Best Maid Plans Page 13

I glanced at Rebecca who’s panic fired back at me. Madame Henri had to be—

  “...Babs’s mother, oui?” Stephanie sounded like she’d been talking awhile.

  I stared at her.

  Babs’s mother.

  Shit.

  Madame Henri turned and studied both Rebecca and I. “There is a problem?”

  Rebecca nodded, she was whiter than she’d been with sunblock. “You don’t look anywhere near old enough to have a forty year old daughter.” She meant every word, I knew she did and I agreed. Madame Henri didn’t look much older than fifty.

  Her eyes twinkled, that subtle lift to the corner of her lips. “Good breeding.”

  “And then some.” Rebecca wheezed out a breath. “Which means Babs is going to look as fit.” She threw her hands in the air. “I’ll look like my dad. I’m already going grey.”

  I peered at her hair. She had two strands at most. “You’re being dramatic.”

  She gasped in her breaths, panic pulsing in her eyes. “She’s gorgeous,” she muttered in English. “How do I keep up with that? Babs will wake up one day and wonder why she found me attractive.”

  She bent at the waist, sucking in her breaths. I held onto her shoulders as her breathing got shallower. “Hey, it’s okay. Berne will have to deal with the same thing.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Pip, you look like you fit here. I don’t.”

  “This is not so, Babs loves you inside and out,” Stephanie moved in, taking a hat from a shelf and fanning Rebecca with it.

  I thought I’d been the only one who needed a paper bag when it came to love. Clearly loopy-in-love was a national pastime.

  “Stephanie’s right. You’ll look lovely. You’ll look sophisticated.” I glanced at Berne for help. “Won’t she?”

  Berne’s gaze was riveted to my rear. She snapped her eyes to mine, clearing her throat. “Er... Oui, Babs adores you.”

  I really liked my skirt. I didn’t care it was worth more than three mansions, I would just sell Rebecca.

  Madame Henri raised an eyebrow at Rebecca, a curious glint in her eyes. “I hear much of you.”

  Uh oh. It didn’t sound like an endorsement.

  “You do?” Rebecca asked, still looking like she’d run around Monaco, twice. “I wasn’t sure if she’d mentioned me.”

  Madame Henri rolled her eyes and strode off.

  I glanced at Berne who shrugged, gaze dropping to my rear again. “She is hard to...” she hummed, a half smile on her face. “... hard to... read at first, oui?”

  “She didn’t kick us out, that’s something, right?” I rubbed Rebecca’s back, then tapped Berne on the nose. “Stop checking out my derriere, will you?”

  She smiled a sultry smile, reached forward and pulled a tag hanging from my jacket. “You left it on.”

  Oh. So much for the skirt. I glanced at Rebecca who looked like she may keel over. I needed to remind her we were strong. We could be strong... ish.

  I met Berne’s smile with my best attempt at sultry. “Maybe I was trying to get your attention?”

  Ooh, that sounded very cunning, and so unlike me.

  Berne raised an eyebrow, amusement in her eyes. “You capture it with ease.”

  I leaned in, hovering inches from her nose. “Really?”

  It sounded like a challenge. I sounded so brave and strong. Stephanie chuckled and I heard Rebecca straighten up in her swishy jacket.

  “Oui,” Berne purred. Said like “way,” a “yeah” in French. Oh I loved it when she said that... and she knew it. Cheat.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Prove it,” I whispered back. Prove it? What? What rubbish was I talking now? This was why I didn’t do battling. I needed coaching. I needed a brain.

  Berne’s smile filled her eyes. “Pepe—”

  “Bebe, the car is ready. Come.” Madame Henri strutted past, tapped Berne on the bottom, linked arms with Stephanie and led her towards the door. “Now tell me, are you available for dinner with some better suitors?”

  Stephanie glanced over her shoulder at me.

  “You’re dining with us,” I blurted out.

  “Er... oui.” Stephanie’s relief filled her eyes. “I have to help... with um...”

  “My car.” Why did that come out? Winston was in Ajoux-Sur-Rhône and could Stephanie fix a car?

  Madame Henri turned. “Pardon?”

  Berne raised an eyebrow; Rebecca stared up at the ceiling, and Stephanie nodded like she was hoping I could find some way out of the hole I was digging.

