Chapter Nine
By breakfast the following morning, I was feeling much better. I apologized to both Apolline and Benoit again, and then managed to avoid them for most of the rest of the day.
I walked around the little town, seeing parts that looked familiar from when we arrived and wandering off to different places. Paquin was always telling me that the key to finding good stories was to never stop looking with fresh eyes. Being in a new place made this incredibly fun.
Cabourg was nothing like Paris. Newer, except for the very old parts.
Shorter in stature. And not nearly as diverse.
But for a bourgeois family, it seemingly had everything required for a fun vacation.
Boat rides, plenty of sand and water, live entertainment, attractions.
I bought a choux bun at a patisserie and spoke to the owner about the new casino opening.
I poked around in the bookstore and found a volume of local history.
Then I went back to the hotel and sat at one of the tables on the promenade and read about how the small seaside village with medieval churches and inns had transformed into a vacation destination.
And then I went upstairs to flesh out a few story ideas in my notebook.
After a day of difficult travel and a day of the worst sickness imaginable, spending time exploring and thinking made me feel alive.
I wrote to Madame Tremblay about my illness and thankfully swift recovery.
I hadn’t had time to miss home yet, but that night when I was getting dressed for the casino opening, I missed having Nadine’s help.
I’d worn my most professional evening wear option the first night in town.
Instead of repeating it already, I decided to wear one of the dresses Nadine had given me.
It made more of a statement, like everything associated with Nadine.
The garment was plainly and elegantly cut with a low scoop at the neck and narrow skirt.
But the color was the same fiery pink as a radish.
Quite the opposite of my gray standards.
Without Nadine to tell me how lovely I looked and bolster my self-esteem, I questioned my choice a thousand times. Then I was still fixing my hair when Apolline knocked on my door. I told her to go ahead without me. I’d meet them there. I was, once again, off kilter.
Benoit and Apolline were at the bar when I walked in the casino twenty minutes later. The gentleman they were with was sharply dressed in the same blue and gold as the decor; he had to be the owner. He was talking and gesturing around the room with the grandness of a proprietor.
As soon as I started toward them, Benoit’s gaze came to rest on me.
Something in his face changed then. His eyes darkened and smoldered as they swept me from head to toe.
The dress! I didn’t falter; the appreciation on his face emboldened me.
If he was doing this to throw me off balance, then I would play right back.
But it was getting harder and harder to tell if this was a game or something else.
Because the pleasure I felt at drawing his eye had ignited my whole body.
“Ah, you made it,” Apolline said. She introduced me to the casino owner, Monsieur Lefeuvre, who smiled and kissed my hand. His wandering eyes suggested he also appreciated my dress.
Benoit, in turn, greeted me with la bise.
This was a casual greeting that people often exchanged, even in professional settings; Paquin had greeted me similarly.
But this time, when Benoit greeted me with kisses, it was charged with something else.
A frisson of energy sparked when his lips brushed my cheek.
When he pulled away, Apolline was watching us with a curious expression on her face.
Not unhappy, and not surprised either. Curious.
Before the pause of my entrance stretched any further, I asked if Monsieur Lefeuvre was pleased with the turnout so far.
“I am quite pleased!” He raised his hands to indicate the crowd around us. With a full house, the opening was a success.
As planned, we split up to get everything we needed.
While Benoit was interviewing Monsieur Lefeuvre and getting the view behind the scenes, I would be talking to patrons on the floor.
Apolline, who’d brought her sketchbook, would be here and there throughout the night. Thank goodness, we all got to work.
Le Diamont Casino had been conceived and built with every detail designed to encourage patrons to continue playing and, ultimately, lose money to the house.
The seats were comfortable. The games lively.
The drinks were free as long as you were placing bets.
The room was full. Perhaps more people were milling about and taking it all in than there were at the gaming tables.
But that would likely change as the night wore on.
One thing was for sure, I didn’t have any trouble getting the gentlemen on the floor to talk to me. The dress again! I’d never worn it in a professional situation before. I would have to remember to thank Nadine.
