Chapter 3
"Âllo?"
Guillaume sighed at the sound of her voice, but there was no time to flirt as he watched Arnaud zoom down the driveway in his Porsche Boxster. Fortunately, he had good news: “L'oiseau vole au nord.”
‘Oh, thank goodness,” was Marie’s reply.
“But I’m not taking him today. He’s coming in all by himself.”
Marie paused and bit her lip. “So she’s going out? You sure?”
“Making her way out the door as I speak,” Guillaume said. “I have to go. Love you!”
“Love you more,” Marie replied.
Hanging up, she yelled out the day’s most important announcement, “The bird is flying north, everyone. I repeat: the bird is flying north!”
Relief flooded the entire office and everyone breathed easier. Everything would be alright. There’d be no Mr. du Lac breathing down everyone’s neck and demanding absolute perfection... or else. Beside her, Olivie let out an audible “woof” and twirled in her office chair as she pumped the air with her arms.
But not Marie. She sat quietly at her desk, her cellphone still held against her ear as she stared off into space. She hoped everything would be alright with Guillaume. That all depended on Sophie, of course. Not even Olivie knew, and that was as it should be, for Sophie was an extremely delicate and sensitive matter.
Arnaud arrived about an hour later, proving Guillaume to be absolutely trustworthy, as always. The bird was not just in a good mood, he was in a rare, fantastic one.
“Bonjour, Mr. du Lac,” said the woman at reception as she stood up ramrod straight.
“Bonjour, madame,” Arnaud replied with a smile. “Lovely morning, non?”
“Eh... ah...” The woman looked out the floor-length windows of the reception and saw the light drizzle and heavy clouds which promised heavy thunderstorms. “Eh, yes, Mr. du Lac. Lovely morning, indeed,” she said in her best deadpan expression.
“I love the rain,” Arnaud practically hummed. “Washes away all the dirt and waters all the parks in our fair city.” He segued into a hum and a smile as he headed off toward the elevators.
“It’s a trick!” said the other receptionist as soon as the elevators shut behind him. “Ooh, we’d better be careful. I bet you it’s a trick!”
Instead of responding, the first woman called Marie. “I think there’s something wrong. The bird actually said ‘hi’ to us and hummed.”
“He hummed?” Marie squawked, forgetting for a moment what the word meant.
“Hummed,” the receptionist replied. “As in hmm-hmm-hmmm!”
“Oh dear.”
“But what does it mean, Marie?”
“No idea. Stay tuned,” and she hung up.
She was about to call Guillaume for an explanation, but the elevator chime told her the bird had arrived. Olivie sat up straight and did her best to look busier than usual while Marie grabbed her appointment book and stood up to greet her boss. “Bon...”
“Bonjour, Marie,” Arnaud hummed. “Olivie? How are you today?”
Olivie gulped, surprised he even knew her name. He usually only spoke to Marie. Was this some kind of a trick? A trap? Terrified, she looked at Marie in a panic. Marie’s response was to wave an encouraging hand at the shocked assistant while silently mouthing, bonjour!
“Eh... b-b-bonjour, Mr. du Lac... uhmmm...”
Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Marie began reading out an itinerary to distract him from Olivie’s barely coherent mumbling as they entered his office. Just before she shut the door behind her, she managed a final warning glare at Olivie that said, stop panicking!
*****
“Amanda?” the young trainee said as she popped her head into the lab.
Amanda loved the way the French pronounced her name: Ah-maan-DAH, with a nasalized “n” and the stress always on the last syllable. “Yes, Nanette?” she replied.
“You have a visitor in the lobby,” Nanette said by way of explanation before popping her head back out the door.
Probably Sav, Amanda thought as she looked at the clock. It was lunchtime. Taking off her lab coat and gloves, she made her way to the lobby, wondering why her friend was there. They usually met at their bench before making their way to lunch.
