Sammy rolls his eyes. “I’m just being realistic, Mami. If I could, I would obviously finance all of your shopping sprees, but I can’t afford to just yet, okay? So in the meantime, can you please be more careful about your spending?”
It’s probably the worst thing anyone has ever said to her, but somehow, Mebel manages to keep herself from breaking down. Mostly by moving her wrist a tad so she can feel the diamonds and rubies rattling in her watch, which soothes her.My god, she thinks,whoever invented these Happy Sport watches knew what they were doing. These things are much better than Prozac.
The acceptance letter comes in within two days, and that Sunday, Mebel stands at the front door of her mansion saying goodbye to her family. She’s all packed and has four large suitcases and two carry-ons. Plus a hatbox, which contains her bouffant wig.
“I really don’t think you should bring all this stuff with you to Paris, Mami,” Sammy says, bouncing Aelgifu on one hip.
“My goodness, Sammy,” Mebel says. “When did you turn into the counterweight to my joy?” She turns to Hannah, who’s carrying Freydis. “Is he always like this?”
Hannah smiles. “He’s just concerned, Mami. He wants you to be okay.”
“I will be okay as soon as I finish this culinary degree and win your father back.” Mebel crouches down so she is eye level with Luciana. “Lulu dear, you’re going to look after my Dior sunglasses collection well, aren’t you?”
“I told you not to give them to her,” Sammy says. “She’s five.”
Luciana lowers the massive sunglasses and gives Mebel a conspiratorial look over them.
“I was four when I got my first pair,” Mebel says, winking at Luciana, who smiles back at her.
“It’s quite the collection,” Hannah says.
“Feel free to wear them. But not the DiorClub. You don’t have the cheekbones for it.”
Hannah rolls her eyes but remains smiling. “Have fun in Paris, Mami.”
“Oh, you know I will.”
“Not too much fun though,” Sammy mutters.
As Mebel steps into the waiting car, she overhears Hannah saying, “That city isn’t going to know what hit it.” Mebel doesn’t bother with a retort. And, anyway, Hannah wasn’t wrong about that.
Chapter 4
Paris! The city of loveand wonder. Mebel feels the magic as soon as she steps off the plane and onto the tarmac—well, not on the actual tarmac. Singapore Airlines would never allow their passengers to deplane onto the tarmac. But as soon as she steps off the airplane and onto the gangway, there it is, that sensation of infinite possibilities fizzing from the soles of her feet all the way up her legs. Few places have this effect on her. Los Angeles is one, New York is another. Tokyo. Dubai. Shanghai. Okay, so actually, a lot of places have this effect on Mebel. And Paris, thankfully, is one of them.
It is before dawn on a warm August morning, and Mebel gazes out the window as she makes her way toward customs. She can already tell it’s going to be a bright, sunlit day, as though the city has ensured good weather for her arrival. She looks around with a smile, and it seems to her that everyone is in equally high spirits. When it’s her turn to go through customs,Mebel says, “Bonjour!” and the officer greets her warmly, welcoming her to France. And by the time she gets to baggage claim, her bags are all out and waiting for her, as though by magic. Sammy has arranged for a driver to pick her up right outside the baggage claim, and she watches gratefully as he lifts her backbreakingly heavy suitcases into the Benz, making a note to tip him generously.
Paris is just as gorgeous as Mebel remembers. Everything about the city is dripping with art and opulence. Even the balconies are beautiful, made out of wrought iron painstakingly curved into intricate designs. Whenever the car passes by a man urinating on the side of the street, which has happened three times in the last fifteen minutes, Mebel averts her eyes and focuses on yet another beautiful sight. That’s life, isn’t it? It’s all about ignoring the less than sightly bits, like a man shaking off the last drops of pee on a sidewalk, and choosing to focus on the good, like, oh, those bright red flowers hanging off that windowsill. Life is what you make of it, Mebel thinks to herself. And she chooses to make it perfect.
The Saint Honoré School of Culinary Arts is located on Rue de la Ville-l’Évêque, just blocks away from the Hermès store. Mebel practices saying, “Ville-l’Évêque,” under her breath several times until she’s confident that she won’t embarrass herself when she says it out loud. Against Sammy’s advice, Mebel insisted on staying at the school’s dorms.
“It won’t be like the Four Seasons, Mami,” Sammy said.
To which Mebel replied, “Well, of course not, but last holiday your father took me to that ghastly hotel in Zurich, do you remember?”
“You mean Sofitel?”
“Exactly.”
“I really wouldn’t call it ghast—”
“And I survived!” Mebel announced triumphantly. “I can survive a Parisian dorm.”
And when the car arrives at their destination and she alights, daintily stepping out onto the sidewalk in her new Ferragamo shoes, Mebel knows she’s going to do more than survive. She’s going to thrive. In front of her is the most beautiful building she’s ever seen. It’s grandiose, the walls adorned with elaborate details, flowers, and medallions, all built lovingly out of stone. The enormous glass display at the front bears the words “The Saint Honoré School of Culinary Arts, est. 1901,” and inside the display case is an array of perfectly baked breads and intricately designed pastries worthy of a museum. Pastries that Mebel has no doubt she will be whipping up in no time. Imagine the look on Henk’s face when she presents him a—whatever one of these thingies is called.
Mebel turns when the driver, panting hard, lugs the last of her LV bags onto the sidewalk. “Ah, merci beaucoup!” She gives him a hundred-euro note, and he does a double take, then says, “Madame, would you like me to assist you with taking these bags inside?”
My goodness, Mebel thinks.The French are so friendly!“Yes, s’il vous plaît!” She pronounces it “silver plate” and chooses not to notice the way the driver winces at the way she has butchered his beautiful language. Though Mebel’s first language is Indonesian, her second and arguably most universal language is cash, and she speaks it fluently, without any accent.