  Come on, Saunders. Try being useful. “Stephanie is really helpful. I need to change the oil.” Winston would back me up. He could splutter when needed. I cleared my throat. “He needs an oil change.”

  “Then take it to a mechanic.” Madame Henri looked me up and down.

  I jutted out my chin. “I may be a woman, Madame Henri, but I am quite capable of fixing my own car.” I wagged my finger in the air. Hah. Yeah. Equality and all that.

  Berne beamed at me with such pride in her eyes; Rebecca stared at me like she may throttle me, and Stephanie clamped her mouth shut, her shoulders shuddering with silent laughter.

  “You can fix a car?” Madame Henri raised an eyebrow. She didn’t sound convinced.

  “Not only can I fix it, but I can diagnose and, when I feel like it, Winston even gets a wash.” I nodded. Yup, I was talking rubbish. What was new?

  “You name your car?” She studied my face.

  “I have. I’ve been with Winston since I was seventeen. Once I give my heart, it stays.” I swiped my finger through the air again.

  Berne pecked me on the cheek.

  I blushed.

  “I like this. Very well.” Madame Henri smiled at me, her eyes warmed and she led Stephanie out.

  I opened my mouth, then closed it. She liked it?

  “I think you win her over,” Berne said with a chuckle. “Your charm always shines, non?”

  Rebecca shook her head at me. “Sounded kind of butch too.” She squeezed my arm. “Proud of you.”

  “Wait till I tell her you taught me, she’ll love you like my dad does.” I nodded. I hoped anyway. I also hoped she couldn’t speak a word of English.

  “Let’s hope she doesn’t expect Winston to make an appearance then,” Rebecca mumbled as we headed out to the car waiting for us. There was a van behind it with the H logo. “He’s looking a bit rugged for a mini.”

  I was too busy staring at the logo. “Does she own the shop?”

  “Madame Henri?” Berne nodded when I looked at her. “Bien sûr, she launches it when she retired from the runways, non?”

  “She’s a pilot too?” I asked.

  Rebecca squeezed my hand as she looked from the shop to the car and back. “Think she means modelling, Pip.” She pointed up at a window length picture of a woman strutting down a catwalk. I’d seen that picture a lot growing up. I blinked at it.

  The hint of a smile on her face; French eloquence, style... and I’d stuck it on my wall. It was why I’d been so taken with France, why I’d always wanted to visit... I was going to faint.

  “Pepe, you are well?” Berne held onto me. “There is a problem?”

  “That means Babs’s dad is...” I swallowed. He was one of the most successful entrepreneurs and he’d been rich before that. “Monsieur Henri...” He was the kind of man that posh magazines photographed when he was holidaying on yachts. I was certain he had been, a lot. There was glamour, then there was Monsieur and Madame Henri.

  “Yeah,” Rebecca wheezed.

  How did we impress them enough they’d let Babs marry Rebecca? I glanced at Berne and swallowed the panic.

  Berne gave me a warm smile. “This is the outside,” she whispered, leading us both to the car like the dumbstruck idiots we were. “Inside, they are good people. Babs is much like them.”

  Rebecca took a deep breath.

  Stephanie patted the seat next to her. “Just metal and material,” she said with a smile. “Just like Winston, oui?”
/>
  Rebecca nodded and clambered in.

  Madame Henri flashed me a gentle smile. “If it breaks down, we are in safe hands, oui?”

  I nodded. Madame Henri. Was it polite to faint in designer clothes? Stephanie tried to calm Rebecca talking to her about rugby. Stephanie had been there, she understood and she was really the only person who could help.

  I turned and kissed Berne on the lips, putting every ounce of my feeling into it.

  “Ça va?” Berne asked helping me into the back.

  “I love the Ardèche.” I pressed my lips to hers. “I love your parents.” I kissed her again. “I love that you look so good.”

  I lingered, soaking her in, feeling the warmth of it tingle right to my toes. “...and “I really love you as you are.”

  Berne studied me. “You do? You would not like the car, the clothes?”

  “No.” And I meant it. Wow. I nuzzled in. “As gorgeous as you look now, there’s nothing I like better than you covered in mud and stone dust.”

