French Kisses by Jan Ellis

feeling of a job well done. Rachel got to her feet and made a short speech thanking everyone for helping.
    Gregor responded with a toast. “We wish you and the children success, health and happiness,” he said, as they all raised their glasses.
    “Here’s to friendship,” added Rachel, as they all stood to clink glasses and embrace.

 
    Chapter 8: Special Delivery
     
    After a call to Rachel to okay the costs of framing her prints, Paul Callot had got on with the work, promising to deliver everything to her home that week. Rachel was in her studio sorting through the reference books they had found during the clear out when a blue van with the words ‘Picture Perfect’ emblazoned on its side drew up in the courtyard.
    Looking out of the open window she saw Paul Callot emerge from the vehicle and go to the heavy front door. When she’d first met him at the frame shop she’d guessed he was quite old, but looking at him now she decided that he was probably only mid-forties and in pretty good nick. As if feeling her gaze upon him he looked up and smiled, raising one hand to shade his eyes from the sun.
    “Good morning,” he said with a wave. “I hope I’ve not caught you at a bad time?”
    “No worse than usual. I’ll be down in a second.” She stopped at a mirror on the way downstairs, straightening her shirt and checking her teeth for crumbs from the toast she had just polished off.
    Paul could hear the flip flop of her sandals as she dashed down the stairs to the hallway.
    “Hi, thanks so much for coming,” she said, shaking his hand. “Do you need help bringing in the pictures?”
    “Sure, that would be great,” he said, heading back to the van, which now had a skinny brown cat on the bonnet. Paul paused to give Fudge a scratch behind the ears before opening up the back.
    “I haven’t quite finished, but I thought I’d drop this lot off as I was passing.” He handed Rachel a box and took a second, larger one himself.
    “I love getting work back,” she said. “It feels like Christmas every time.” Rachel led the way through the sitting room and upstairs to her studio.
    “Nice space,” said Paul, looking around the bright room with its windows that gave out on the garden and sunflower fields beyond.
    “It was a sitting room but I commandeered it so I could concentrate on my work.”
    “Good choice,” he said nodding.
    They took out the prints and stacked them on the work bench.
    She lifted each of them up and held them against the wall. “I’m really hoping that these will help to give the guest rooms a more homely feel.”
    “I’m sure they will.”
    Rachel carefully examined each of the prints, occasionally stopping to rub a finger along a frame or tilt the work towards the window to catch the light. It was almost as if she was seeing each print for the first time and was quite absorbed.
    Paul leant against the bench watching her for several minutes with a half smile on his face, then looked at his watch. “Well if you’re happy with everything, I’ll leave you to it.”
    “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to ignore you. The work always looks so different, so much better when it’s been framed.” She smiled. “I was just thinking about which print I should put where.” She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. “I don’t suppose you’d like to look at the guest rooms and give me your opinion, would you? Only if you’ve got time, of course.”
    Paul looked at his watch again. “I’d like that,” he said with a smile.
    “Great! Would you like coffee or the tour first?”
    “Tour first, I think.”
    They went from room to room carrying batches of prints and leaning them against walls and placing them on furniture to see what would fit best where. Again, Rachel was impressed with Paul’s eye. After half an hour they had found places for all the work he had brought over. Back in the kitchen he sipped his coffee while Rachel wrote out a cheque which he slipped into his back