“He didn’t think he could make it in California. He didn’t want to burden her parents by moving in with them while he tried to get his green card and find a job. He’d barely started making a name for himself with the restaurant in Paris. Who would hire him in California?”
“So, she stayed with her folks.” Maurice frowned. “Why didn’t the parents take Luis when Julia died?”
“They died the year before she did in a massive pileup on the interstate. Julia inherited the house and was digging through their assets when she discovered she had cancer. She didn’t tell Armand she was sick until she was in hospice and realized that, as Luis’s only living relative, Armand would have to take his son and see him through the rest of his education.”
“That had to be hard on Luis as well as Armand.”
“Armand was heartbroken. Even after all the years apart, he still loved Julia. He stayed with her and held her hand as she took her last breath.”
“And Luis?”
“Grieving. Angry at being whisked off to Paris by his absentee father. I think he blamed Armand for Julia’s death, even though he had nothing to do with her cancer. Armand brought him to Paris and enrolled him in an international school that would set him on a path to college at any school of his choice. Between the money Julia’s parents left her and the funds Armand set aside for his son’s higher education, the boy was set for a strong future.”
“I take it Luis didn’t settle in very well.” Maurice continued wiping the stovetop.
Amelie scrunched her nose. “No. His grades were abysmal. He argued with Armand whenever they were together. Luis limped through his last year in high school and told Armand he had no intention of going to college. Armand tried to get him interested in becoming a chef. He even brought Luis on as a student in his kitchen after he graduated.”
“He wasn’t interested, was he?”
Amelie shook her head. “Not at all. I tried to help where I could by running interference when they butted heads. I tried to be a friend to Luis since he’d left all his friends behind in California.”
“Did it help?”
“A little. But it all seemed a little too late. Especially when his father died. Luis was just shy of twenty-one when Armand passed.” Amelie swallowed hard at the lump forming in her throat.
“How did Amand die?” Maurice asked softly.
She gripped the mop tightly and stared at her reflection in the shiny stainless-steel door of the refrigerator. Amelie didn’t see herself. She saw Armand lying on the floor of the restaurant kitchen. The early morning light fell across his pale and waxy face. He’d lain face-down, his cheek pressed into a dark, almost black stain on his usually spotless floor. Unmoving. Not breathing. “The médecin légiste report stated that he’d had a heart attack. When he fell, he hit his head on the corner of the counter.”
“Who found him?” Maurice asked.
She turned to face him. His face blurred through her tears. “Me.”
Maurice set his rag aside and crossed to her. He took the mop from her hands and set it aside. Then he pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” she whispered.
“I’m sorry you had to be the one who found him.” He held her close, stroking her hair. “It’s hard to see someone you love...like that.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist. “I was in a state of denial. It couldn’t be real. It wasn’t Armand. He wasn’t dead.” She leaned her cheek against his shoulder.
“Was that what you were thinking about on the dance floor?”
She nodded. “It was three years ago last night that he died. Each year, it seems a little easier to make it through the day. I was feeling guilty that the memories are fading. That the pain of his death is becoming more bearable. It shouldn’t, should it?” She leaned back and looked up into his face.
He shook his head. “Life goes on. Those of us lucky enough to live have to keep going. Truth is, none of us is getting out of this alive. We just don’t know when our number is up. When our time is up. We can’t stop living because someone we loved died.”
Amelie frowned. “You know.”
He nodded.
“Who did you lose?”
“A couple of my brothers in arms, my mother and father,” he paused for only a second, “and my fiancée.”
Amelie’s eyes widened. “Oh, Maurice. I should be comforting you, not the other way around.”
His mouth quirked on one corner. “In a way, you are.” Tightening his arms around her briefly, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “Maybe misery does love company. And maybe through shared sorrow we can find our way to happiness.” He set her at arm’s length. “And maybe we will get more work done and make a brighter future if we aren’t wallowing in the past.” He tipped the mop handle into her hands.