  Berne smiled with sheer relief twinkling in her eyes, her smile. Had she been worried? How could she be the insecure one? Didn’t she know how wonderful she was?

  We were driven through the city. Monaco towered around us, glitz, glamour and money but it wasn’t Ajoux-Sur-Rhône. It wasn’t love nestled among craggy gorges overhung with thick green trees, or cobbled, dusty streets with bright painted shutters. No, my heart was there among the mountains, among people warmer than the summer, and more welcoming than the mighty Ardèche.

  “I prefer you working the wood,” Berne whispered to me, squeezing me close. “I prefer you on the Ardèche also, non?” She winked at me.

  Images of sloshing through the rapids, of singing La Marseillaise and camping out, of a certain night in a wooden chalet rolled through my head.

  “Yes, well...” I cleared my throat. That bit was rather nice too.

  Rebecca once again shook her head.

  Berne played a sneaky game.

  “Kayaking is very good for you. A healthy activity,” I mumbled, trying to cover my blush with my collar.

  Rebecca laughed a smutty laugh. “Cherry red helmets definitely have a way with Babs.”

  Stephanie raised her eyebrows. “Cherry red helmets?”

  “I’ll tell you later,” I said and shook my head at the image of Rebecca: helmet on, board shorts, tight rash top, white skin, floatation vest and sunblock dribbling down her nose.

  It said all I needed to know about Babs. She fell in love with Rebecca on that river, I was sure of it. She fell in love with Rebecca’s heart, with all of her. Babs drove a car as old as Winston and she chosen to live in Marseille not Monaco. She was like me. She loved adventure and being herself... but who didn’t?

  Stephanie was saying the same thing. Maybe that’s why Berne, Babs and her got on so well? Posh was nice to visit but it hadn’t done Emilie any favours. There was nothing like eating your way through chocolate in your pyjamas.

  I smiled. Shiny things weren’t half as fun as a woman with love in her heart.

  I glanced at Berne.

  Even better when that love was for you.

  Chapter 15

  I got out of the car and took in the rich blue sky; the city lay sprawled out below, and the Henri household shimmering in the afternoon sun. It was all in white: large windows, black frames, the walls spearing at angles to create viewing platforms then wood cladding added rich, warm touches. Palm trees shot up, high overhead and the pool glimmered in the afternoon sun.

  I looked at Rebecca who stared up at it. “Hope you brought your swimsuit, Whitey.”

  She didn’t move. Her shoulders hitched but she didn’t make any other movements. I needed Berne or Stephanie. Where were they?

  They were at the van with H on it, which had followed us. They were giving the driver instructions by the look of it—Unless they had started an impromptu game of charades. You could never tell—Whatever they said, they got in the van and left, the car following. Right. So abandon us then. Nice.

  “Have you always lived here?” I asked Madame Henri. Maybe Rebecca would come around a bit if I chatted.

  Madame Henri didn’t answer. She was watching Rebecca.

  Rebecca was still staring, making even sunblock look a deep colour.

  “Did Babs grow up here?” I asked again. What did I do now? Rebecca needed to talk and I needed someone sane to help me. “It looks like a very...” I glanced at the city. What could I say? It looks like a rich person’s house? It matches your yacht? “A... er... peaceful place to live.”

  Peaceful? In Monaco? Were cities ever peaceful?

  Madame Henri met my eyes. “Non, Barbara builds this for us. We lived in many places. Sometimes here, sometimes in different cities.” She smiled that smile on my poster. “Monaco is home.”

  “You’re from here, originally?” I asked trying to make it sound like I talked to rich and famous people all the time.

  “Oui. Both her father and I, we were born here.” She studied Rebecca who wobbled on her feet. I reached out and held her elbow.

  “She... built... this?” Rebecca blinked up at it. There was a hint of awe, a smattering of confusion and a whole lot of panic in her eyes. She’d always wanted to be an architect... and Babs was an elite one by the look of it.

  “She builds many things.” Madame Henri cocked her head. “You act like you do not know this.”

  Rebecca dropped her chin and focused on Madame Henri. “I knew she designed, just not as an architect. She doesn’t like to talk too much about it.”

  “Vraiment?” Madame Henri looked to me.

  “I had no idea either. I thought it was interior designs.” Babs was so much cooler for not saying a word. The fact she didn’t blow her own trumpet made it honk all the louder now.

