She nods wisely like a sage. ‘Then it’s time to double down. Pause all new applications for the last two weeks of July and possibly August? Let the furore dry up. Those insta-famous types will soon move to the next craze.’
While the idea is anathema to me, it might be the best way forward right now. I can’t keep up with demand, and ferreting out fakes is a huge time suck. ‘You’re right. I’ll do that. If they are serious about finding love, they’ll wait. Or reapply, right?’
‘Oui.’
My heart sinks at the thought of halting memberships, albeit briefly, even if it is the only option. But I’ll honour those who have applied already, if they’re in it for the right reasons.
‘And what will you do about Emmanuel Roux?’
I blow out a breath. ‘What can I do? He hasn’t responded to my email. The phone number he provided isn’t in service any more. I’ve reached out to Émilienne as myself, not as Cupid, but she hasn’t replied to my texts and her phone is always off. She does that when she goes on retreats but the timing of it feels more like she’s hiding, from the press, the scrutiny.’
Geneviève takes a long sip of mimosa. ‘Reach out to her as Paris Cupid by email?’
I contemplate it. ‘Oui. Why don’t I formulate a sort of… follow-up survey for her and Emmanuel, asking if they’re happy with their match and whether they had any concerns, that kind of thing? Emmanuel will most likely ignore it, like he has with the previous email, but it will look legitimate if they both get the same survey if it comes up in conversation between them.’
‘Parfait.You could add all of your membership rules again at the end of the document. It might jog their memories and she may just remind Emmanuel that the whole premise behind Paris Cupid was keeping the details of matches private and being honest.’
Paris Cupid has a handful of rules to protect members. First, they must use post office boxes for correspondence rather than give total strangers their home address. Second is to be truthful. I go further but it’s all common sense advice spelled out so that everyone is aware of their responsibilities.
The rules clearly stipulate that every member must be honest about, but not limited to: age, job, name and relationship status. If members don’t care to share that information with their match so early in the process, that’s acceptable too, but theydo have to share it with me, not only so I find them a suitable partner, but also because it’s part of the background work I do on them to make sure what they say correlates with who they are. It’s understandable if Emmanuel Roux has social media accounts under another name for relative anonymity due to his celebrity status, but he should have disclosed that information with Paris Cupid.
‘Good idea, Geneviève. I’ll do that tonight.’
In the hall, Guillaume arrives to deliver stock and greets Benoit with a wave and stops to chat. I presume Guillaume has managed to find some stamp collections on his travels after Benoit called and introduced himself on the phone two weeks ago. I hope it will work out well for both of them and I’m happy that Benoit has another source to help find stock for his stall.
He and Guillaume chatter excitedly about the finds from the south of France. Benoit’s face lights up when Guillaume produces a stamp collection in an old binder. Really, Benoit is so wholesome.
‘You know the quiet ones are also pretty good between the sheets.’ Geneviève nods towards Benoit. At least I hope it’s Benoit she’s alluding to and not Guillaume, who is at least thirty years my senior and about the same age as Geneviève. I’ve thought of setting them up before but Guillaume is much too traditional for her.
‘Why is it always about sex with you!’
She shrugs. ‘It’s good exercise.’
I can only shake my head. I’m eager to take delivery of my own treasures, so I go to take my leave. ‘Talk soon.’
‘But your drink?’ Geneviève is not one to leave a glass half full.
I take a long sip of my mimosa, suffering a rush to the head drinking alcohol in the designated coffee hour. ‘Au revoir.’
I give Guillaume a wave to let him know I’m ready to take delivery while Benoit pores over a stamp collection. He’s lost in a world where those tiny rectangles of paper reign supreme.
They wrap up their conversation, and Benoit says, ‘Pardon, Lilou. I didn’t see you there.’ He blushes as if he’s committed a terrible faux pas.
I wave him away. He’s always blushing and mumbling. It’s really rather charming. ‘No need to apologise. I see Guillaume has found you some gems too.’
‘Oui, thank you for connecting us. Selling these on will be the hard part.’ He rakes his fingers through his light-brown hair. That same distracted gaze is back, as if he can’t quite talk and dream at the same time.
‘I understand. It’s almost impossible to let them go.’
‘Beauty comes our way but for a moment.’ He stares just past me and I find myself lost for words as I so often am when Benoit says a phrase that’s so startlingly poetic.
‘I – I…’ I fumble with a response, all at once lost in the deep intelligence of his dark eyes. He’s not like other men. Not loud, not showy, not a rippled mass of muscles, which all adds to his appeal. Benoit’s magnetising in a way I can’t quite put my finger on. He moves his gaze to Felix who is in the hallway, chatting with a customer.
Guillaume glances at his watch with an impatient sigh. ‘I really am pressed for time. Can you continue this chitchat later?’
I cough, clearing my throat, feeling unbalanced suddenly, as if the world tilted for a fraction of a second. The idea of finding love is literally making me woozy, which I put down to being surrounded by love in all its forms at Ephemera and with Paris Cupid. ‘Oui. Sorry, Guillaume,’ I finally manage.
Benoit nodsau revoirand Guillaume follows me into Ephemera, hefting the small package of books with a grunt as if it’s as heavy as a box of bowling balls.
