Alain is half nodding when he suddenly pauses and says, “Ah. I see the problem. Unfortunately, Madame Mebel, you seem to have been registered at our sister school.”
“Sister school?”
“This is the flagship school. We have other branches all over the world. New York, Madrid, Geneva, Rome, and—”
Mebel scrambles to try to keep up. So far, none of these other options sound bad. She could see herself dressed in head-to-toe Balenciaga in Spain, or wearing five Chopards on each arm in Geneva, or dressed in Dolce & Gabbana in Rome, why not? “Which one did I get accepted into?”
Alain grimaces, as though he’s sorry to deliver bad news. “England, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, that’s okay!” Mebel says with genuine happiness. “I love London. The West End theater, the afternoon teas, the—”
“It’s not in London, I’m afraid.”
“It’s not? Where is it?”
“I believe the place is called Cowley.”
“Cowley?” Mebel has never heard of such a name. “Where is that?”
“It’s as good as in Oxford.”
Mebel narrows her eyes. “As good as? Is itinOxford?”
Alain makes a seesawing motion with his head and goes, “Eh. Thereabouts.”
“I don’t understand. Why your other branches are in big cities, but why the English one is in this cow place?”
“Cowley.”
“Cowley, right. Why Cowley?”
“London is very expensive,” Alain says simply.
Mebel takes a deep breath. As the wife of a real estate tycoon, she knows all about location.
“And we weren’t sure if the English would be interested in signing up to a French culinary school in England when they can just hop on the Eurostar and take the course in Paris. The decision to open a branch in England was, as the English might call it, ‘a bit of a lark.’ ”
“I see.” And now she has fallen for the lark.
“But you’ll like our Cowley campus, I’m sure. And Oxford itself is a gorgeous city. I’m opening a restaurant there next month because I love the place. I have no doubt you’ll have a grand time there.”
Mebel takes a deep breath. As much as she would like tobelieve this handsome man, she also knows that she does not belong in a place called Cowley. “Okay. I’m sure you can fix this and enroll me here? In Paris? Since I am already here.” She gives him her most winning smile and gestures at the mountain of Louis Vuitton suitcases blocking the hallway.
“I can most certainly do that.”
“Oh, thank you—”
“But our current term is fully booked, with a very long waiting list. The earliest you can start here is in a year and half’s time.”
Mebel’s face goes slack. Well, since she did have a forehead lift in South Korea a year ago, her face remains perky as ever, but on the inside, things are plummeting.
“Would you like me to put you on the waitlist?”
A light bulb goes on in her head. She is, after all, Indonesian. She knows how these things work. She dips into her black Cannage lambskin Dior bag and slips out a few hundred euros, which she hands to Alain subtly. “Maybe you can find place for me for this term? I am not going to be doing four-year degree, I just need to be here for one semester, just to learn enough to impress my husband.”
Alain looks at her downturned hand, under which the bills are hidden, and clasps her hand with both of his. “Madame, please, I cannot do this.” He pushes her hand gently before leaning back in his seat.
Aiya. Is there anything more infuriating than people who refuse to let a little bribery grease the wheels of life? When Mebel finally finds her voice, it comes out in a heartbroken whisper. “I must get culinary degree soon.”
