Opposites Attack: A Novel with Recipes Provencal (33 page)

Jean-Luc appeared at the door wearing jeans and a yellow cashmere sweater. He was clean-shaven, gray hair pulled back in a ponytail, and looking indisputably handsome.

He gave them all, even Nelson, the one-two-three kiss and started toward Nelly in the Mercedes. “Please join the others while I get to know this interesting young man.”

Isabella was slicing fresh bread when they walked in the kitchen. “
Hola!
” she sang out. Alyce could tell she’d been drinking. One eyelid drooped more than the other.

After introductions, Alyce said to Carmelita, “Try the goat cheese from a farm nearby. It’s amazing.”

“I don’t do goat.”

She and Isabella started speaking in Spanish. Alyce couldn’t make out what they were saying literally, but knew it was the usual introductory banter. She heard Carmelita say she was from Cuba, Isabella asked where Junior was, and she said with Jean-Luc and to call him Nelly.

Through the kitchen sliding-glass doors she could see Glorianna and Luther in the backyard examining the cottage, wine glasses in hand. She was making wide gestures as if to indicate the lovely morning glory vines covering almost every square inch should be taken down.

Over my dead body, Alyce thought.

She called to them from the door. “Sorry we’re late.”

Glorianna gave her a look of sympathy.

When she came inside and acknowledged You-know-who with a fake smile and three cheek kisses, Carmelita’s eyes registered shock.

Sounding moderately phony, Glorianna asked, “How was your flight?”

“Just fine, ma’am, just fine.”

“Oh, don’t call me that.” Her cheery tone changed. “Mrs. Mansfield will do.”

Luther was introduced. “I loooove your hair.” Carmelita approved of his admiration. Glorianna did not.

In addition to wine, Alyce had picked up an assortment of exotic fruits: pear-shaped
wax jambu
with thin pink skin and white insides,
rollinia
the flavor of lemon sorbet that looked like a golden artichoke with leaves that never grew, and
sapodilla
, which were small, brown and furry with orange flesh and a caramel flavor.

“The
grumichamas
are the sweetest cherries you’ll ever eat,” she said as she started washing the various fruits.

“I just loooove being in another country,” trilled Luther.

“And
mamey
is kind of like an avocado that tastes like a peach and an apricot.”

Glorianna commented, “You’re so continental now, Al-
eees.
”

“Where’s the bathroom?” asked Carmelita. She did not come out for awhile.

Isabella wasted no time pitching her paintings to Nelson and Glorianna. Alyce watched her body language. Was she trying to get him to buy her work or her?

Jean-Luc and Junior returned, giving the clear impression that they had become best buddies. He did have a way with kids. Again she saw him with Colette and felt his unbearable heartbreak.

Carmelita reappeared when she heard her son’s voice.

Isabella presented Nelly with fresh, warm rosemary bread topped with goat cheese and chopped basil. He made a face that was worse than the one he gave Glorianna when she lightly hugged him and tentatively patted him on the head.

“Don’t ya have any candy bars or cookies?”

Jean-Luc nearly barked, “I baked that bread! You will love it.”

“Nelson,” Glorianna said archly, “Maybe it’s time to send this child to boarding school?”

Carmelita pursed her lips, grabbed Nelly’s shoulders, and drew him to her.

What a great idea
Alyce telepathically relayed to Glorianna.

Nelson cleared his throat. “Sure, I’ll look into schools around here. With his mother living nearby, of course.”

Carmelita broke into a smug grin. A new thought zapped into Alyce’s brain. Could this have been Nelson’s plan all along? Live far away from his mother in the enchanting South of France with his new family and have his other one close, too?

Nelly wrested himself away from his mother’s grip and examined the appetizer. “You made this?”

“A real man knows how to cook, Nelly.”

He cracked up. “Ne-
lee
sounds funny.” He reluctantly took a slice, smelled it, and tried a small bite. With his mouth full, he mumbled, “This is great!”

In no time Jean-Luc had him learning the French word for everything he was eating:
pain, romarin, fromage de chèvre.
From there it went to table, chair, plate, glass, knife, fork, spoon. To encourage him to learn more French (which Alyce now wished he wouldn’t do), Jean-Luc handed Nelly the electronic translator Alyce rarely used anymore. He showed him how to look up a word in English or French. He was enthralled.