“A gentleman to see you,” said the receptionist, gesturing with his chin before looking back down at his screen.
She turned in the direction that he had pointed to and gaped.
“I was hoping you’d have lunch with me,” said Arnaud as he walked up to her.
She was amazed at just how happy she was to see him. She was also amazed just to see him there. What came out, instead, was, “Arnaud!? The hell are you doing here?”
His slight, cocky grin fell as he stopped. “I’m sorry, I should have called. But I didn’t know how to reach you by phone.”
Amanda imagined shooting herself in the head as she smiled. “Yes. We were too tired to exchange numbers, weren’t we?” she replied teasingly. “I’d love to have lunch with you, but I already have a date. But you’re welcome to join us. Come on,” she gestured to the main door as she made her way to it, not bothering to wait for him.
Trying to put a brave face on, he followed. “A date? Already?”
“What do you mean, ‘already?’”
He shrugged.
“After lunch, I’m going back to work, not having desert with you in the car, kapish?” Amanda stopped. “Which reminds me... is it true? Are you really a nobleman?”
“I’m a du Lac. My family goes way back. Not that it matters today. I mean in this day and age.”
“It doesn’t, no. Which is why I’m treating for lunch. Come on, then. Sav hates to be kept waiting.”
“Sav?”
Savitri got to their bench just as Amanda did and was equally surprised to see Arnaud. “Well, well, well... if it isn’t his majesty! Eh... should I bow?”
“Sav!”
“And how should we address you? Duke? Earl? Baron?”
“Madame,” Arnaud said as he made an exaggerated bow. “That isn’t necessary.” Privately, he was relieved that Amanda’s date wasn’t with another man. “And simply Arnaud, will do. So ladies, where to? My car awaits.”
Savitri grinned, “We’ll walk if you don’t mind, Simply Arnaud. It’s just around the corner.”
Arnaud put on his best smile even though he was a little annoyed. He wasn’t used to being treated so casually, but if putting up with the Indian woman’s flippant attitude was what it took to spend time with Amanda, then so be it.
Savitri was right when she said it was just around the corner. The place was a small Indian restaurant that sat barely twenty people, but it was clean, Spartan, and quiet. It had none of the garish colors and annoying Bollywood music many played on tinny speakers.
Arnaud was surprised. He thought he knew the area well, but he’d never even noticed this place. “How long has this been here?” he asked Savitri.
“This is the start of our fourth year,” said the European woman who handed them their menus.
He turned to her. “You own this place?”
“My husband and I. He does the cooking. He’s Indian,” she explained defensively, anxious to prove that the food was genuine.
“It is genuine,” Savitri said in the woman’s defense. “Trust me, I’d know. This is Lisa, by the way. Lisa, this is Arnaud du...”
“Arnaud,” he cut her off. “I like your place, Lisa. It’s beautiful.”
Lisa beamed, pleased at having had her establishment’s credentials confirmed by what was obviously a bona fide Indian. “I hope you’ll like the food, as well.”
“Oh he will, Lisa,” Savitri insisted. Having ordered the food, she smirked at Arnaud. “I’m dying to know all about you.”
“So am I,” Amanda added. “You know what we do, so let’s start there. What do you do?”
“Ladies, this isn’t fair. It’s two against one.”
“You can take it,” Amanda insisted. Suddenly realizing how else that could be understood as, she blushed. “I mean...”
Arnaud grinned.
“Perhaps I should have mine for takeout?” the Indian woman suggested.
“No!” Arnaud protested, though he thought it was a great idea.
Amanda shook her head emphatically despite thinking the same thing he was. “We girls have to stick together. So, Arnaud. What do you do? You do work, don’t you?”
“Yes. I own several businesses. Mostly construction, but I also trade in precious metals.”
Savitri nodded. “Busy man, you are. Impressive. So, how’s business given the lousy state of the economy?”
