Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
On the flight home, Sabine’s grandparents were in first class, her uncle Noah was sitting at the back, chatting with the flight attendants, and she and her mum were squished in the middle.
They ate Madame Belleville’s lunch and an entire box of Petits écoliers and watched an old French farce called Gazon Maudit—in English, French Twist, which made Marlow laugh so hard she cried.
It had been her high school French teacher who’d gotten her into French films, showing them in class so they could practice their comprehension.
Marlow had gone on to watch as many as she could.
Ultimately, it had led her to film school.
Gazon Maudit was about a couple in France, Loli and Laurent, who had a very imperfect marriage, given Laurent had affairs.
A minibus broke down near their house and the driver, Marie-Jo, a lesbian, got help from Loli and Laurent, and struck up an affair with Loli.
Laurent was unhappy about it, but when his affairs were uncovered, he was forced to permit the tryst. Complications of the romantic triangle variety ensued.
After it was over, they got their meal. The airline provided wooden utensils instead of plastic ones, which thrilled Sabine. There was hope in the world.
“So what are you going to do?” Sabine asked.
“About what?”
“Your French twist.”
“No idea.”
“Do you like one guy more than the other?”
“Hm.”
“Do you want to go back to France?”
“Um …”
“Do you want Oscar’s job?”
“Don’t know about that either.”
“Then let’s watch another movie, Mum. Plus, we can buy snack-size Pringles for $4.99.”
“Let’s throw caution to the wind and get two.”
The next morning, Marlow saw Violet in the garden between her house and Marlow’s apartment, and they caught up over coffee.
Violet had more dating escapades to describe in vivid detail, and Marlow was happy to listen.
Violet of course wanted to know all the details of Marlow’s summer away, but it was too much to cover in one go, and Marlow had to get to Renegade. Violet reluctantly took the rain check.
Marlow got to the festival office early.
On the elevator, she checked email. Estelle, the woman from Cannes, had offered her the industry office job.
They hoped she’d continue to work on her French, as it was an asset in the job, and she’d need training on how the organization worked.
The festival ran every May, but they hoped Marlow could begin as early as October.
The same month as the Renegade Film Festival. Marlow was in shock.
She stepped off the elevator. Akiko practically jumped on her. “We missed you! And girl, you owe us big time, because while you’ve been gone, Oscar’s been assigning everyone his workload, and I’m sick of it. So I’ll be accepting free lunches from now until October.”
“It’s before nine. What are you even doing here?”
“I know, right? See, a person can change.”
“One free lunch,” said Marlow. “Because I was doing his workload in France, too. Whatever Oscar told you to get you to do his stuff is on him. Believing it is on you.”
Marlow headed to her desk and found Gustavo in her chair. He gave her a giant hug.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked. “You’re supposed to be in Hollywood.”
“The film fell apart. They fired the director—he was an asshole—and then they lost their financing, and the company went under, and now I’m here, right back where I started.”
“I’m so sorry. Did you get your old job back?”
“Nope. Renegade had already rehired.”
“What about your apartment?”
“I let it go,” he said. “I’m sleeping on my sister’s couch. Oscar gave me a contract to help with the September Summit, but once that’s over this week, I’m not sure what I’m going to do. Something will work out, I think. I hope.”
“Did you save any money in LA? Do you have something to live on?”
“Nope, not a dime. But whatever. I’m making a short with Renegade equipment after work. I met some producers in Hollywood, and they want to see my next project, so who knows.”
“Bienvenue, Marlow!” said Oscar from his office. “Come say bonjour!”
“Think good thoughts,” she said to Akiko and Gustavo.
“How is it to be home?” asked Oscar, chipper and condescending all at once. Before Marlow could answer, he barreled on. “I’m sure you’re glad to be back, put this summit to bed, and get ready for the festival. Everyone’s done a great job covering for you, so thank them when you have a chance.”
Marlow wanted to kill him. Throttle him as slowly and as painfully as possible.
“I’ve reserved the conference room so we can get you up to speed.
Akiko, Gustavo, the rest of the team will join.
But first I wanted to see how you’re feeling about Renegade.
I’d like to offer you my old job, despite my concerns.
But not if you’re only half here. I’ve dealt with that version of Marlow Linden all summer, and it’s no fun. ”
Mirabelle magpies needed no monthly nut to pay for overpriced coach-house apartments, undergrad tuition, and retirement twenty-five years away.
