****
Fruit-laden vines ripened in the hot summer sun as Ella and Jean-Luc climbed the steep slope ofle Clos de Montmartreand entered the museum.
Filtered light from a wall of windows illuminated the cheerful foyer where several paintings were displayed on the wall opposite the entrance. Doors along a corridor opened into rooms housing various collections of art, and a wooden staircase led to the second floor for additional exhibits. At a cherry wood table in a room adjoining the entry, Colette Ducharme and two gentlemen poured over paperwork in an ongoing conference. They looked up as Jean-Luc and Ella walked in.
A thin man with sandy hair and glasses smiled in obvious recognition and approached with a welcoming, outstretched hand. “Bonjour, Jean-Luc. Colette mentioned that you’d be delivering the portrait today. We’re all most anxious to see it.”
Jean-Luc introduced Ella to Olivier, who led them into the conference room and gestured to an empty easel in the corner beside the table.
While Jean-Luc set the painting upon the wooden stand, Olivier presented Ella to his colleague Guillaume and a clearly perturbed Colette.
Ella avoided her disdainful, condescending stare.
Jean-Luc unfurled the sheet, revealing Colette’s portrait to appreciative gasps and murmurs of praise.
“It’s splendid! Perfect forL’Art de la Danse.A most impressive piece. Congratulations, Jean-Luc. You’ve exceeded our expectations.” The dark-haired Guillaume turned from his perusal of the portrait and firmly shook Jean-Luc’s hand.
Accepting the effusive praise with a humble nod, Jean-Luc cleared his throat and raised a resolute face. “I have an announcement to make. I’m withdrawing from the exhibition. I’ve delivered Madame Ducharme’s portrait, fulfilling my professional obligation. But I no longer wish to have any further dealings with her ever again.” He glared at Colette, simmering with revulsion and rage. “For weeks, I endured your unwanted advances, for fear of jeopardizing my professional career.” His impassioned eyes found Ella’s. “And nearly lost what matters most.” He addressed Guillaume and Olivier, both of whom appeared flustered and flummoxed. “Find another featured artist. Best of luck withL’Art de la Danse.”
Jean-Luc grasped Ella’s hand and turned away from the stunned, speechless curators. He led her out ofle Musée de Montmartre.Into the glorious sunshine of freedom.
“I feel as if a heavy weight has been lifted off my back.” Jean-Luc inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as if to savor the fragrance of roses from Renoir’s garden wafting on the soft summer breeze. He grinned down at Ella, his face alight with impish delight. “And now, I’ll show you my surprise.”
He led her along the quaint, familiar street with the lush canopy of abundant trees. Ella remembered Jean-Luc describing this area as a peaceful oasis in the heart of Montmartre.L’Allée des Brouillards.Where Renoir had once lived.
They walked up a stone path bordered by well-manicured hedges and leafy shade trees to a two-story beige apartment building with elaborate wrought iron decorations framing the three large windows on the lower level and the upstairs balcony over the entrance door. To her astonishment, Jean-Luc retrieved a key from his pocket, unlocked the front door, and escorted her inside.
A large, open studio with three enormous display windows and a gleaming pinewood floor welcomed Ella. Intricately carved wooden doors enclosed three rooms on the lower level, with an equally intricate banister along the stairwell leading to the upper floor.
“There’s plenty of room for my paintings here,” he said, indicating a long wall extending from a corner behind one of the large windows. “And you could display your couture over there.” He gestured to the opposite corner near the other two front windows.
“This is large enough for a sewing room, with plenty of storage for your lace and denim supplies.” He opened one of the beautifully carved wooden doors to reveal a spacious room with two windows overlooking a walled rear courtyard with a white trellis covered with blooming pink roses.
Ella’s pulse accelerated as comprehension dawned.
“We could share this room for lessons on alternate days, like we do now atl’Atelier des Lumières,”he said, opening the door to an equally lovely room overlooking the rose garden. “And I can paint in here.” He showed her a large, open studio with enormous, elaborately carved ceiling to floor French doors leading outside to the cobbled stone rear courtyard.
Ella was speechless. And shaking with anticipation.
“Let’s go upstairs.” Jean-Luc grabbed her hand with an enthusiastic grin.
At the top of the stairwell, another set of carved wooden French doors opened onto a foyer where a large arched window offered a beautiful view of the rear rose garden. To the left was an open living and dining room area with a gleaming hardwood floor. Off the kitchen, a cozy breakfast nook overlooked the same walled courtyard from a smaller window on the right.
“Come this way.” Jean-Luc led Ella down the hall to a spacious master bedroom behind the living room area. A set of French doors opened onto a balcony overlooking the rose garden, and the suite contained a private bathroom and separatetoilettes.
Her mouth agape, Ella turned to stare incredulously at Jean-Luc. “Is this apartmentours?”
A dazzling smile lit up his handsome face. “Oui,mon coeur.It is indeed.” He kissed her hand with chivalrouspanache.“Let me show you the rest.” Dark eyes glinting with glee, he led her back across the foyer, down a hall, past a second bathroom and additionalWC,topair of bedrooms on opposite ends of the long corridor.
“This room on the left could be our office. We can set up computer areas for each of us.” He led her across the hall to the bedroom with the wrought iron balcony which extended over the front entry below. “And this can be a guest bedroom. For when your parents or my mother come to visit.”
Jean-Luc brought Ella back through the foyer to the arched window overlooking the rose garden. He took hold of her hands, lowered his lips to bestow a reverent kiss, and raised an impassioned, intense face.
“I was a wreck—walking a tightrope with Colette, trying to reject her without offending her. Struggling to complete the portrait on time. Trying to finish the other pieces for the exhibit.” Brows furrowed, he gazed pensively out the window to the trees encircling the courtyard. “Alphonse came into the shop and told me he had to sell the atelier. That I needed to be out by October 1st. You had just gotten the visa and ended your lease. My whole life was spinning out of control.” He looked back at Ella, his eyes widened in wonder. “And then, the other day—I can’t explain it, but I felt compelled to come here. To walk along theAllée des Brouillards.The peaceful oasis where I always wanted to live.”
A dazzling smile stretched across his animated, eager face. “I saw this apartment, with a for rent sign. Called the realtor. She met me here and gave me tour. I knew it was perfect for us. I paid the deposit and signed the lease. And now, Ella…it’s ours.”
He pulled her close and wrapped his arms behind her back, ducking his chin to kiss her forehead. “I’ve always called youmon coeur.My heart.” With a boyish grin, he said, “I thought… if you like it…we could name our new shop ‘Studio of the Heart.’L’Atelier du Coeur.”
