I turn back to face my desk and open my laptop, signaling the end of the conversation.
On Friday morningat nine thirty, I walk down to Garage du Rallye. The meeting with Louis is at eleven at a place called Vallon Pont d’Arc, which is about an hour south of here. We don’t have a contract for Étienne to sign yet, but with my assurance, Jackson has agreed we can press ahead and commission Louis if he’s interested. Jackson is in awe of his credentials and thinks it’ll be great to have someone with his background tied to our design.
Étienne is toiling away on the black 205 GTi on the scissor lift when I arrive at the wide garage door. Music is blaring from a small radio. He’s wearing petrol-blue overalls.
He hasn’t seen or heard me, so I stand and watch him for amoment, noting the fierce concentration on his face as he fiddles with something on the underside of the car. A bang from the other side of the garage makes me jump and I realize that there’s another mechanic at work, changing tires.
When I return my attention to Étienne, it’s in time to see him bump his head on the exhaust as he registers my presence. He straightens up and swears under his breath.
“I haven’t done that in so long,” he says ruefully, rubbing at the sore spot. He grabs a rag and turns down the radio, shouting, “Léo!” across the room, just as another bang sounds from that side of the garage.
Léo looks over as he rolls a wheel out of the way. He’s baby-faced, in his early twenties at a guess.
Étienne says something in French, prompting Léo to wave at me.“Salut!”
“Salut,” I call back, translating Étienne’s instructions toSay hi to Grace.
Étienne pushes his hair back from his brow with his forearm in a move that I’ve seen before. He checks his watch.
“I lost track of time. Coffee?” he asks as he unfastens the top button of his overalls. “I need to jump in the shower, but I’ll only be ten minutes.” He calls out some instructions to Léo in French and then beckons for me to follow him downstairs.
“Have you been at work for long this morning?” I ask as we walk through the studio spaces, past the white Peugeot with its red trim and the dark blue Renault with its flared wheel arches and yellow fog lights.
“Since five,” he replies, continuing to strip down his overalls as he walks.
“I thought you sold this,” I say as we enter the third room where the red rally car sits.
“I did. He’s collecting it tomorrow.”
“Will you put something else here in its place?”
He nods and opens his apartment door. “The black GTi, when it’s ready.”
“Is that when you’ll have another party?” I ask, following him inside. “That’s the point of them, right, to show your cars?”
“Yep.” He shrugs his overalls off his shoulders, revealing a tight-fitting gray T-shirt beneath, and goes into his small kitchen, turning on the coffee machine.
I wander over to the giant window. The sun is behind us, but there’s so much light in here already.
“I bet it gets hot in here in the afternoon,” I say over the sound of the coffee machine gurgling as I look out at the distant mountains.
“It does,” he confirms. “All those windows open up.”
I look more closely and see vertical hinges between the Crittall-style window frames. Beyond the glass is a wide patio, which was barely visible the night of his party. Weeds grow up through the cracks between paving slabs and there are two deck chairs.
“Do you sit out there to watch the sunset?” I ask.
He has the same view as Mellie, only Mellie will see the sun set a little later as she’s higher in the hills.
“Sometimes.”
I start at the sound of his voice, right behind me. I spin around and accept the coffee. He smells of engine oil and his fingernails are dirty, his eyes bright beneath his dark lashes. Our fingers brush as he releases the cup and goes to open the door. “You can sit out there now, if you like. I won’t be long, but it’s nice at this time in the morning.”
While he goes and gets ready, I step outside onto the patio.The opposite hills are bathed in sunlight and I can hear the sound of the river rushing over rocks in the valley below. Birds chirp in nearby trees as I stand there in the cool shade, drinking it all in.
I glance at the deck chairs, but decide against sitting down as I don’t know if they’re grubby and I’m wearing white shorts and a pale-yellow blouse. I wonder who he sits there with. He has a lot of friends, but who is he closest to? Did he sit there with Eve? Did he carry her out here when she was very ill and gently and lovingly place her in one of the chairs, as I saw him do with his mother?
I swallow the lump in my throat with the last of my coffee and go to take my cup back to the kitchen. The bathroom door is open and when I glance up at the mezzanine level, I’m in time to see Étienne pull a light green T-shirt over his head. I jolt to a stop as his tanned back disappears beneath the fabric and then he glances over his shoulder and catches me staring.
