Itâs also cultural â¦â
But Mary-Whitney would probably never change her lifestyle. And why should she? To get her Spaulding back? No, he was the one who simply needed to stop his childish behaviour. But if he was really unhappy with Mary-Whitney there was little to be done.
However, the woman was a fighter.
âIâm afraid that I need your help, Anne-Sophie. Can you teach me how to cook healthy French food? I could perhaps cook on the weekends.â
I knew that at this point Anne-Sophie would have liked to shout a loud â Ãa ne va pas, non? â But she was too flabbergasted by the question and still feeling rather proud to be French at that precise moment. Instead she remained silent, waiting to hear what was to come next.
âIf I prepare the kind of food my Spaulding discovered thanks to you, Iâll have a chance of winning him back, even if I do gain weight.â
Actually, your Spaulding might like it if you became a little plumper, I thought. It might remind him of his curvy Latina prima donna.
âI donât know about that â¦â Anne-Sophie mumbled.
âIt probably seems surprising, but itâs not that stupid an idea, when you think of it. Iâll pay you good money for it,â Mary-Whitney added. She had clearly recovered some of the self-control a multi-tasking superwoman of the new millennium is supposed to have. âAnd you could give me advice about a French-style makeover.â
âI donât want your money.â
That was the very answer I would have given myself.
âWell, think about it. Hereâs all the information you need to reach me: emails, home and work phone numbers, fax, cell phone ⦠Just think about it.â
Mary-Whitney finished her double Bourbon, got up eagerly and left a fifty-dollar bill on the table.
âThatâs for the Bourbon and more champagne. Celebrate Valentineâs Day on me!â And the asparagus-shaped woman with her unstyled hair, baggy dress and overlong worn-out coat laughed once more as if to show that she had completely regained her strength. Was it the effect of the Bourbon? Or the thought that she had found the solution to getting Spaulding back by believing that Anne-Sophie would help her?
She vanished as suddenly as she had appeared.
âWas it a dream, or should I say a nightmare?â asked Anne-Sophie, pulling herself together while signalling to the waitress for another round of drinks. Then, looking at the fifty-dollar bill on the table, she exclaimed, âSomeone is going to get a big tip tonight â¦â
âActually, that was all quite funny,â I ventured.
Anne-Sophie frowned at me, but then started giggling.
âYes, the whole thing is laughable, but what am I going to do now?â
âIgnore Spaulding at work from now on. Nothing needs to be discussed further. And donât worry, I have a feeling you wonât have to do anything. Youâll never see that woman again.â
âGood. Jessica, thank you, I trust your judgement as usual.â Anne-Sophie leaned over to hug me.
âNo problem. Sheâs really something, isnât she? No wonder Spaulding wants some time off from her.â
âEnough of all this foolishness! Dear friend, pass me the chocolates. Iâm suddenly craving these sweet treats for the intense pleasure and comfort I need right now.â
I took the chocolates out of my bag and ceremoniously handed them over to her.
âHmm, champagne and chocolates, at the top of my number-one city in the world, qui dit mieux ?â I said, smiling.
Pierre Hurel was back at the piano by then, playing a popular piece of his, âThe Crushâ â so appropriate, I thought, my eyes following the pretty new waitress as she moved from table to table.
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A year has passed. Iâm at the Zenith Bar waiting for Anne-Sophie, just like every Tuesday night. Tomorrow will be another Valentineâs Day, and for