“You have a good ear for other languages,” Jean-Luc exclaimed. “It is because you are young and used to hearing Spanish at home.”

“I don’t hear Spanish.”

Carmelita said, “I’m an American now. Why would I speak it?”

“What a pity,” said Glorianna. “It’s such an asset.” She nudged Luther.

“Yes!” he piped in, “I’d give anything to speak Spanish.”

Carmelita’s face was as expressionless as stone.

Jean-Luc lectured Nelly on how important it was to learn as many other tongues as possible, as young as possible. “You will be able to seduce any woman, trust me.”

Nelly glanced at Isabella’s ass as she bent over and checked on something in the lower oven. “Really?”

Ten years old and he was already a dirty old man.

After finishing his snack, Nelly pulled out a device from his leather jacket and started playing a game.

Jean-Luc said with alarm, “What is that in your hair, Nelly? A spider?”

He jumped up, swatting. “What? Where? Where?”

Jean-Luc reached behind him and produced a one Euro coin and gave it to him.

“Wow!” He studied the currency. “That’s cool. Teach me.”

He held out his hand. The boy high-fived. “That is not what I want.”

“Yeck. You want me to hold your hand?”

“I want that wretched thing you are playing with.”

He slowly gave it to him. Jean-Luc slipped it into a drawer.

He showed him the magic trick as Isabella lubricated everyone else with a nice sparkling
Prosecco.
They allowed Nelly a small glass, as most French children were accustomed to having.

“Moving to France sounds good to me,” the boy said.

Glorianna quickly interrupted. “I’m thinking Switzerland. Much better schools.”

Alcohol has a way of smoothing rough edges. By the time everyone settled at the large dining table next to the living room and a local rosé was dispensed to go with the main course, the mood was more jovial.

Especially when Glorianna raised her glass. “
Bon appétit!
”

Alyce didn’t dare look at Jean-Luc or Isabella.

“Damn, this chicken stew is
good
,” exclaimed Carmelita. “It’s got somethin’ different in it. I can’t figure out what it is.”

Again, Alyce couldn’t look at them. She knew what they had done.

Jean-Luc first described the marinade he used: red wine, cognac, sliced onions and carrots, garlic, thyme, bay leaf, fresh rosemary, and black pepper. Then he browned the lapin, added onions,
lardon
(similar to bacon), flour to thicken, and mushrooms.

Nelly was furiously entering letters in Alyce’s electronic translator. “How do you spell that word for chicken? L-a-p-a-n?”

“No, chicken is poo-
lay
,” he said. “P-o-u-l-e-t.”

“That’s close to
pollo
, Spanish for chicken,” said Carmelita, now liking her son learning another language.

“Then what’s the other?”

“L-a-p-i-n.”

He punched it in. “Rabbit? Gross!”

Carmelita spit a mouthful of food onto her hand.

Everyone else was tipsy enough to find the humor in it, even Glorianna, who discreetly put her fork down and never used it again.

Luther caught his breath. “Now I get it. This whole French thing is peasant chic.”

Alyce thought Jean-Luc would be deeply insulted. Instead he found his comment so outrageous he laughed along with everyone else.

He turned to Carmelita and asked, overly politely, “Tell us about your childhood. Where were you born, what was your family like?”

She coolly replied, “I don’t remember.”

Jean-Luc, soothing and warm, said, “My father left when I was five. We became quite poor and my mother,” he eyed Nelly, “she couldn’t find a real job and had to make money illegally.” He was riveted. “They are both dead. Now I am writing a memoir.”

His fist landed on the counter with a loud
thunk
, startling them all.

“I would give every possession to my name to have one more conversation with them! To ask them the very questions I am asking you! What if you died tomorrow? What would your son know about you?”

Nelson, who was sitting next to Alyce on the other side of the table from Carmelita and his son, said, “He has a point, Lee-lee.”

Lee-lee
, Alyce thought.

“Do
you
wanna know, Nelly?” his mother asked.

His “yeah” showed more enthusiasm than usual.

Glorianna and Luther sat stiffly as Carmelita told a wrenching tale of being born in Cuba after Castro’s guerilla troops overthrew Batista. The family farm was confiscated in the name of socialism. Her father was thrown into prison for stealing right after she was conceived.

