'll be aloof. Cool and calculating. He's running a multimillion-dollar restaurant business, after all. That takes a certain personality type.
How old is Olivier Dubois anyway? I’ve heard of Dubois Estates, because who hasn’t? I feel like this is something I should have looked up sooner. There’s a château and a vineyard somewhere.
I do the math. The matriarch began it with her home cooking, and she’s the one who transformed it into its current business. Go granny!
So maybe Olivier is my dad’s age. A kind, fatherly type.
Or maybe… Maybe he'll be the Frenchman of my dreams. Romantic, witty, and did I mention gorgeous? And he’ll definitely fall in love with me at first sight.
Ha, not likely. But a girl can dream, can't she?
“Bonjour, bonjour,” I call as I enter the apartment. A light layer of sweat has accumulated on my brow after several stories of stairs.
Five heads turn to face me in the single-room apartment.
“How’s it going, Nat?” Gina waves from the upper bunk. Something about Gina—she was born with a smile on her face but is shy as the day is long. She’s always the first to cheer on everyone else. She’s managed to get a series of temp jobs, but poor thing always messes up job interviews.
“Thank heavens you got the landlord to sort out the water,” Annelise says deadpan, looking back to her magazine. “And good news, this time he used more than a roll of tape to fix it. I think I even saw a wrench. Remind me when we’re going home?”
Annelise, ever the quick tongue. She fits in perfectly with the French attitude of perpetual dissatisfaction, but she’s also the most loyal kind of friend one can find. After all, she followed me to France despite her reservations (which she doesn’t hesitate to share).
“Why have you got that funny smile?” Laura tilts her head at me.
“What funny smile?”
All the girls come closer. Gina, Annelise, and Laura, as well as the twins Chrissy and Jessica.
Chrissy leans toward me, inspecting me like a horse. “She does have a funny smile on her face. Don't you think so, Jess?”
“Indeed I do, sissy Chrissy.”
Chrissy smacks Jess across the back of her head. “You can’t call me that in Paris, we had a deal!”
“The point is,” Jess turns to me, “you do have a funny look.”
