“Good morning, Mama.” She kissed her mother twice on the cheek. They kept their Parisian greeting, despite moving south permanently when they retired.
“Bonjour, ma chérie. Papa is in the kitchen making breakfast.”
Glowing, her mom wrapped her in the warmest hug. She’d missed the embrace of her family. Her two older brothers were scattered abroad and rarely had time for holidays.
The scent of rich, Colombian coffee and fresh bread tempted her into the rustic kitchen. Her father emerged red-faced from the stove, with a loaf tin between his oversized oven gloves. “You’re awake! Just in time, darling. Sit and eat with us.”
Sylvie glanced at the clock.Merde. Is that the time?
“The downtime is obviously doing you the world of good, my dear. Now, drink your coffee and relax.” Her mom placed a perfectly sized ceramic cup in her hand.
Sylvie admired its uneven glaze, imagining the potter’s hands creating the dimples around its body. “It is lovely having a week without classes.” She yawned, releasing the remains of her fatigue. “It’s a shame I have a pile of mid-terms to mark, otherwise I could really put my feet up.”
“It won’t be too long until Christmas break.” Her mom passed ajar of homemade jam to her dad. “Can you open this, sweetheart?”
He effortlessly released the sealed lid. “You loosened it for me.” His chuckle filled the kitchen with a joyful easiness. “Your mother and I are visiting Sebastien in Strasbourg for the holidays. Would you spend a week or so here to look after the dog?”
Right on cue, their elderly black lab, Henri, lumbered across the kitchen floor, sniffing for any breakfast scraps.
“He’s really too old for the journey now, and we’ll end up stopping every half an hour for bathroom breaks,” her mum said, shooing him toward the hearth. “In your bed, Henri.”
Sylvie smiled. The old boy had joined her parents’ empty nest after she’d moved from their Parisian home, but their family had never been without a canine companion of one breed or another. “What do you think, Henri? Will you keep this old girl company over Christmas?”
Her mom’s face fell. “Oh, darling, don’t say it like that. Why don’t you come to your brother’s with us?”
“Don’t be silly, I’m just joking. I look forward to the peace and quiet.” Sylvie shrugged. “And there’s no way I’m driving all the way north just to drive all the way back here for the start of term.”
“Well, invite some friends to stay, won’t you?” Her mom looked toward her dad. “It’s gorgeous here over the winter, you know that. Who might come with you?”
Sylvie stirred her coffee more than it needed. There was no long list of names to reel off. The truth was, she’d become more and more isolated since her move from Paris. Old colleagues, once friends, had simply faded from her favorites. Acquaintances were just that. There weren’t that many people she enjoyed the company of so much that she’d invite them to stay. Especially for a holiday as intense as Christmas. “I could invite Elda and Charlie and the boys?”
Her mom clapped. “Of course, that would be perfect. The boys will love the garden, and you can take them to the beach.”
Sylvie’s dad took a deep breath and unfolded a towel to dry hishands. “There’s no one more local you could bring along?”
An image of Ade exploded in Sylvie’s mind. “No,” she said. “Plus, Elda and I are overdue a meet-up. We still haven’t pinned down the detail, so this will be perfect.”
“It’s a long way for her and Charlie to come with the little ones, no?” he asked.
“Well, they’re both adults; they can decide for themselves, can’t they?” Sylvie’s shoulders stiffened as her defenses rose. Why was her dad questioning her on this? Because he worried about her. He worried that she was lonely. Despite living closer to them, she hadn’t made time this year to visit as much as she’d said she would. Maybe he was right. Her life wasn’t brimming with friends and social engagements. It had become a routine of work, eat, and sleep.
“I’m going to take my breakfast in the garden.” Sylvie gathered a selection of bread and meats and opened the French doors to the terrace. The humble cottage sat in oversized grounds, and Sylvie chose an old bistro table in the sun on the east side. The leaves on the small olive tree had faded, and the stack of bamboo canes leaning against the wall were sun-bleached from a whole season outdoors. The summer crops had been harvested from the raised beds, leaving the autumn stalwarts room to grow another inch or so before they were plucked from the ground too.
Autumn often brought a fresh start, the chance to buy a new pencil case and polish her shoes for the term. Sylvie closed her eyes. The reality was she was coasting as much as she was last year, as much as she had been in Paris.
The fast-track promotion she was promised hadn’t come through yet. She was hanging on the expectation that she could just do a little more… A little more work, more supervision, more hours.
She wasn’t sure she had much more to give. Nearer to forty than thirty, she’d expected to be settled in a flat, a steady relationship, and maybe even a family of her own.
Why was she thinking about this now? She looked around the ample garden her parents had had the foresight to invest in so many years ago. They’d had a plan. They’d had their life in the city, raised their children in one of the best places in the world, and then retired to their second home to enjoy their twilight years.
It was the perfect place for children to run around. She could picture Elijah and Arlo having sword fights on the lawn. She took a selfie and sent it to Elda, along with an invitation for Christmas. It was something to look forward to in the absence of any firm plans of her own.
Henri padded across the terrace and slumped at her feet, bringing her instant comfort. “Hey, boy.” She tickled his head and as he raised his chin to her, she took another photo.
Hey, I have a friend this week. You’d like him.
Three dots showed that Ade was writing a reply.
