Chapter 21
Standing not a meter from where I stood naked and dripping wet was an elderly woman. An elderly woman I had just shouted at. She was wearing low heels, a maroon dress, a string of pearls around her neck, and a look of disdain that blew Beau’s out of the water.
This was it. This was the moment of my death. It must be because I don’t know how someone could keep living when their only wish was to be swallowed immediately by the earth.
Goodbye Laurent, it was fun, but your grandmother thinks I’m a naked, screaming banshee, and now I must leave this world.
Laurent’s grandmother didn’t look shocked, although it’d be much better if she did.
Instead, she simply looked imposing and mildly disapproving, as though jumping out of the shower to scream naked at strangers was a peculiar hobby she hoped I’d soon grow out of.
Looking as though it pained her, she extended a hand.
“I am Madame Roche.” Every word was like ice.
I hadn’t moved a centimeter since I’d seen her, still waiting desperately for the whole swallowed-by-the-earth moment to happen already. Mechanically, I extended a wet hand and grasped her fingers. I dimly wondered if I should kiss her hand, she seemed so much like a queen.
Just then, Beau gave a yowl, and it shook me out of my horrified stupor.
“PleaseexcusemeI’llberightbackIjustneedtogetdressed.”
I fled back to the bathroom.
Once inside, with the door firmly locked, I contemplated the possibility of just staying here forever. It’d be tough, but I could make it work. It certainly beat the idea of venturing back into the outside world.
Why was Laurent’s grandmother even in this cursed shed? And where the hell was Laurent?
I took as long as humanly possible to get dressed and do my hair, but, eventually, I had to open the bathroom door. Madame Roche was standing right where I’d left her. If anything, she looked even more terrifying now.
I switched into work mode, telling myself she was just another stranger to chat to; I did that every day. No need to recall that I’d been stark naked when we’d met, although the puddle of water where I’d been standing was an unhelpful reminder.
“Enchantée, Madame Roche,” I said, all smiles. “My name is Margot Delcour. I’m visiting from Paris with Laurent. How was your journey here?”
Madame Roche regarded me stonily. “How did you meet Laurent?” From her tone, it was clear she was thinking a brothel or worse.
“Laurent moved into the apartment next to mine. We hit it off right away. I could smell him cooking—"
“What do you do for work?” she interrupted, still looking imperious.
“I’m a server at Le Jules Verne in Paris.” I smiled again. My cheeks were beginning to hurt.
Madame Roche sniffed. “Laurent’s last girlfriend was a lawyer. A very successful one.”
Ah. OK then, she’s that type of person.
“That’s wonderful,” I said, forcing another smile. “Both my grandfathers were lawyers, and they loved their work.”
Madame Roche had opened her mouth to ask what I’m sure would be another blunt and borderline-offensive question when the door banged open and Laurent rushed in, looking harried.
“Grand-mère! Now, come on, I know Uncle told you that you’d be staying in the house for this visit. I wanted to be back in my old room.” He looked between us, his face still somewhat frantic. “You’ve already met Margot?”
“Yes,” his grandmother replied icily. “It was illuminating.”
I could tell Laurent was looking at me, but I was too embarrassed to meet his eyes.
As Laurent hustled his grandmother out, she stared at me over her shoulder the entire time, until he firmly shut the door behind her. That done, he leaned against the door and heaved a sigh of relief.
“That’s not the way I wanted you to meet Grand-mère, but at least now it’s out of the way.” He went to hug me, then paused, noticing my expression. “What’s the matter?”
It all came out: Beau, the shouting, the nakedness, the handshake during the nakedness…I’d sunk to the ground with my head in my hands as I told most of the story, and every time I looked at Laurent his expression of concern slipped more and more as he struggled to hold back his laughter.
“This isn’t funny!” I exclaimed. That was what sent Laurent over the edge. I glared at him as he collapsed to the floor, shaking with laughter. I can’t believe I’d let this man half undress me less than an hour ago.
