Chapter 9 #2
Xavier stayed until after ten o’clock, and had to tear himself away when he left.
He kissed her on both cheeks, dangerously close to her mouth, and she didn’t stop him.
The wine had made her mellower and him braver, and he promised to be back in the morning when he left by the back door.
She turned out the lights downstairs, made sure the fire was well contained, and checked on the children on the way to her bedroom.
They were asleep in their own beds with a small light she had left on for them.
And she thought of Xavier as she undressed and put on her nightgown.
It had been a lovely evening for all of them.
Xavier was back the next morning after breakfast with the bicycle he had promised for Elodie, and he taught her to ride it in the driveway.
He was patient and kind to the children, and looked warmly at Sabrina, as she and Luc watched the lesson.
By the end of the morning, Elodie was wobbling down the driveway on her own, shouting victoriously, as they all applauded.
Xavier spent the day with them and drove them back to Biarritz and raced them down the beach.
They built a sand castle, and he glanced at Sabrina admiringly from time to time.
There were kisses in his eyes that she didn’t know how to respond to, and didn’t have to.
Being with the children made her feel like a young mother again.
She had forgotten how good it felt, and it reminded her of Malcolm when their children were small.
He had been a wonderful father, teaching them to swim and ride and play tennis, and all the things he shared with them, as Xavier was now.
“I wanted more children,” he said, lying on the sand next to Sabrina, as they watched them play on their own for a while.
“Brigitte didn’t. She was too busy with her practice, and given the state of our marriage, it didn’t seem like a good idea to me either after a while.
She’s a good doctor, but she’s not very maternal.
I think Victoire went into medicine to please her mother, but she does enjoy it. ”
They were all covered with sand as they went back to Xavier’s car, and he drove them back to the chateau.
He had dinner with them again, and he cooked that time, and they went to the choir mass in the morning.
It was a perfect weekend, and Xavier told Sabrina he was going to Paris the next day, for a job interview with a major construction company in need of a CEO.
A headhunter had set it up. He didn’t think anything would come of it.
The interview was on Tuesday. He thanked Sabrina for a wonderful weekend when he left after dinner on Sunday night.
“I’d forgotten how sweet it is to have children around.
” Elodie had mastered the bike perfectly by then, and Xavier had promised to get Luc a smaller one with training wheels.
“You’re a wonderful mother. Your children are very lucky.
And I’m growing very fond of your two houseguests.
” And of her, but he didn’t say it, and felt he had no right to.
She was mourning a husband, and however broken his marriage, he had a wife.
But he loved being with Sabrina and the two children. It was so simple and so happy.
He didn’t tell her when he’d be back, and she didn’t ask him.
He had a life in Paris she had no part of.
And in reality, she was only his tenant, and reminded herself of that when she was tempted to want more.
The relationship they had was already more than she had a right to expect from him.
She closed the door gently behind him on Sunday night, and went upstairs to check on the children before she went to bed.
It had been an exceptionally lovely weekend, and reminded her of the joys of the past that she missed so much now that her children were grown.
It was comforting to have Elodie and Luc in the house.
It put balm on the wounds Sabrina had come to Arcangues to heal, and brought comfort to Luc and Elodie as well.
—
Xavier drove to Paris so he’d have his car with him for his meetings.
He thought of Sabrina and the children she was fostering, and how sweet the weekend had been with them.
He was in a mellow mood, and had enjoyed the time he spent with them.
He had loved it when Victoire was small.
He missed her terribly after not seeing her for a year.
He hated the time the pandemic had stolen from all of them, the connection with the people one loved.
She had promised to come home for Christmas, but it was almost a year away, and his heart ached thinking about it.
When he got to the uncomfortably small apartment that looked like a storage unit in a warehouse, Brigitte wasn’t there and he was relieved.
He was planning to see her before he left.
He didn’t keep secrets from her, and wanted to tell her about the hotel.
