Chapter 27 #2
The bidding got up to five thousand euros.
Sabine begged Yves to stop. Six thousand.
The Europeans dropped out, except one artist from the Chateau, a chiseled model: leather pants even though it was late August, leopard fur chunky oxfords, and a satin shirt open to the navel.
But Yves went higher and won the residency. Marlow felt sick.
Sponsoring the bench in Mirabelle Square was next.
Guillaume opened the bidding. Luc stepped into the fray.
Fedir joined in but soon had to drop out because Guillaume popped it up to a new level.
Luc stuck with it. Marlow was horrified—he couldn’t afford to compete with Guillaume—but she could smell the testosterone from where she was standing.
Everyone in the square was watching two men compete for her over a bench.
It would be laughable if it weren’t entirely her fault.
The bidding went up to some astronomical amount.
Then Rémy outbid both men. The bench was hers.
Noah bought a four-course meal offered by Madame Klein.
Delphine was smitten by a painting of Luc’s, and overbid on it by a mile, asking if he would teach at the Chateau and promising to connect him with a gallery owner friend in London who would die for his work.
Pierre auctioned two tickets to the gala reception of Yves’s film at Renegade in October.
Delphine and the vintners bid on it, because Yves brought the glamour to the party.
Even Marlow’s parents bid, despite the fact that he was Sabine’s deadbeat dad.
They wanted to impress others with who they knew and with the depth of their pocketbooks.
Marlow had to laugh, and noticed she was not having a knee-jerk reaction to her parents’ behavior.
Huh. They won the exorbitant tickets and were very pleased with themselves.
The live auction ended with every item sold. Lali helped people pay up while Marlow found an empty chair on the restaurant patio and flagged down her brother.
“You’d better put some food into me, or I might just faint right here,” she said. He put a plate of appetizers in front of her and said, “Eat and don’t move until you’re done.”
She took a breath and looked around, feeling ecstatic about how successfully the fundraiser had gone so far. This must be how Party Patti felt after one of her massive galas for Renegade.
Just as she was about to take a bite of sautéed chanterelles on baguette, Sylvain sat down.
“Bonsoir, bonsoir la belle,” he said. “Et bravo! Quelle fête extraordinaire!” Then he launched into a long-winded one-way conversation, full of gesticulation, about how he had come up with a brilliant idea to buy the épicerie in the square for one euro and turn it into his medical clinic.
Marlow was going to reply that she thought this was a wonderful idea when Sylvain saw Rémy and got up to pitch his grand plan.
With any luck, Lali could be the resident doctor. Just as Marlow lifted her chanterelles on toast to her mouth, Angus, the recent theological graduate, sat down across from her.
“I’m Angus MacPherson,” he said in a thick Scottish accent.
“Hello! Marlow Linden.”
“Yes, I know. You’re quite famous around here. Thank you for having me to your party. I won the fresh eggs for a year from Monsieur Gérard Dubé in the silent auction. Pretty excited, actually.”
“Do you live nearby? Otherwise eggs for a year seems like a bit of a commitment.”
“Well, about that. I’m quite taken with your village and all that you’re doing here, revitalizing the community.”
“Thank you,” said Marlow, smiling. “I’m quite taken with it too, actually.”
“I live in Glasgow at the moment—so you’re right, if I stay there, eggs for a year would indeed be quite the commitment.
But I was wondering, do you know if the little church is also part of the program?
I’m a new minister with no prospects so far, so perhaps this …
” He looked wistfully at the little church. “This might be my calling.”
“I don’t know if the church is available for one euro,” Marlow said, “but I don’t see why it couldn’t be. You should ask Rémy, the local civil servant. Shall I introduce you?”
“Oh Rémy, we’ve met,” he said, “thank you. And perhaps I will see you again, sooner than later?”
“Perhaps,” said Marlow.
Angus headed back in Rémy’s direction, which didn’t seem to displease her one bit.
Marlow lifted the food to her mouth once more, and sure enough, she was approached by three more people in a row: one, a Chateau Beaupré sous-chef who wanted to open a boulangerie in the square, a person who worked with Pierre at Voyages Celeste who wanted to reopen the bicycle rental shop, and a vintner colleague of Guillaume’s who thought that perhaps Mirabelle needed a wine store.
