Chapter 12
The following Friday dawned fair and clear. Gabrielle turned from the small bedroom window in her dear little apartment to admire her chic new outfit in the mirror Annette had purchased to replace what Malcom had destroyed. Annette had also chosen the perfect dress for her to wear for Andrew’s opening day. No one could ask for a better sister. Tilting her head to one side, she lifted the chiffon skirt and let it swish back into place around her legs.
It was a rich, cherry-red mini dress with a full skirt, ruched bust, a smocked waist, and square neckline that showed off her beautiful hourglass figure. The flowing lantern sleeves were the icing on the cake and did double duty by covering the remainder of her bruising. With a sigh of happiness, she added a gold locket her parents had given her for her eighteenth birthday and some dangly gold hoops.
She’d spent more time than usual on her makeup, finishing off with an extra coat of mascara and matching red lipstick to compliment her glossy mane of black hair. Regardless of the scab over her eye, and a few remaining bruises to her face, she knew she’d never looked better and admitted it was entirely for Andrew’s sake that she did it.
He and Annette wouldn’t allow her to see the finishing touches to the shop until it was ready for the world. She was excited to discover what miracles had been wrought.
The first four days of her recovery had been spent in the beautiful home above the shop. The three of them had spent some lovely times talking and getting to know one another better in between Andrew and Annette renovating.
However, Gabrielle begged to go home and had slowly puttered about, putting things to rights in her apartment with Annette’s help in the evenings. Many of her dishes, her mirror, and other breakables had needed to be replaced. Overall, she counted herself as lucky. Things could have ended much worse.
Even Madame Moreau had sent a message upstairs with her niece, who was staying with the older lady during her own recovery. The woman knocked loudly on Gabrielle’s door. For a second, her heart had leapt into her throat, remembering the last time that had happened. However, she wouldn’t let such fears overwhelm her, and opened it to find a little wisp of a woman holding a box of chocolates and wishing Gabrielle, ‘All the best.’ It had meant a lot and Gabrielle determined to pay the lady a visit once the opening day of Caviste de Tremblay was behind her.
Andrew still knew nothing of his city-wide fame. There was no reason for him to look at a French newspaper. Although he revealed to Gabrielle that he’d been asked to pose for a picture with several ladies at the local Monoprix grocery store, something which he puzzled over, he was none the wiser.
She glanced at her clock where it resided on her night table. It was 10:30 am already! The opening was only a half hour away. Grabbing her purse, she slipped on her wedge sandals and hurried out the door, locked up, and made her way downstairs. She planned to take her time as she walked in the warm April sunshine. Birds twittered in the branches of young oak trees planted along the street and poppies bobbed their heads in greeting as she passed beneath their window boxes, humming a tune.
It was almost 11 o’clock when she drew close to the shop. She heard the buzz of voices before seeing who made the noise. Turning the last corner, she saw cars jamming the street on both sides. Masses of people were milling about in chattering groups on the sidewalks and out into the street. A long, snaking line of customers waited eagerly to get inside the doors. There was a small van with a satellite dish perched on its roof blocking traffic. Two men were talking with a camera mounted on a tripod just outside the store.
Could it be true?
Quickening her pace, Gabrielle wove through the crowd, ignoring the looks of appreciation she received from men. She sought the appreciation of only one.
It wasn’t easy to break through the tight throngs of well-wishers, people curious to see the ‘Canadian Cowboy’ as he’d been dubbed by the newspaper, and anxious would-be customers. She had to explain several times that she was working at the shop today before people would let her skip past the line and head straight for the door.
She rapped sharply on the glass, leaning close and cupping her hands around her eyes to look inside and let them know it was her. Eventually, she was rewarded with the sight of a harried Annette rushing toward her and waving. Her sister unlocked the door and Gabrielle slipped inside with people pushing behind her in an effort to enter the shop early.