She didn’t come home that night, and he assumed she had stayed at the hospital, as she often did, particularly if she had very ill patients.
In the morning, he went to the interview at the construction company in a suit and tie, and squinted as he looked in the mirror.
He hardly recognized the man who looked back at him, the man who was a CEO and had had a thousand employees, and had run the company seamlessly for twenty years.
He looked the same, only slightly older, but it was odd to see himself in that guise now.
He no longer felt like the same man. He knew his confidence was shaken.
Even if it didn’t show, he could feel it and wondered if others could too.
Something was missing, some special ingredient that allowed you to run a company without questioning your abilities, or how others saw you.
He was tense when he went to the meeting, and felt stiff and out of practice at corporate protocols.
He didn’t really want the job, and knew nothing about the industry.
He felt that his presentation was weak and inadequate.
It wasn’t a match and he sensed that they knew it too.
He had had dozens of meetings like it in the last three years.
They wasted everyone’s time and rattled him.
It was all very civil, and they said they would be in touch, but he knew he had missed the bull’s-eye by a mile.
It never clicked, and he poured himself a glass of red wine when he went back to the apartment.
He had sent a text to Brigitte and said he wanted to see her after work.
He fell asleep afterward and was still dozing on the couch when she got home at five o’clock.
He opened his eyes when he heard the door close and sat up feeling groggy. Brigitte looked at him with disdain when she saw the empty glass next to him, on the battered coffee table that they had bought in a junk shop for that apartment. All their good furniture was in storage.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” she said in a scathing tone.
She knew from the suit, white shirt, and tie that he’d had an interview, and that it probably hadn’t gone well if he was drinking in the middle of the day and had slept all afternoon.
He looked good, but he wasn’t good, and they both knew it. “Bad interview?” she asked coolly.
“It wasn’t a match. A construction company. I know nothing about their business.” And didn’t want to, he didn’t add, but it was true.
“Why go then?”
“I’m leaving no stone unturned. You never know.
” The atmosphere between them depressed them both.
Failure was heavy in the air. Not only his start-up, but their marriage.
“I wanted to see you, because I’m doing a project in Biarritz.
Oddly enough, a construction project on a small scale.
A friend of mine from school is restoring a hotel.
He got it for next to nothing, sold by the bank.
It’s been closed for years. I think he’s going to make a success of it.
I’m going to help him get it off the ground when construction is finished.
I’ve put some of my own money into it, and I wanted you to know.
I haven’t touched the apartment money, which belongs to both of us. ”
“What ‘own’ money? You don’t have any money,” she said with scorn dripping from every word.
“I took a small loan against Bonport, which I’ll pay back when the hotel becomes profitable.”
“It sounds like another fantasy,” she said, and poured herself the remaining glass of red wine from the bottle he had opened. He had drunk most of it. “Haven’t you learned your lesson yet? And now you’re taking loans against the chateau? Is there no limit to your stupidity, Xavier?”
“Isn’t it possible that it might be a success? Is that completely inconceivable?” he asked, sounding desperate.
“Yes, it is inconceivable,” she said harshly. “You’ve lost your touch. You can’t find a job, and your ‘projects’ are going to drive us into the poorhouse. We’re already there. Why don’t you just give up the fantasies, forget being a CEO, and take an ordinary job?”
“As what? A waiter?” he said angrily.
“Why not, if you have to. Swallow your damn pride and get a job like a man.” She tore through his guts again, as she always did.
He felt eviscerated every time he saw her.
“You have five months left to find a job. After that, we sell the chateau, or I divorce you and get half of it. Either way, you’ll have to sell it. ”
“Thank you for your faith in me,” he said. More than angry, he was sad. She battered his soul at every opportunity. Her contempt for him seemed limitless.
“My faith in you ran out with the damn start-up.”
“The pandemic killed it, Brigitte, I didn’t.”
“I don’t really care. It died, and you lost all our money.”
“Thank you for reminding me, every time I see you.”