Chapter 23
Iadjust the dial on the radio in Madeline’s car; the playlist I created for our road trips always hits. The chorus comes on, and Madeline and I both scream it out at the top of our lungs as she drives us on our quest to find clay roses. After I showed Madeline what I was looking for, she volunteered to help me find it. The sweet, na?ve friend she is. Too bad neither of us realized these things are like finding the golden ticket for Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.
“Can you believe they just laughed at me,” I recount the whole mountain lion story to Madeline as I turn the dial back down. She laughs as she pulls into a parking space for Magasin d’antiquité, the local antique store.
“Well, I mean, it is kind of funny.” Madeline laughs, making me gasp at the utter betrayal as I trail behind her into the store.
“I don’t know if we can be friends anymore.” I stop walking and cross my arms over my chest.
“Oh come on, Aurora.” Madeline smiles and grabs me by the arm. “You have multiple hot guys working on your chateau, you could sell tickets, and women would come out in droves.”
“Sure.” I roll my eyes. “But that doesn’t help the problem that one hot guy in particular is trying his hardest to kick me out.”
I have high expectations for this place, as I see knickknacks spilling out onto the front parking lot. “Are you sure this place is even a contender for a clay rose? They are like golden goose eggs,” I say, eyeing the half-broken bedposts. It screams junk hole, with bathtubs with significant chips in them and windows missing more glass leaning up against the front of the building.
“I have a good feeling about this place.” The bell on the door dings as Madeline pushes it open.
“Bonjour,” a feminine voice greets, but surrounded by piles and piles of clutter, I can’t make out where the voice is coming from. We return the greeting anyway.
“There is nothing I don’t find when I walk into Isobel’s shop,” Madeline assures me as she leads me farther into the store, past the giant chests and wardrobes. Piles of mismatched plates, chipped glasses, and antique sewing machines fill every nook and open space. But it’s the boxes of sixty-year-old magazines that catch my eye, neatly stacked next to a set of mismatched chairs.
Could I make something with these? I bend down and grabbed a handful of old magazines, even if I can’t make something for the chateau, I can use these in one of my paintings.
“Oooh.” I gasp when something grabs my attention. An ornate stand-alone bookcase with carvings of butterflies, fleurs de les, and musical notes on the sides and lip of the shelf.
“What is it?” Madeline asks as she turns around to see what I’m staring at.
“I think I need this. No, I know I need this.” I’m not sure where I’m going to put it, but I don’t care. Even if I have to get André to make a whole new wall in the chateau to place it, I will do it. I’ve never seen a more beautiful bookshelf in my life.
“Isobel,” Madeline calls as a woman in her early thirties pops up from two large wooden grandfather clocks. The woman walks gracefully toward us. She has a streak of gray in her auburn hair, a pair of spectacles perched on the tip of her nose, a thin, frayed, woolen jacket wrapped around her shoulders, and a pair of simple blue jeans.
“What can I do for you, Madeline?” Isobel asks, her voice as husky as corn skin. She has a thicker set frame, and her dark red locks are pinned back from her face.
“How much for the bookcase?” Madeline asks.
“A hundred euros,” Isobel replies.
“Sold.” I don’t even register the price Isobel quoted, or even bother to haggle like Madeline had instructed. In fact, the idea of haggling went out the window the moment I’d laid eyes on the bookcase.
“Aurora,” Madeline chides.
“What?” I look over at my friend.
Madeline gives a fake cough. “Don’t forget,” she reminds me.
“Oh yeah.” I blink and look at Isobel. “Is cash okay?” I ask, ignoring my friend’s cue to ask for a cheaper price, and Madeline rolls her eyes at me.
Isobel clasped her hands together. “Is that all?” she asked, looking between us.
“Do you have any ceiling roses or chandeliers?” I inquire, crossing my fingers behind my back, hoping Madeline is right.
“You are just in luck, Chateau Saint Honneur was torn down two weeks ago, and the builder sent all the contents here,” Isobel mentions as she walks farther into the store with Madeline and me following closely behind into a room equally as cluttered as the two other rooms. A bubble of excitement settles in my stomach at the thought of a whole chateau’s worth of furniture, portraits, and various other bric-a-brac just lying here.