“It’s amazing,” her sister said, her eyes widening in shock as she looked outside. “There’s probably another fifty outside since I last checked. It’s a good thing I convinced him to order more wine. He’ll be sold out today.”
With a smug look of satisfaction, she turned and led the way to the back room. “Oh, by the way, Andrew still doesn’t know about the reporters, the cameras, or all the people out there. He’s been in the cellar all morning, arranging the latest shipment of wine. It’s going to be quite a shock.” She reached for a bottle that was slightly askew and set it squarely on the shelf.
The pink floral mini dress she wore had a full skirt, but the material was heavier than Gabrielle’s and was flocked with a lacy white print. A pretty bow hung from the ruffled round neck and the little cap sleeves were gathered into a flounce that matched the bottom of the skirt. She wore flat white sandals in preparation of the busy day ahead.
Gabrielle smiled. When her little sister moved to Paris this fall, to begin her formal art education, she would enjoy having her nearby. Perhaps even living with her, although you never knew what might happen in the space of a few months, she mused as she looked for Andrew.
She stopped, gaping at the shop around her. She hadn’t even noticed the fantastic changes that had been made. The walls shone with a coat of fresh paint and new, stainless steel track lights had been erected down the full length of the space. It was bright and welcoming. Gone was the dark, dingy look from before. New shelves ran from floor to ceiling down either of the walls with long spaces at regular intervals. The spot at the center points of the openings allowed for a special display of wine to be spotlighted. Sparkling bottles filled each shelf, organized according to region, colour, and type.
Down the middle of the room were the display crates that Andrew had made. They were filled with raffia and loaded with glistening bottles of less expensive wines. Trailing pots of ivy hung from a couple of end shelves adding life and greenery to the store while a chalkboard highlighting today’s specials was propped in a corner over a half barrel of wines especially brought in from her family’s estate, Chateau de Belliveau.
The floor had been cleaned, varnished, and polished to a high sheen. Uncle Olivier’s cash desk had been totally revamped, yet without altering his original design. It was amazing. Gabrielle felt an immense pride in the shop that Andrew and her sister had created.
The man himself appeared. He straightened up from behind the desk with another wooden box of clinking bottles in his arms.
“It’s you!” he cried. Hurriedly setting it down, he brushed dusty hands down the length of his pants, then realized what he’d done and smacked his legs to remove the grime. “I suppose you can take the man out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the man,” he joked.
He had combed his unruly hair, shaved, and even at this distance she could smell the faint spice of his aftershave. Locking eyes, she moved toward him and lifted her arms to share le bise. “It is a day of celebration,” she announced.
Moving out from behind the counter, they greeted one another and then he shoved one hand in his pocket, stepping back and looking at her as if asking for her approval. She was startled, stopping short to stare at his attire. The omnipresent blue jeans were gone, replaced by cream-coloured chinos and dressy brown leather loafers. A salmon-pink button up shirt with the sleeves rolled over his strong forearms, completed the ensemble. He looked the part of a casual, but elegantly dressed Parisian.
The words of the young Nicole floated through her mind as Gabrielle stared at him, trying to keep her jaw from dropping.
‘Hang on to that man. He’s fantastic.’
“I—I think you look fabulous,” she stammered at last.
“No,” he said, taking in her dress with glowing eyes. “If anyone looks fabulous it’s you. I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful.”
“It’s nice that you like what one another is wearing,” interrupted Annette. “But we should ‘urry. There are people outside, all clamouring for the doors to open.”
“Oh right! Sorry.” Andrew jumped back, tucking, then untucking his new shirt. “Wish I didn’t feel like such a fool,” he mumbled, turning away, and reaching for the box of bottles.
Gabrielle leapt after him. “You feel like a fool? Why?” she asked. “Is it because of the language barrier?”