They had no overhead except the wide-open sky.
Did they migrate? They were big birds, part of the crow family.
Maybe they overwintered in Haute-Marne. Or flew somewhere hot.
Point was, they could go where they wanted.
They had the choice, and they exercised it.
She instinctively glanced to her left, the way she did at her desk at Guillaume’s, to look at the vineyards.
But Oscar didn’t have a window. She stared at the wall.
“Earth to Marlow.”
“Yes?”
“The job will be lots of overtime, weekends. Hustle, hustle, hustle. I’m assuming you want it.”
Did she? She could take the job in Cannes.
It would be better than working for this guy, though there were no guarantees.
But here … here she’d be walking right into the same job she’d had before France—in fact, she’d be the manager of that job.
Yes, with full-time wages and benefits, but still administering other people’s fine art. This windowless office would be hers.
How much wood would a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck could chuck wood?
She stood up. “Thank you for the job offer, but you should give it to Gustavo. He’s smart, he knows how the department works, he can talk to filmmakers because he is one, you like him—I mean, who doesn’t like Gustavo—and he needs it.
I guess I’m resigning. No, I am resigning. Good luck with it all.”
She headed straight for the elevator. She didn’t even really need to stop by her desk.
“What the fuck, Marlow!” Oscar yelled after her. Akiko, Gustavo, everyone else looked up. Marlow waved goodbye, and on second thought, took the stairs.
It didn’t take long to visit Helen in HR, who offered to send Marlow paperwork by email.
As Marlow headed out, she ran into Yves, looking smart and filmmakery, his worn leather satchel over his shoulder. He’d flown in the night before on a different airline and was there to sign a contract for the September Summit.
“Did you have other business in Toronto? The summit’s not until Friday,” she said.
“Meetings. This film that’s been greenlit has Canadian money, which means we’re doing postproduction in Toronto. I’ll be here for five months after we shoot.”
“Good, good,” she said, stomach doing a few flips.
“I will respect your privacy, but I wanted to ask your permission to reach out to Sabine. Only if she wants me to. It was my privilege to get to know her this summer, and I want to be there more for her if that’s OK. You have raised a spectacular daughter.”
“Yes, you can see her,” said Marlow, surprising herself. “But let her take the lead.”
Yves’s eyes met hers. Those gentle, deep, sensitive eyes.
“Thank you.” He looked at the ground as if trying to find more words.
“I am sorry I didn’t give us a chance. Me and Sabine …
but me and you, too. Maybe it’s too late for us, but if any part of you thinks there’s even the slightest chance, I’d work very, very hard to make it work. ”
Marlow could not believe it. She’d hated Yves from afar for so long, and this summer had brought him back into her life and Sabine’s.
Strangely, she wasn’t upset in this moment.
In fact, she might even say there was chemistry between them.
There had for sure been chemistry in the heady first weeks of their relationship, but now it was different.
She couldn’t quite tell what it was, to be honest. It seemed eighteen years had made him sexier, rather than the reverse.
She hoped she’d aged as well as he had. Nevertheless, this was a bad idea, and she knew it.
“Thank you for saying those things,” she said, “but don’t hold your breath.” He eyed her, and she smiled. Amazingly, she felt released from feeling bad about him.
“See you at the summit,” he said.
She didn’t mention she’d just quit. He’d find out soon enough.
She unlocked her bike and considered ordering sushi—celebrating freedom from Oscar and a job that wasn’t a fit anymore, hopefully getting Gustavo a job, and not biting off Yves’s head for wanting to be a better father to her kid—but she figured she’d better not.
Things were going to be tight for a while.
Willa and Max were over, listening to every detail of Sabine’s time away and looking longingly at the furled maps of France she’d brought back from Maison Perdue.
“I cannot believe you held all that back from me,” said Willa. “What’re cell phones for?”
“I liked being out of touch. Hasn’t it made my story today better?”
“She has a point,” said Max.
“Don’t side with her,” said Willa. “She deprived me of a ton of gossip this summer.”
“I wasn’t enough to keep you occupied?” said Max.
“You totally were.” Willa turned to Sabine. “They were so good to me; you wouldn’t believe it. They took me here. They took me there. They wined me. They dined me. It’s been the most incredible summer. Maybe not, you know, France incredible—”
“Hey!” said Max.