When Laurent finally got ahold of himself, he wiped his eyes, a stray giggle escaping here and there. “Au contraire, that story is objectively hilarious.”
“You don’t think she’ll tell anyone?” I asked worriedly.
“Oh, I’m sure she’s already told everyone,” Laurent said, and he laughed again at my reaction.
“Don’t worry; you were never going to win her over.
I still haven’t won her over, and I’m her grandson.
Grand-mère is just a tough nut to crack.
I should have warned you earlier, but I thought we’d have more time before she arrived. ”
“She appears to be a fan of your ex-girlfriend.” I knew I was treading potentially dangerous ground, but something about being full-frontal with Laurent’s grandmother had turned me reckless.
Laurent rolled his eyes. “Yes, my ex is the granddaughter of one of her old friends. Grand-mère is the one who set us up, actually, and she was the only family member who approved of our relationship. I should have taken it as a sign to run screaming in the opposite direction. Now come on, we don’t want dinner to get cold. ”
There were roughly ten thousand things I’d rather do than face Laurent’s family, but I allowed him to guide me back to the house.
When we stepped inside, I briefly hoped that Laurent’s grandmother hadn’t mentioned anything about The Incident. But then I realized that everyone was being just a little too friendly. And it didn’t help that Noelle was over in the corner, nearly crimson from choking back laughter.
I fled to the kitchen, where Laurent’s mother was finishing up the meal. When she saw me, she didn’t say a word. Instead, she hugged me, holding tight for a moment. It was a small gesture, but so unexpected that tears sprung into my eyes.
“Can I help with plating the food?” I offered, hurriedly blinking my tears away. “I like to keep busy.”
The big dinner would be tomorrow, on Christmas Eve, so today the menu was fairly simple, although everything looked delicious.
There was roast chicken, cod braised with tomatoes and olives, endive salad, and a cheeseboard piled so high I was terrified it’d collapse on me as I brought it to the table.
Laurent’s parents had one of those grandiose dining rooms common in older homes.
Several tables had been pulled together to make a massive table, and chairs seemed to have been brought in from all corners of the house.
That should have meant plenty of opportunities for me not to sit near Grand-mère, but as soon as I took my seat, she chose the seat directly across from mine.
Every time I glanced her way, I found her eyes boring into me.
But dinner was pleasant, overall. I had Laurent on one side, and Michel, one of Laurent’s cousins on the other.
“Who is the craziest diner you’ve ever served?” Michel asked.
That story (which involved a suitcase full of wigs, fake paparazzi, and an attempt at smuggling a Dutch oven full of beef stew out of the restaurant) was enough to get us nearly to dessert.
When I’d finished speaking, I took a sip of wine. “Do you make it up to Paris often?”
Michel shook his head. “I live in Corsica and don’t leave much. The holidays are the only time I can convince myself to get off the island.”
“Oh, I love Corsica. I haven’t been in years, but I remember it being so beautiful. Do you enjoy living there?”
“Yes, very much. Good food, good beaches. We have a beautiful one, Plage de Tahiti. It’s very relaxed. No clothing requirements.” Michel smiled anxiously, and I knew he was trying his best to relate to me. But a nude beach?
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Laurent’s grandmother. For the first time, she was grinning.
Excellent. Now the entire Roche family thinks I’m an out-of-control nudist.
“Why does your grandmother hate me?” I asked Laurent later. The meal had ended and we were hand-in-hand, making the trek across the yard to his shed.
Laurent tucked me under his arm. “That’s just how she treats everyone.
It’s not personal. You should have heard the things she said when Noelle dyed her hair blue back at university.
” Laurent opened the door to his shed-home.
“Come on, let’s focus on the twenty-odd family members who adored you.
Tomorrow, I’ll take you around town, and you won’t need to see Grand-mère until dinner,” Laurent said, closing the door behind us.
“But for now, let’s get back to what we were doing earlier before we were so rudely interrupted.” He pulled me to him, hands slipping under the back of my sweater.
He didn’t need to tell me twice. “Alright. But make double sure you lock the front door.”