Luc #2
“Berries.” She seems surprised by her own answer, her teeth grazing her full bottom lip. I almost want to tell her this isn’t a test, that there are no wrong answers, but something tells me she wouldn’t appreciate that. “Lemon. No, maybe orange?” Her gaze lifts briefly. “Citrus, at any rate.”
“Bon—well done.” But my praise doesn’t seem to sit well with her. Maybe she’s not used to hearing it.
“Taste it! Taste it!” Sylvie chants.
She does. And I watch. And I want. And I hope she doesn’t notice.
“How do you like it?” My voice sounds huskier than it ought to. I clear my throat and shift in my chair. Snatching up my glass, I look anywhere but at her.
“You were right, Sylvie. It’s delicious.”
The pleasure I feel? It’s as though I planted the vines myself, as though I made it with my bare hands, rather than just with my money. The moment passes and Sylvie chatters a little more about her favorite things on the island and the places she’d like to visit while were here.
“I would like to take Andiamo out on the trail.”
“Do you ride, Primrose?”
“Horses and me…” Primrose gives a shiver. “We don’t see eye to eye.”
“We could get you a small one. The stables have many ponies.” Sylvie’s earnest suggestion makes us both chuckle.
“I think Primrose means she doesn’t enjoy horse riding. But we’ll go together later this week, mon chou. And with Felix, of course. If he would like to come.”
My son nods enthusiastically.
“And fishing, Papa. You said you would take us fishing.”
“I remember you told me about that,” Primrose states. “Do you fish from the beach?”
“The ocean. Sylvie likes to take the boat, don’t you?”
“Yes!” She practically bounces in her seat. “Papa’s boat is the best. She’s named Etoile. She is like a shining star in the sky! Did you know boats are all ladies, Primrose?”
“I had heard something along those lines.”
“Captain Robert says it is because boats are unpredictable and so are women.”
“A boat with a captain?” Her brows rise, though I get the impression she is not impressed. “And Captain Robert sounds like a prince.”
“I don’t think so. He’s just the captain,” Sylvie answers earnestly. “But the boat, she is so much fun.”
“As fun as horse riding? And ballet and art class and swimming?” Primrose teases, listing off my daughter’s favored pastimes.
“It is important to try new things,” Sylvie parrots. “Emmy says it is how we discover and develop new skills and talents.”
“Well, I’m sure Emmy is much better placed to know these things.”
“Emmy is very clever,” Sylvie says.
“When will she be back?” Felix asks.
“I’m sure she’ll be with us as soon as she’s able,” I say as Primrose slides a sad-looking smile his way.
I enjoy these fleeting moments, the thawing of her attitude. Her open countenance and her smile, whether directed my way or not. Maybe the climate has relaxed her. Or her near brush with death. Or maybe the American. Fuck, I hope not.
“Are you not a fan of extracurricular activities?” There isn’t an ounce of innuendo in my voice yet still her eyebrows rise. Old habits die hard. For me at least.
She rolls her lips together as though taking a moment to formulate her words. “I think they have their place, and while I’m no expert, I do think children need time to be themselves. They also need time to themselves. A bit of boredom never killed anyone.”
“No one likes being bored,” Felix scoffs.
“You’re not meant to. But it’s good for you to be alone with your thoughts.”
“I’ve already had a lot of time to be a child. All the way back to when I was a baby and all the way forward until I’m eighteen!” Sylvie makes an expansive motion with her arms. “That’s a lot of years.”
“Yes, I suppose it must feel so.”
“And Emmy says many accomplishments will help me get into the best universities.”
“Yes, I’m sure they will.”
“Oh, papa! Maria said I could help her feed the goats after dinner. Can I, please?” She grabs my arm. “There is a new baby, and she said it would be better to meet him when the day cools.”
“I can take you,” Primrose says, putting down her glass. Inexplicably, my heart sinks.
“No need. She said to call her and that she would send Sophia to the house.”
My son sits suddenly straight.
“Papa?”
I give an exasperated shake of my head. “You may go, but only if Maria invited you to.”
“I will use the intercom to call.” My daughter throws this over her shoulder as she scampers out the door.
“I will take her,” Felix says in a sudden and uncharacteristic burst of brotherly love.
I sigh. He’s a terrible actor.
Very soon, the room falls quiet. But not for long as Primrose pushes back her chair.
“Good night, thank you for a pleasant dinner.”
“Of course.”
She almost turns, but not quite. “May I ask you something?”
I notice how her hands tighten on the chair back as I find myself trying to calculate the direction of her question.
What was I doing in Ardeo?
Did I follow her to the basement?
Why did I kiss her back only to push her away? Or, as she sees it, out the door.
“Only if you’ll return the favor.”
Her mouth twists as though she expected my response. And she says nothing else.
My own reaction feels… anti-climactic. It’s for the best. I should let sleeping dogs lie, as the saying goes.
“Deal.”
“What?”
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” she says, looking none too happy about it. “Tell me what I’m really doing here.”
“You’re here for the children.” Originally. Still. At least, that’s what I’ve been trying to convince myself.
“But you already have an army of people to look after them. Maria, Jose, Sophia.” She folds her arms across her chest, and I try to ignore the perfect frame she makes for her breasts.
“They’ve barely needed me because there are people literally everywhere clamoring for their attention, and that’s without their tennis lessons and equestrian undertakings, and sailing. I feel like a spare part.”
She pauses and turns her face away, giving me her profile. My body stirs as I take in the smooth column of her neck. The soft bow of her lips and the elegant slant of her cheekbone. I jolt as his attention swings abruptly back.
“You really weren’t joking about punishing me, were you?”