When more people started approaching, Noah put his foot down, and insisted his sister get ten minutes to herself.
“You’re a victim of your own success,” he told her. “Eat. Fast!”
She wolfed down the appetizers he’d passed her and instantly felt better. But just as she was ready to rejoin the fray, Rémy approached with two glasses of wine, one for herself and one for Marlow.
“Your little soirée is a success,” she said, toasting Marlow.
“Thank you,” said Marlow. They sat there in silence for a moment, eyeing the revelers. “And the appeal tomorrow—any idea which way it will go?”
“Eh bien oui. I know everything that goes on here.” And with that, she headed back to pick up her conversation with heavenly Angus. Poor guy, thought Marlow.
The business of the fundraiser was over, and Pierre was playing gentle music on his guitar.
Aubin approached Sabine. “Can I have this dance?”
“It’s not really danceable, is it?” she said, reluctant.
So he went to the musicians from Chateau Beaupré. A few ran down the stairs to the Nenier parking lot and reappeared with synthesizers and an electronic drum kit. They plugged into the sound system and took the energy level into the stratosphere.
Aubin returned to Sabine, stretched out his arm and pulled her under the disco ball.
“But I’m a terrible dancer! You know that!”
“This is your prom, which means you have to dance.”
So Sabine danced in her dreamy blue dress. Then the band called up Aubin, and he joined them, plugging in his phone to pipe his music through the speakers, which wowed everyone. She walked over to Guillaume, who marveled at what he was seeing.
“I know Aubin’s supposed to take over the winery,” she said. “But if he could explore his music, too, that would be so good. Otherwise, a part of him will die a bit. And he might resent that he never got to do it.”
“I will talk to his mother,” said Guillaume, who watched his nephew dazzle the crowd. Sabine could see he was a little dazzled himself. “I had no idea he could do any of that,” he said in wonder.
The music changed to a slower beat. Aubin pulled her back under the mirror ball. They danced, bodies close, amid the other kids from his lycée. It really did feel like prom. She wanted to remember every moment of this night.
Guillaume and Marlow danced, too. “You did a remarkable job,” he said.
“It wasn’t just me; it was everyone.”
“I go to the US next week. You don’t know if you’ll be here or in Canada.”
“Not until tomorrow, no,” said Marlow. “There’s so much up in the air, I can’t keep it straight. The house appeal, the job I’m up for at Renegade, the possible job at Cannes, entirely thanks to you, what’s happening with Sabine …”
“And Yves’ film will be in Toronto in October. How do you feel about that?”
“I mean, I might not even be working there. He’ll do the industry summit next week, and there’s the festival in October. I can’t control where he goes, or if he sees Sabine. That’s already happened, and the world didn’t fall apart.”
“True,” he said, one hand on the small of her back, one cradling her hand. So confident. So solid. “Remember I suggested you work at Maison Fortin? I will be travelling more, and to know you were supervising things … We would make an amazing partnership, in more ways than one.”
A solution to all her problems. And a romantic overture in there, too. “That is an incredible offer,” she said, “and so tempting. It would be a situationship, as Sabine and her friends call it?”
He nodded. “That is good for us both, yes? It’s only natural. This may be a new word the youth use, but it is often that way in Europe. For me, it has always been the way, with different partners, from time to time, as it suits both of us.”
He pulled her closer. The smell of his cologne, just enough for only the person closest to him, was intoxicating. But she could feel Luc eyeing them, and she could not seem to give Guillaume the yes he wanted.
The end of the night arrived. Luc stepped up to the mic, thanked everyone for supporting Mirabelle, and said that when Marlow first arrived, he didn’t think she belonged, but now it was so clear that she did. They would miss her if she weren’t able to stay.
“Vive Madame le maire de Mirabelle!” cried Madame Belleville.
“Vive Madame le maire de Mirabelle!” echoed everyone else, giving her a round of applause. Marlow beamed. Her father, proud, stepped forward out of the crowd and took a photo of his daughter on his cell phone. Marlow thought she might lose it right there.
It was like something out of a storybook … except Rémy was clearly unhappy about the change in power dynamics. But no daggers from her could ruin this moment.
“à demain,” said Rémy, turning her back on Marlow and heading down the stairs.
“à demain,” said Marlow, and she had to wonder exactly what it was that frosty Rémy had in store for her at the appeal meeting the next day.