“He was tryin’ to feed his eight children. I was the last one. I lived in poverty until I escaped on a boat to Miami, a little kid and skinny as my pinkie. I understand why your mama became a, you know, did what she did. I was lucky I had a religious
tia
in Miami who took me in and was super strict. I had a hard time in school not knowin’ the language. I ended up droppin’ out. I was a barmaid at a hotel on Miami Beach, in my 30s, when I met Nelson.”

She studied him with what sure looked liked more than friendship in her eyes. “He looked so sweet. Like he would never hit me or hurt me.”

Nelson looked down and cleared his throat.

To hell with being pregnant. Alyce poured herself another glass of wine. Jean-Luc, sitting to her left at the end of the table, pushed a pitcher of water in her direction.

Glorianna interjected, “I’m beginning to understand you better, Carmelita.”

A silence fell over the table but for the sound of Alyce brushing breadcrumbs into a neat pile by her plate.

“Nelly,” Jean-Luc said brightly, “Let me show you another magic trick.”

Within moments the mood shifted as he demonstrated how to do the classic Handkerchief and Vanishing Coin Trick. The look of wonder and concentration on the boy’s face would melt anyone.

“First, you place a flesh-colored rubber band around your fingers and thumb,” Jean-Luc instructed. “Place the scarf in that hand. With your other hand, put the coin into the handkerchief. Let the rubber band slide off of your fingers onto the silky cloth so it now surrounds the coin. Slide your hand up to the end and shake the handkerchief. It looks like the coin has disappeared but it’s really stuck in the scarf held tight by the rubber band.”

“Cool!”

A thunderclap rumbled close by. The wind kicked up. Jean-Luc closed the sliding door to the patio and suggested Nelly go upstairs to practice the trick.

Alyce knew there had to be a reason he did that. With all the alcohol being consumed mixed with Jean-Luc’s expert interrogation skills, more confessions were sure to come.

Droopy-eyed Isabella swayed as she talked. She seemed sad. Alyce supposed it was because she had no children and how much she’d like to have one with Jean-Luc. He should tell her about Colette. She wouldn’t take it so hard. But that was between them. She had her own problems to deal with.

Lee-lee.

And what was going on inside her own body? She’d had a bit more staining but it wasn’t like any period she’d ever had.

Jean-Luc put out a beautiful spread of local cheeses and the fruit she’d brought, complimenting her choices. He also filled the empty wine glasses with a Muscat. No way was Alyce touching that.

Carmelita’s vanished faster than the coin in the handkerchief.

Glorianna and Luther were shitfaced. Some of her hair had fought its way out of its tight little bun. When they laughed at the same time it reminded her of sounds from a haunted house. “Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo! Hah-hah-hah-hah!”

Nelson was a drinker who knew his limits—another attractive quality about him. But he looked troubled, distracted. Maybe he hadn’t had
enough
to drink. He took a rather big gulp of the Muscat.

Alyce could tell by the way Carmelita studied the bottle of dessert wine that her eyesight was going. She put it down and struggled to remove her jacket until Jean-Luc, the closest male to her, assisted. Her low-cut top captured every heaving of her massive bosom.

Moments later, “Oops!” Carmelita had spilled a good portion of her drink down her front. Alyce glanced at Nelson, expecting to exchange a humorous boy-is-she-drunk look. Instead he was transfixed as she dipped a white cloth napkin in a glass of water and dabbed at her chest.

Just as Alyce was about to give him a good hard pinch under the table, Isabella leaned in and asked Carmelita, “Are your sensational breasts real?”

“I really think that’s none of your business,” Nelson said nervously as he popped a
grumichama
in his mouth. His mother agreed.

Isabella didn’t care. “So many American women have them. It is the status symbol, no?”

“They was all saggy after Junior was born so Nelson gave ’em to me as a birthday present.”

A numbness started around Alyce’s ears and rapidly spread.

“I thought you had no idea.”

Nelson spit out a seed. “It was a tactless question. She’s entitled to her privacy.”

Glorianna raised her glass. “A toast to my expanded family!”

Alyce fired off, “You’re not answering my question.”

“You was talkin’ about my boobies to her?”

“Why don’t you just fix her damn gold tooth, too?”

“That’s enough, Ally!”

Claws popped as she and Carmelita, sitting directly across from each other, stood up at the same time.