“How could someone tear down a chateau,” I whisper out of the corner of my mouth. I didn’t expect to feel so sad, but having grown so close to my own chateau, I couldn’t imagine tearing one down.
“A chateau is a lot of work, Aurora, and many people aren’t willing or able to keep up with the costs,” Madeline replies. I nod in agreement. She’s right—it is a lot of work. I’m also really lucky I have André and Henry, who are willing to help me along the way.
“This room has most of the stuff from Chateau Saint Honneur. I have more of the bigger pieces outside.” Isobel stands in the doorway, almost as if she’s too afraid to enter the room, the clutter too much even for her.
“Thanks, we will call you if we find anything,” Madeline dismisses Isobel.
“The rose and chandeliers are in the back somewhere,” Isobel says before leaving us alone.
“Where do we start?” Madeline questions, completely overwhelmed by the amount of stuff.
“Oh, I needed one of these.” I pull out a curtain rod from between a pile of old discarded curtains.
“You needed a curtain rod?” Madeline questions, looking at me with one eyebrow quirked.
“Ummm, yeah, and I just love how it has acorns engraved on the ends.” I hold up the wooden rod like a trophy, before handing the rod to Madeline and continuing to rummage through the room looking for odds and ends.
“What person doesn’t need a curtain rod,” Madeline replies sarcastically as she looks over the wooden rod. “I don’t think there will be enough room in my car to fit all this,” Madeline breathes out, her hand weighed down with all the things I intend to purchase.
“You’re right,” I agree as I put another rug on top of the pile Madeline is holding. “Let me just have a quick look at the chandeliers and the ceiling rose and I’m done.” I’m not really done; I have another driving lesson tomorrow, and I know just where Luc is going to take me.
A chandelier resting against a wall catches my attention, the three-tiered, old-fashioned, clear crystal lines, accented with blue cut-glass tear drops, would look great hanging from the sitting room. I try to pick up the chandelier from the top handle.
“Uh,” I groan as I use all my weight to lift the chandelier off the ground, only to find I can’t even budge it from its slightly bent position. I rest a hand on my hip, the other on my chin, as I try to figure out how I can get it to budge from the hole it’s making in Isobel’s carpet. “I’ve got it.” I snap my fingers, before pulling out my phone and clicking on André’s contact.
He answers on the second ring. “Aurora.”
“André, you remember how you owe me that favor?”
“This could be entering dangerous territory…” André trails off.
“Points to you for being dramatic.” I bark out a laugh.
“Aurora, the last time you told me I owed you a favor, I ended up…” André gives a shudder. “I try not to remember that day.”
“Oh please, this is nothing like that.”
“Why can’t Luc do it?”
“Not happening,” I hear the faint yell of Luc through the line.
“I just need you to come by and pick up a giant chandelier and hang it.”
“Come by where?” André questions.
“Magazin d’antiquité,” I repeat. “I’ll have Isobel put everything aside for you. Thank you, André.” I don’t wait to hear André’s protest, instead hanging up the phone and effectively closing the discussion.
The afternoon sun was golden in hue, making the cab of my car steaming hot, even with the cool air blowing. Luc has finally allowed me to take solo drives on my own—granted, the farthest I can go is to see Madeline at the council office and straight back. But still, small wins. I turn up the fans on the air conditioner, trying to circulate the stuffy air. My hands are so sweaty I have to keep wiping them on my pants, absorbing the sweat so I don’t white-knuckle the steering wheel to keep my grip. Summer is much hotter than I expected, not that I’m complaining, I love the heat, but the humidity was a real pain in the ass. I shudder at the slurping sounds of my sweat-soaked back peeling off the leather seat where it had become stuck during the drive. I’m going to have to wipe the seat down so Luc doesn’t find the me-shaped print on his car seat.
“Maybe winter wasn’t so bad,” I joke, admiring the chateau in the distance as I pull into the turnoff for the chateau. With the radio turned up to full volume, I bop along to the latest summer hit. “Oh shit,” I call, swerving a few times and almost hitting the parked vans of a few of the workmen. I hope Luc didn’t see that. He’s going to totally revoke my driving privileges. I manage to squeeze Luc’s car between a thick brick wall in front of my studio—I have a lot to unload. I turn the car off and open the door, only to realize that I have squeezed the car in too tight of a spot and I can’t get out.
