Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
The air thickened with unspoken tension as Mama sauntered toward us with the grace of a panther stalking its prey. Giant sunglasses obscured half her face, but I could feel her gaze fixed upon us like a heat-seeking missile. Tension swirled around our little group, thick enough to cut with a knife. Even though I had no context whatsoever, I could tell she was not exactly a welcome arrival. I glanced at Remi, hoping for some clue as to how to handle this unexpected appearance, but his face had become an unreadable mask. Whatever was about to unfold, I had a feeling it was going to make our earlier family dinner look like a child’s picnic in comparison.
She came to a stop in front of us, her presence commanding attention. Slowly, without uttering a word, she pulled down her sunglasses. Her eyes, sharp as a hawk's, darted between her three children, then to Remi, before finally landing on me with a gaze so cold it could have frozen the rosé in our glasses. There was a certain icy majesty to her, like a queen surveying her less-than-satisfactory subjects.
After a painfully long, awkward moment that felt like it stretched into eternity, her red lips curved up into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
" Bonjour ," she purred, her voice dripping with sophistication. I was no expert on French accents, but even I could tell hers was as refined as aged cognac.
" Bonjour ," I replied, wincing inwardly at how pedestrian I sounded in comparison.
"Mama," Félicité started, her voice a mixture of incredulity and thinly veiled annoyance. "What are you doing here?"
Mama’s head tilted toward her daughter, her smile morphing into something that looked more like a predator baring its teeth. "Do I need a reason to visit my children?"
Régis snickered, a sound caught between amusement and disbelief. "Actually, a little bit. How did you know we were all here?"
"Oh, just a lucky guess," she said, her tone suggesting it was anything but. She turned back to me, her gaze piercing. "And you must be the famous Elodie, prodigal American granddaughter.”
I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling like a bug under a microscope. "That's me. The one and only."
" Enchantée. I'm the children's mama , Céline." She leaned in and kissed my cheek, her perfume enveloping me in a cloud of expensive floral notes.
"Lovely to meet you as well, Céline," I managed, trying not to choke on the awkwardness of the situation. The reality suddenly sunk in like a stone in my stomach. I wasn’t just Pierre ’s estranged granddaughter—I was her late husband's love child. This just got extremely awkward.
She studied me, her expression wavering between amusement, curiosity, and something that looked unsettlingly like disgust.
"How lovely it is for my children to finally meet their long-lost big sister," she said, her tone suggesting she thought it was anything but lovely.
"Yes, it's been such a wild experience," I offered weakly.
"The big sister none of us ever knew existed. The big sister that Pascal failed to mention,” she continued, her words dripping with barely concealed venom.
So. So. Awkward.
"Are you just here to make everyone feel uncomfortable?" étienne interjected, his patience clearly wearing thin.
Céline swiveled her head toward her eldest son, her expression morphing into a look of sadness so melodramatic it could have won her an Oscar.
"No, I came to meet the newest member of our family. And a little birdie told me all about Pierre 's will. Quite the surprise."
"There it is," Régis muttered, rolling his eyes. Céline flashed him a look that could have withered a vineyard.
“I would have liked to have been there,” she said.
"Only those who were included in the will were permitted to be at the reading,” étienne said.
"It was rather curious that Pierre didn't see fit to provide anything to me,” Céline said.
I shifted uncomfortably, feeling like I'd stepped into a minefield. Should there have been an expectation that her father-in-law would've left her something in the will?
Céline turned toward me, her smile as sharp as a knife. "It's not about the money, mind you. I have plenty of that. My late husband, your father—" she laughed, the sound bordering on maniacal, "—it is rather strange to say that, isn't it? Pascal was a good provider, and when he passed away, I was taken care of."
"And grandpère took care of us," étienne cut in. "I don't really think we need to rehash this right now."
Céline 's icy gaze locked onto me once more. "Tell me, Elodie, what do you plan to do with this place?"
My skin suddenly felt hot, as if I'd stepped too close to a roaring fire. Just when I was making progress with my siblings, it would appear I had a new adversary.
"I'm not entirely sure," I said, clearing my throat and trying to sound more confident than I felt. "We have been fixing it up. Renovating. Painting. It's really starting to shine.”
Céline 's eyes narrowed until I felt like there were tiny ice shards shooting right through me. "This place does have lovely bones. I do hope you'll maintain its integrity."
"I certainly plan on it," I assured her, hoping my voice didn't betray my nervousness.
"Mama. Stop it," étienne said, his tone a clear warning.
She pressed her lips into a thin smile that looked more like a grimace. "Well, enough of just standing around. Aren't you children going to invite your mother in?"
A wicked grin spread across étienne 's face, and I could almost see the lightbulb moment. "I would, mama . But it's not our house."
Céline raised her perfectly sculpted eyebrow in question, then lowered it as understanding sunk in. She turned to me with that bitter smile again.
"Of course. How silly of me. Well, Elodie , I guess the honors fall to you as hostess."
I swallowed that persistent lump in my throat, feeling like I was about to step onto a stage I hadn't rehearsed for.
"Of course!" My voice came out in an embarrassing squeal. I cleared my throat and tried again. "I think we are about due for another glass of wine. Why don't we go out to the back terrace? It's turning into a lovely evening."
I cringed inwardly at how ridiculously formal I sounded as I extended the invitation. Had there not been quite the audience, I might have slapped my forehead like a cartoon character. As we started to walk, I caught a glimmer of Remi's expression. His lips were tugging at the sides, and I could tell he was trying not to laugh. I flashed him a glare that could have curdled milk. Glad somebody thought this was all very amusing.
As our motley crew made its way to the terrace, I couldn't help but feel like I was leading a parade of barely contained family drama. The evening breeze carried the scent of lavender and tension, and I had a sinking feeling that this impromptu family reunion was about to get a whole lot more interesting. And by interesting, I meant potentially disastrous.