Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Despite its awkward genesis, the evening was perfect for alfresco dining as we gathered around the large table. The setting sun painted the vineyards and rolling hills in shades of purple and gold, creating a breathtaking backdrop for our tense family tableau.
But not even the sticky tension could dampen the beauty of the moment. Colette had outdone herself, magically whipping together an absolute feast in record time, and I got the impression that she had truly missed having a household of people to fuss over. And for once, she finally sat down to join us.
We popped open a second bottle of wine, quickly followed by a third. It seemed everyone needed to take the edge off, especially étienne. I noticed him refilling his glass more frequently than the rest of us. While I was tempted to follow suit, I restrained myself, aiming to stay in everyone's good graces. My reputation in this newfound family probably couldn't handle a drunken meltdown.
"Well, now that we're all well-fed and slightly lubricated," Céline said, her voice cutting through the clinking of silverware, "there's something I wanted to discuss with you all."
Régis snorted, swirling the wine in his glass. "Of course there is. Silly us to think you came all the way up here to actually see us."
Céline shot her middle child a chilling glare. "Well, I see you so little that when I have something important to say, it appears I have to drive two hours to tell you in person. Silly me for thinking my children would visit their widowed mother more often."
The three siblings exchanged eye rolls while Remi and I tried to hide our amused smiles behind our wine glasses.
"They have this marvelous invention called the telephone," Régis quipped in a fake posh British accent, earning him another death glare from his mother.
Céline fired back a few choice words in French that made even my limited vocabulary blush. Then she straightened up, forcing a smile that looked about as natural on her face as my attempts at speaking French.
"What I wanted to tell you all is that I'm seeing someone."
The table fell silent as all the siblings exchanged wary glances. I could practically hear the gears turning in their heads.
Finally, Félicité broke the silence. "What do you mean, 'seeing'?"
Céline's smile tightened. "As in, I have found myself a lover."
étienne actually spat out his wine—coughing and spluttering in the process. When he regained his composure, he let out a strangled laugh.
"You must be joking. Or you've had far too much wine. Colette, I think Mama is cut off."
Céline narrowed her eyes at her son's poor attempt at humor. "Is it so unreasonable that your dried-up old mother might find companionship?"
"Not unreasonable, no. Just unlikely," étienne said, refilling his glass yet again.
Céline shrugged and sipped her wine with an air of nonchalance. "If you must know, we've been exploring the opportunity for some time, and we have decided that we would like to make it official."
"And what does 'official' mean, Mama?" Régis asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Are you putting a locket on the Pont des Arts ?"
Céline sighed and drained her wine glass. "That's an adorable idea, son, but no. It's a bit more serious than that. Actually, we're getting married."
A collective gasp rippled around the table. Even Remi looked shocked, and he had no stake in this at all. For a moment, the only sound was the chirping of crickets in the nearby vineyard.
étienne broke the silence by slamming his fist on the table, making the plates rattle. "That's absurd!"
Céline raised her eyebrows as much as the Botox would allow. "Why is it absurd? It's my life. I can do whatever I want."
"You're getting married, and we didn't even know you were seeing anyone? What kind of game is this?" étienne rattled off a series of angry French words that I was glad I couldn't understand.
Céline's eyes narrowed, and this time, there was no hint of mirth in them. She looked thoroughly pissed off.
"My life is not a game, son," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "I have spent my entire life living for other people. For your father. For you children. Even for Pierre and his ridiculous expectations. I think, for once in my life, before I die, I'm going to do something exactly how I want to do it. And while I love you all, I don't need your permission."
As I watched this woman stand up to her children, defending her right to happiness, I felt a newfound respect blooming. For the first time since I'd met her, I saw beyond the chilly exterior and designer clothes to the fierce, independent woman underneath. Maybe we had more in common than I'd thought.