  “Then what do you know of my daughter?” Madame Henri’s tone was laced with curiosity, and concern. Didn’t blame her. We didn’t have a clue about Babs by the look of it.

  “That she really likes to see people smile...” Rebecca chewed on her lip. “She adores her car and her friends... especially Berne, and that being alienated from her by Vivienne hurt her so much that she used to cry.” She sighed, dropping her chin to her chest. “I know little details: like how she prefers to stay at ours rather than drag me to the city because she loves being close by to Berne; that she loves to watch the fields sway in the wind and really loves the water.”

  I smiled. I was glad Berne and Babs were close again. That, and Rebecca was a soft thing.

  I cleared my throat. “Babs is fiery, furious, passionate, a dynamo, adores helping and is a sucker for crisps when she thinks I’m not looking,” I said with a smile. I’d also noticed that she often liked to wander around in one of Rebecca’s oversized t-shirts and her boxers.

  Madame Henri looked from Rebecca to me with a curious look on her face. I couldn’t make it out. It was almost like she was charmed but really didn’t want us to know that.

  “So you know nothing of her business?” The tone in her voice sounded as if she couldn’t believe that.

  “No, I knew her as Berne’s friend. I didn’t have a clue she was so talented. I should have.” Rebecca shoved her hands in her jacket, frowning. “I mean look at the lines on that. The way she creates shady spaces yet it never overpowers the space around it.” Her eyes tracked over the house. “How it complements the landscape not dominates it. The materials she uses, the way it fuses together. Wow.”

  I raised my eyebrows. I’d lost her at lines but it sounded impressive. It just looked like a big, nice looking house to me. What did I know, I did wood. It looked like good wood too. So technical.

  Madame Henri had a proud smile on her face. “It is her first.”

  Rebecca beamed. “That’s my girl.”

  Madame Henri cocked her head. “So you know nothing of her, of us?”

  Rebecca sighed. “I’m sorry but no. Even if she’d have told me I wouldn’t have twigged.” She shrugged. “Fashion isn’t my
thing.”

  Madame Henri looked to me.

  Oh how did I explain this one? “I had the poster on my wall.” I held my hands up. “You’re why I wanted to come to France.” I smiled. I had. In fact, I’d pretended to swish up and down like Madame Henri. “But Babs is just Babs to me. The dynamo, the flying Frenchwoman. I didn’t know you were related.”

  Madame Henri raised an eyebrow. “You call her these things.”

  I nodded. “Oh yeah, all the time. You haven’t been to France unless you’ve been Babs’d.”

  Rebecca grinned. “Definitely.”

  I prodded her, hoping she didn’t go into details.

  Madame Henri chuckled a soft chuckle. “She has a lot of her father’s energy,” she said in her soft tones. “And her... difference... in height from his side.”

  “I was thinking,” I mumbled. “Someone had to be less than six-foot.”

  “Oui, her father is...” Madame Henri tapped her lip. “Unusual for his genes.” She waved her hand around. “We think our children will all be short because of this but, non, only two are so.”

  “How many children do you have?” Rebecca sounded terrified.

  “Five, Barbara is the oldest.” She raised an eyebrow.

  “How do you look so good?” Rebecca sounded like she’d burst into tears. “What woman looks as beautiful after five kids?”

  “Keep talking.” Madame Henri chuckled and touched her cheek. “You turn pinker in the sun.”

  Pink, ashen and woozy, Rebecca didn’t look like she could move. I sighed. Didn’t blame her. Madame Henri the supermodel, elite designer and still looked gorgeous after five children.

  Five.

  Babs was clearly a second generation dynamo.

  Chapter 16

  Madame Henri left us to it but Rebecca hadn’t moved a muscle. I wasn’t sure what she was thinking but I hoped she wasn’t going to turn and bolt. For a start, she needed suncream, sunblock or, even better, shade. All three involved moving... and not fainting. It wouldn’t be a great way to win the Henri family around if they had to resuscitate her and I didn’t like to think how much hospitals cost in Monaco.

  Berne and Stephanie pulled up in a car looking very pleased with themselves—I’d give her pleased. What was she doing leaving us here? Where was the back-up, huh? And, wow, did she look gorgeous in her suit.