“Oh fuck,” I mutter, a pebble knots in my stomach. How on earth am I going to get out?
“Stuck there, Impératrice?”
The pebble turns into a boulder. Fuck, the way his voice makes my inside puddle. I bite my lip. My eyes flick up to the rearview mirror to see a very grumpy-looking Luc with his arms crossed over his chest, eyebrows raised, and a smug grin on his lips. Well crap on a cracker. I can’t ask him for help—Luc is looking for an excuse to give me more driving lessons.
“Ummm, no,” I reply, hoping he will take my answer and walk away.
“Then please come out, we need to talk about why I found my side mirror on the ground.”
He holds up a brown mirror high enough so I can see it in the rearview mirror. I gasp and look at where the side mirror should be on the passenger side door—low and behold, it is missing.
Fuck.
“Well at least I was on chateau property.” The tips of my ears turn red. The only thing worse than having a small accident, is having said small accident in front of Luc. I’m hoping this doesn’t mean I have to start more mandatory driving lessons again.
“Oh, Impératrice, we know. We saw you sideswipe André’s van.”
I slump back in the chair. Double fuck.
Then I hear, “André, get the duct tape and bring my helmet.”
André, the BFF that he is, has been making constant trips back to Isobel’s store and picking up everything I want because Luc won’t let me take his car after I accidentally rehomed the side mirror.
“That came out nice,” I admire the redone rear light on his van. André levels me with a glare. I’m sure he intends for me to shake in my boots, but I’ve seen it too many times to be affected by it anymore.
“A few months ago, my car was the equivalent of brand new, now its spent so much time at the repair shop they have given me a frequent customer card.” André rests a thumb and forefinger on his nose and blows out a tight breath. “If I get one more thing repaired, I get twenty percent off.” He pulls the card from his wallet.
“How considerate of them. See, customer loyalty isn’t dead.” I take a look at the card, seeing all the little dots with stamps on them.
“This is not something to be excited over.” With jerky movements, he puts his wallet away.
I shrug. “Don’t be mad at me. According to my driving instructor, I’m much improved.”
“I said you have a lot to improve on.” Luc materializes next to me.
“And she wants to drive.” André tuts. Pulling open the trunk, he reveals all the goodies I had Isobel put aside.
“Hey, don’t blame me. Luc’s the one who said your car was a better “learning car,” whatever that means.” I grab the broken cardboard box filled with old newspapers. I have plans for these babies, and they involve a feature wall in one of the bedrooms.
“Until you can explain to me how you managed to pop all four of my tires while driving on the road, you are banned from driving my car,” Luc whispers, making his hot breath tickle the nape of my neck. He grabs a random box from the van, sending a shiver down my spine. “What the fuck do we need this for?” he says, peering into the box. I stand on my tippy toes and peer inside the box to see exactly what he is referring to.
“I have no idea, but when I saw the box sitting in the corner. It called to me.”
Luc grabs a broken piece of rusted metal. “This called to you?” He stares at me like a second head just sprouted between my neck and shoulders.
“In a manner of speaking.” I shrug my shoulders. “Yes.”
“André,” Luc growls.
“Not getting involved.” André shakes his head.
“Why didn’t you just forget to pick this box up.” He shakes it, causing it to jingle and clink as the rusted pieces of metal inside bounce around.
“Are you joking, she would have been like, ‘You forgot a box, where is that other box, I ordered five boxes,’” André mocks me. “Or worse, she will take my car keys and drive there herself.” Both Luc and André shudder, and I remind myself to punch them when they aren’t looking.
“That’s not fair, clearly André is always going to be team Aurora.” Luc pouts. FREAKING pouts.
“I didn’t realize we picked teams.” I sniff. “In that case. I want Henry. He yells at Luc a lot and I secretly laugh.”
Luc’s cheeks turn pink, recalling the time Henry gave Luc a ten-minute lecture on the proper way to treat a lady after the whole mountain Lion incident. “I was just trying to be helpful,” he mumbles out the corner of his mouth. “Tomorrow Pierre is coming, he will even the score.”
“Riiight.” I nod, knowing full well that Pierre is already wrapped around my finger. Luc just doesn’t know it yet.