“No,” he growled. “The clothes. I look like an idiot in this outfit. Your sister got it, thinking it would help me to fit in with my surroundings for the grand opening. But clothes don’t make the man, as my mother always says, and I’m longing for my jeans.” Hefting the box into his arms he set off through the store to place the bottles in a cupboard, then straightened and turned to Annette and Gabrielle. He still hadn’t so much as glanced out the window to see the throngs of people waiting for him. “Ready?” he said with a grin, pulling at his collar.
“In five minutes we’ll be ready, but we aren’t yet,” Gabrielle said firmly. Stepping forward, she grabbed Andrew’s arm and pulled him toward the back rooms. “You’re coming with me.”
“If you’re going to kiss ‘im would you make it fast?” Annette yelled after them. “People are starting to bang on the door.”
Gabrielle didn’t bother responding. Dragging a reluctant Andrew behind her, she made for his bedroom.
“What are you doing? Why did your sister say that? Are you going to kiss me?” he asked with an edge of both disbelief and hope in his voice.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. She pushed him through the doorway, grabbed the handle, and barked out orders. “Take off those clothes and put yours on. ‘At, jeans, belt, boots—the works. And don’t come out until you do. People came ‘ere to see the Canadian Cowboy whose strength and selfless concern for others ‘ave made him a local legend. They don’t want to see a cookie-cutter version of some well-dressed Parisian. They want to see you. Understand?”
Andrew came to attention and saluted. “Oui Madame!”
Lifting a hand, she blew him a kiss. “Bien,” she said with a grin. “That’s all you get for now.”
After slamming the door, she marched back to the front of the store, joining Annette who had retired to a safe spot behind the cash desk. They stood together watching the restless crowd grow by the minute.
“It’s amazing,” Gabrielle breathed. She consulted her cell phone and expelled a long breath of air. “But it’s past eleven now. Per’aps we should open the doors ourselves. What do you think?” She turned a worried face to Annette.
“They want to see ‘im, not us.” Annette pushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “What’s ‘e doing back there?”
A firm clomp of boots on a wooden floor told them he was on his way. They both turned to watch him duck through the door and stop, thumbs hooked through his belt loops, assuming a comical stance.
“Better?” he asked. Andrew had on his usual slim-fitting jeans, but today he wore a black, long-sleeved, button-up shirt that followed the lean lines of his flat stomach and broad chest. A belt, with a shiny silver buckle, was cinched at his waist, and his feet were encased in boots that had been buffed to a high sheen. His trademark Stetson was pulled low over his piercing blue eyes.
“Perfect,” both women chimed in. They moved forward to hug him and plant a kiss on each cheek. He flushed with the attention.
“People are waiting for you,” Annette said, urging him forward with a hand on his arm.
“Really? I can’t imagine too many would turn out for the re-opening of a little-known wine shop that had fallen into disrepair.” He smiled ruefully at Gabrielle and her sister, but allowed himself to be tugged along by Annette.
“Time to meet my adoring public,” he quipped sarcastically, throwing back his shoulders.
But his footsteps faltered and came to an abrupt halt as Andrew neared the window. A cheer went up from the people closest to the polished glass. He whirled around to gape at his friends.
“What are all those people doing here?” he asked in amazement.
Gabrielle hurried to fling the door wide, and Annette pushed him again, moving him like an automaton toward the door.
The throng surged forward, engulfing him in a wave of humanity that pulled him into their midst, patted him on the shoulder, and shouted and whistled their appreciation. The photographer zoomed in, his assistant clearing a line of sight so he could get footage of the event. A couple of reporters snapped pictures, waiting for their chance to ask questions of the heroic man.
And Andrew, wide-eyed and dazed, nodded and smiled. For once he didn’t say mercy, but pronounced his gratitude in perfectly accented French. “Merci,” he said, over and over again.
* * *
The three ofthem sat behind the counter, exhausted but happy, on old wooden chairs brought forth from Uncle Olivier’s back rooms. The shop door had, reluctantly, been closed and locked for the night. They surveyed the wreckage. Not that anything had been harmed, but a good portion of the store had been purchased in one day.
