The House

“I enjoyed it, too. It's quite a story,” he said quietly. “She never told me all that before. It all happened before I was born.” And then, as she got out of the car, he reached out and touched her hand. “I'm going back to Paris tomorrow. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight? There's only a local bistro, but it's fairly good. I'd enjoy your company, Sarah. I had a good time with you today.”

“So did I. Are you sure you're not tired of me?” She felt as though she had already abused his hospitality and didn't want to do so again.

“Not yet. If I get tired of you, I'll bring you back.” He laughed at her.

“Then I'd like to very much.”

“Excellent. I'll pick you up at eight.”

She went upstairs and lay on her bed after that. She had a lot to think about. She couldn't get Lilli out of her head. She felt haunted by her, after listening to the story Pierre's grandmother had told, and he said he felt the same way when he came back to pick Sarah up in the Rolls.

The bistro he took her to nearby was simple, and the food was plain but good. He had brought his own bottle of wine. He regaled her with tales of his travels, and adventures on his yacht when he sailed around the world. He was interesting to talk to and fun to be with. She felt as though she were on another planet as she laughed and talked with him. It was a delightful evening for both of them. He was fifteen years older than she, but had a youthful outlook on life, probably because he had never married or had children. He said he was still a child himself.

“And you, my dear,” he scolded her over the last of their wine, which was yet another exquisite vintage, “are far too serious, from what I can see. You need to have more fun, and take life more lightly. You work too hard, and now you are killing yourself on your house. When do you play?” She thought about it and then shrugged her shoulders.

“I don't. The house is play for me now. But you're right. I probably don't play enough.” Sarah suspected correctly that no one could accuse Pierre of that.

“Life is short. You should start playing now.”

“That's why I'm here, in France. When I go back, I'm moving into Lilli's house,” she said, looking happy.

“It's not Lilli's house, Sarah. It's yours. Sarah's house. She led her life, she did exactly what she wanted to do, no matter who she hurt or who she left behind. She was a woman who knew her own mind, and always got what she wanted. You can tell that, listening to her story. I'm sure she was very beautiful, but probably very selfish. Men always seem to fall madly in love with selfish women, not the kind ones, or the good ones, or the ones who are good for them. Don't be too good, Sarah… you'll get hurt.” She wondered if he had been, or if he did the hurting. But she suspected he had Lilli pegged correctly. She abandoned her children and husband. It was still hard for Sarah to understand. And Mimi probably understood it even less. Lilli had been her mother. “Who is waiting for you when you go home?” Pierre asked her, and Sarah thought about it.

“My grandmother, my mother, friends.” She thought of Jeff as she said it. “Does that sound too pathetic?” It was a little embarrassing spelling it out, but he had figured it out himself anyway that afternoon. He could sense that there was no man in her life, and she was at ease about it, which he thought was sad, given her looks and age.

“No, it sounds sweet. Maybe too sweet. I think you need to be harder on your men.”

“I don't have any men.” She laughed at what he said.

“You will. The right one will come.”

“I had the wrong one for four years,” she said quietly. She and Pierre were becoming friends. She liked him, although she could sense that he was something of a playboy. But he had been kind to her. And fatherly, in a way.

“That's too long to keep a bad one. What do you want?” He was taking her under his wing. She was an innocent in his eyes. And he sounded like Santa Claus, asking for her wish list.

“I don't know what I want anymore. Companionship, friendship, laughter, love, someone who sees things as I do, and cares about the same things. Someone who won't hurt me or disappoint me … someone who treats me well. I want kindness more than passion. I want someone who loves me and who I love.”

“That's a lot to ask for,” he said seriously. “I'm not sure you can find all that.”

“When I do, they're married,” she said matter-of-factly.