“It was connected to the water source, but Pierre brought it here when he built the factory,” I explained.
“But then, she’syours!” Albert declared, throwing his hands in the air. “You must take her.”
“Where would I put her?” Étienne asked with bemusement.
“At Les Saules! You could have her in the garden, by the river.”
I could tell that Étienne was fighting back laughter as he put his hand on his grandfather’s back. “No, she’s better suited here. Thank you though.”
His eyes were twinkling as they met mine.
We were in fits about it last night after we got home—we weren’t laughing at Albert; he’s the kindest person on the planet and his heart is in the right place—it was the thought of that extravagant fountain sitting among the wildflowers outside Étienne’s little house. The image was so funny to us both.
This morning though, Étienne seemed troubled. “I don’t want what I haven’t earned,” he said seriously as we lay together in the bed at his apartment. “I’ve worked hard to get what I have and that’s the way I like it. Jackson has earned his place at Eau de Sainte Églantine. If Albert starts talking about giving me anything else or, God forbid, changing his will, please put a stop to it.”
“I understand,” I said. “I’ll tell Mellie too in case he discusses it with her.”
“Thank you.”
I get it, I really do. He takes pride in what he’s achieved—he doesn’t want handouts. His issue was never really with the Osiers—he’s not like his uncle—he only cared about how Sandrine treated his mother and how she led him to believe that he’d never be wanted or accepted. It’s still so upsetting to think about how she handled it.
When Lise cracks on, I wander over to Mellie, who’s talking to a friend nearby.
“Hello, darling,” she says as I join them. Her friend excuses herself.
Mellie slips her arm around my waist and turns to survey the scene. “Look at what you’ve done,” she says proudly. “My clever girl.”
“Well, it wasn’t just me,” I reply, but I’m happy to take some of the praise.
“What time is the grotto opening?” she asks.
“Albert’s cutting the ribbon at seven o’clock.”
My phone begins to ring. I pull it out. “Étienne,” I say to Mellie, stepping away.
“Hey, are you okay?” I ask with concern.
“I’m on my way.”
“Where are you?”
“Just approaching the geyser.”
“I’ll come and meet you by the bridge.”
My heart flips when I see him strolling beneath the plane trees. He’s wearing smart gray shorts and a white long-sleeved shirt, rolled up to just below his elbows. He’s dressed up for the occasion.
“Hi!” I say as I walk up to him, sliding my hands over his chest to his shoulders.
He grasps my waist and pulls back a little to take in what I’m wearing, a navy just-above-knee-length dress that I bought for the occasion. “Tu es très belle,” he says in a low voice. “You are very beautiful,” he repeats himself in English.
“Merci beaucoup, monsieur,”I reply in as flirty a tone as I can muster.“Tu es aussi très belle.”I say this very slowly and probably very badly.
“Beau,”he corrects me, chuckling.
“I’ll get it eventually. Just keep speaking French to me and I’ll pick it up. I’m really liking this version of you who repeats every compliment he pays me.” I’m currently getting one in French and then a translation in English. Usually I understand it the first time around, but I am not complaining.
“You deserve to hear every nice thing twice,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “Sorry I’m late,” he adds.