Arnaud sighed and the women exhaled in sympathy, despite not knowing the details. To his surprise, he was actually enjoying himself. He wasn’t used to being treated and spoken to so informally. His employees were all terrified of him, while most of his social equals tended to be more serious. Still others kept their conversations limited mostly to business. That people could be genuinely interested in him was something new.
Despite France’s avowed republican ideals, the aristocracy was still something that fascinated the average French man and woman. When they heard his surname, most still tended to automatically fawn over him.
It was Amanda’s turn. “And where do you work?” At his reply, both women sat up straight. “But that’s just down the street from us! And you still took a car to visit us??”
“I was hoping to take you to a restaurant a little further.”
Savitri sighed. “Now I really think I should have my lunch for takeout.”
“Absolutely not,” Amanda insisted.
“No,” Arnaud piped in. “Please eat with us. Amanda’s treating me.” That, too, was something he was grappling with. It had never happened before.
“Never let it be said that I’ve never wined and dined royalty,” Amanda beamed.
He groaned. “Could we please stop with the royalty thing?”
“Yes, your majesty,” Savitri said with a straight face, her palms joined together before her. “As you wish.”
Amanda couldn’t resist, either. “Agreed, your worshipful lordship.” She twirled a napkin before her as she made a bow.
Arnaud sighed, leaned forward, and lightly banged his head on the table as the women laughed. “Someone kill me, please,” he moaned.
They all laughed.
*****
Arnaud stepped into his building humming an off key tune with a slight smile on his lips.
“Bonjour, Mr. du Lac,” the severe-looking head receptionist said almost tentatively.
“Bonjour, madame.” Instead of heading straight to the elevators, he stopped, turned, and approached the front desk.
The women behind the counter gulped. “Yes, monsieur?” the head receptionist asked, doing her best to hide her nervousness while the two others with her gaped.
“Madame, how long have you worked here, may I ask?” He bent down to look at her breasts; or so it looked that way. “Tiberghien? Madame Tiberghien?”
The woman, who’d stood to greet her boss, swayed on her feet as she nodded. Despite stringent laws that protected employees in France, Arnaud fired people at whim and got away with it. There had been two terminations in the last year, alone, both of which happened when the bird flew south.
“S-s-seventeen, seventeen years, Mr. du Lac. I started here when your father was still... still...”
Arnaud nodded. “Thank you for all your service.” He sounded like he meant it, too. He turned to the other women who nervously gave their names. “I trust you all had a good lunch?”
“Uh, y-yes, Mr. du Lac,” Mme. Tiberghien stammered. “Very good.”
“I’m so glad. There’s a lovely Indian vegetarian restaurant called the Raj on Rue Linné, just at the corner of the MNHN? You should try it sometime.”
“Eh, oui, monsieur. We certainly will since you recommend it so highly.”
“I do! Well, good day, then,” he said before heading off toward the elevators.
Tiberghien picked up her cellphone and called Marie. “The bird has gone lulu.”
“Lulu? Explain!”
“You wouldn’t believe what just happened, woman. He asked for our names and recommended an Indian restaurant.”
Marie was about to demand an explanation when the elevator chimed. Arnaud had arrived. He breezed in, still humming out of tune. He smiled at Marie and greeted Olivie by name, sending the mousy blond into a wide-eyed panic. Not that he noticed as he raved about some Indian restaurant just down the corner before stepping into his office.
Marie sighed and smiled knowingly. “You know, Olivie? I think the bird will be flying north for some time to come.”
“Madame?”
Marie shook her head. She’d worked for the man’s father and knew that he still struggled to get out of the senior du Lac’s massive shadow. It’s why he was such a perfectionist. Arnaud had been at the helm of the du Lac Empire for almost ten years, now, and despite being forty-five, he was still being compared to his father.
“Never mind,” Marie said as she got back to work. If Olivie couldn’t see what she saw, then all the better. But others wouldn’t be as dense, Marie knew. And before long, tongues would wag.