“Lucky thing you made me order more wine,” Andrew said to Annette. “I thought it was a bit presumptuous at the time, but tomorrow morning I’m going to need it to fill the shelves.”
She giggled. “You were so surprised.”
He ran both hands through hair that had been compressed under a hat all day long. “Thank goodness you guys were there to translate and speak for me. Who knows what I would have told those reporters?”
It was Gabrielle’s turn to chuckle, but she sobered quickly. “I was proud of you. You ‘ave been in Paris less than two weeks and look at all you ‘ave accomplished.” She looked around the beautifully renovated store. “Your Uncle Olivier would be proud also.”
Andrew blinked several times before answering. “I believe he would be. I could feel him here today.” He rose to stand before them, clearing his throat.
“I want to thank you both from the bottom of my heart.” He swept a hand around the store. ”None of this would have been possible if not for your support and assistance. Heck, I don’t know if I could have even stayed in Paris. But you both made such a difference in my life.” He grinned and wiped his eyes. “For a start I wouldn’t have been able to find my way out of the métro. Or buy food. To quote a famous artist I know, I might have ended up as a withered corpse, waiting for vultures to come clean my bones.”
They laughed, the girls standing to join him in a group hug.
“And now,” he said, bending low in a sweeping bow, “if I may have the pleasure of your company, Mademoiselle.” He reached out to Gabrielle, taking her hand and kissing it. Lifting his head, he took a deep breath. “J”ai une surprise pour toi à l”étage.”
“Wh-what?” Gabrielle was astounded. He just spoke perfect French. “You ‘ave a surprise for me? Upstairs?” She glanced at her sister who was bouncing with barely supressed glee.
“I taught him that,” she blurted, then, flying at Gabrielle she hugged her tight. “Just so you know, I’m staying here,” she announced, as though speaking a rehearsed line. “à plus tard.”
“à plus tard,” Gabrielle said robotically. “See you later.” She was thoroughly overcome and allowed Andrew to gently lead her out the door and up the staircase to the beautiful home above the shop.
He opened the door and pushed it wide. She wandered in without him, not knowing what to expect, but noticing the perfume of cherry blossoms flooding her senses. Behind her, Andrew flicked a switch, and the soft glow of lamps revealed bouquets of the fragrant, pink and white flowers gracing every flat surface in the room.
“Oh!” she breathed. “It’s beautiful. You brought the orchard to me.” She went to the closest spray and buried her face in the petals, breathing deep.
Turning to Andrew she was startled to find him down on one knee. Her heart caught in her throat as he took her hands.
“I know we haven’t known one another for very long. The last two weeks have been a whirlwind.” He shook his head in disbelief. “But my parents met and married in a whirlwind too, and they’ve been together thirty-six years. Maybe you need more time before you’re ready to be committed,” he said, his handsome face flushed and earnest as he looked up at her. “But I can’t contain how I feel, and I know it’s the real thing.”
He took a deep breath. “I love you, Gabrielle. You’re my soulmate, my other half, and I can’t imagine a life without you in it. In this home, built on generations of love, I ask you to marry me and stand at my side to share in the joy and the trials of life.”
Gabrielle was speechless.
She stared at him, her long black hair tumbling forward, casting her face into shadow. It was sudden and unexpected. But she knew what her heart was telling her too.
“If you need time to think about it,” Andrew said weakly, “I understand. Take as much time as you need. I just wanted you to know that I love you and I would wait for you forever.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing. Her heart felt as though it would beat its way out of her chest as she looked into the adoring eyes of the man she loved.
“Yes,” she whispered. Lightly, she tugged at his hands, needing to feel the strength and warmth of his arms around her.
“Yes?” he repeated, getting to his feet, but not daring to come closer.
“Yes…I will marry you. Yes, I love you.” Standing on tiptoe she pulled him down to her and lifted her face for the kiss that would seal their love forever.