I spoke to a group of students from Paris who’d come up for the weekend.
And I spoke to an actress I knew from the city and her new aristocrat gentleman friend—patron, she’d said when introducing me to him.
Some local government officials were there and pleased to share their views with the readers of L’Entreprise . I filled a notebook in about two hours.
The casino had paid the paper for advertising and our coverage, which was common practice for all the newspapers.
Amongst all the news that people often didn’t want us to print, there were stories like these where interested parties paid for the exposure.
Some papers even went so far as blackmailing interested parties—politicians, businesses, private citizens from prominent families (and by prominent I mean rich)—when scandal struck.
Pay us or we print the story. L’Entreprise didn’t do so much of this, at least not in my experience.
It remained to be seen how much L’Etoile did.
And there never seemed to be a shortage of advertisers willing to pay to reach our readers.
When I was sure I had everything I needed, I found Benoit at the bar with the casino owner.
“We were just wrapping up,” Monsieur Lefeuvre said. “I hope your evening was enjoyable?”
“It was, merci. I have plenty of material for a compelling story.”
“Good. Let me buy you two dinner.” Monsieur Lefeuvre puffed up magnanimously. “I regret I can’t join you because I’m meeting with my manager in a few minutes.”
“Is Apolline still here?”
“No. She went back to the hotel as soon as she finished with her sketches.” Benoit watched me expectantly. “Will you have dinner with me?”
“I’m starving,” I said.
“Good.” Monsieur Lefeuvre led us past the gaming floor to a dining room that sat off to the side of the bar.
He thanked us and told us to enjoy ourselves.
Then a host sat us at a small table against the wall.
Away from the games, it was far more subdued than the rest of the place.
A pianist played on a small stage. There was an electric chandelier on the ceiling and a lush orange rose in a vase on the table.
The atmosphere was anything but professional, crossing into romantic territory for sure.
After we were seated, the host promised that a server would be along shortly and departed.
“You look stunning in that dress, Vanessa.” Benoit leaned over the table as he spoke, his eyes catching and holding mine. “I’ve been wanting to tell you that all night. That color. It’s absolutely ravishing on you.”
I blushed at his effusiveness, the intensity of his gaze. “Stop. We’re working.”
“I’m just making an observation,” he said innocently. “I am an observant fellow.”
“Aren’t you.”
The server arrived with a bottle of champagne, eager to tell us all about the dishes.
We both ordered chicken and roast vegetables.
Then when we were alone, Benoit told me about his evening with the casino owner, who had inherited the money he used to start the business.
And I told him about the students who’d come from Paris and lost all their money.
The conversation was strictly professional, but I felt anything but.
I tried to suppress it, but the way he sat and his gestures and the smooth sound of his voice aroused more than my mind.
The more we talked, and the more wine we drank, the more I thought about the way he’d looked at my mouth the other night.
The way he looked like he wanted to kiss me. And the way I kind of wanted him to.
The server brought dinner, and we ate for a while. The food was delicious, casual fare served simply. I didn’t usually write about restaurants, but I could easily put something together about this place to go with our larger dispatches.
When Benoit filled his champagne flute, he topped mine off as well. “Have you been to the beach before?”
“Oui. I was nine. My father took me to Nice. And we didn’t stay in so nice a place. But we were right by the water.”
“Do you swim, then?”
“I do. They taught us at the orphanage as well. But I don’t have a bathing suit.” I’d seen some in a shop window earlier that day. “What about you? Do you swim?”
“Of course, I swim. I was in the military.”
“Oh, that’s right. I suppose they require that in their training. So you have a bathing suit then?”
“I never go anywhere without it.” He said it like this should be obvious. Perhaps at the beach it should have been.
“You know, maybe I should buy one.” The store’s display had been tempting. Or maybe the champagne was getting to me.
“Since we’re supposed to be working?” He sipped his wine.
“Yes. Working.”
“You keep saying that. But the lines blur on assignment.”
“Oh, really.”
“Yes. Everything becomes research.” He leaned in as he spoke.