hard to make this café a success,” Winter told me, her voice ringing with pride. “Hannah used to encourage me…” Her voice trailed off.
I stared down into my coffee. “Like you said, it’s hard to believe Hannah’s been gone a year.”
“It is,” Winter agreed quietly.
I held my breath. “I’m starting to clear out her things.” A bold-faced lie if there ever was one. “I wondered if there was anything of hers you’d like to have.”
Winter’s eyes misted and she brought her hand to her heart. “Oh, Michael, that’s so thoughtful of you.”
“Hannah loved you. You were her favorite cousin.”
Winter looked as if she might cry. Other than Hannah’s, I never could deal with other people’s emotions. Since her death, I often find myself in the role of comforter. It’s difficult to ease someone else’s pain, especially when my own is so debilitating.
“Is there anything of special significance? Anything you’d treasure?” I asked.
Winter shook her head. “I treasured my cousin. I didn’t realize how much until she was gone.”
I understood the feeling. I took a croissant, ripped off a piece, but didn’t eat it. I was afraid if we headed down this path of memories it would depress us both.
“I can’t think of anything I’d want. Whatever you’d like to give me is fine.”
“What’s the connection with France?” I asked, changing the subject.
Winter regarded me for a long moment. “I went there with Pierre.”
“Pierre?”
“Pierre Dubois. We…we used to be involved.”
“You met in France?” I was trying to remember if Hannah had mentioned any of this. The name sounded familiar.
“No, we met here in the States. At one time we worked together, but that was ages ago now,” she said, lowering her voice slightly. “I flew over to meet Pierre’s family and loved every minute—the food, the culture, the people. Being there inspired me. When I decided to open my own café I wanted to duplicate those memories.”
I smiled, caught up in her words. Then I remembered Hannah telling me about Winter and some Frenchman she’d been dating. A guy she’d worked with at a classy restaurant. The same guy who’d caused her grief.
“I suppose you’re wondering about me and Pierre?” Winter asked. “I’m sorry we were never able to attend the dinner parties you and Hannah had. With our work schedules, it was impossible. But maybe that was just as well.”
“Ah…” I wasn’t sure how to respond.
“He and I are taking a break from each other,” Winter said.
I didn’t know exactly what that meant. “A break?”
“A few months,” she elaborated. “We split up oncebefore and then got back together, but the same old problems cropped up again. All we seemed to do was argue.” A look of sadness came over her. “Some people are meant to be together, I guess, and others aren’t, no matter how strong the attraction is.” She shook her head as if she wasn’t sure how any of this had happened.
If I understood her correctly, Winter had reunited with Pierre after a long break and recently split up again. Hannah had obviously written her letter after the first separation. “What about dating others during this…break?” I asked without any subtlety or finesse.
“Well, that hasn’t really come up, but I don’t think it would be a problem.”
“I see. If someone encouraged you to date…say, someone like me, would you be inclined to do so?” I asked. What I really wanted to find out was whether Hannah had written her a letter condoning—or even suggesting—a relationship between the two of us.
“If someone encouraged me?” She watched me curiously. “Like who?”
“You know. Someone like a friend or—” I hesitated “—or perhaps a relative.”
“You mean Ritchie?”
“Not specifically.” Obtaining the information was harder than I’d expected.
“I wouldn’t need anyone to encourage me, Michael,” she said, smiling across the table at me.
I stared down into my coffee. “Like you said, it’s hard to believe Hannah’s been gone a year.”
“It is,” Winter agreed quietly.
I held my breath. “I’m starting to clear out her things.” A bold-faced lie if there ever was one. “I wondered if there was anything of hers you’d like to have.”
Winter’s eyes misted and she brought her hand to her heart. “Oh, Michael, that’s so thoughtful of you.”
“Hannah loved you. You were her favorite cousin.”
Winter looked as if she might cry. Other than Hannah’s, I never could deal with other people’s emotions. Since her death, I often find myself in the role of comforter. It’s difficult to ease someone else’s pain, especially when my own is so debilitating.
“Is there anything of special significance? Anything you’d treasure?” I asked.
Winter shook her head. “I treasured my cousin. I didn’t realize how much until she was gone.”
I understood the feeling. I took a croissant, ripped off a piece, but didn’t eat it. I was afraid if we headed down this path of memories it would depress us both.
“I can’t think of anything I’d want. Whatever you’d like to give me is fine.”
“What’s the connection with France?” I asked, changing the subject.
Winter regarded me for a long moment. “I went there with Pierre.”
“Pierre?”
“Pierre Dubois. We…we used to be involved.”
“You met in France?” I was trying to remember if Hannah had mentioned any of this. The name sounded familiar.
“No, we met here in the States. At one time we worked together, but that was ages ago now,” she said, lowering her voice slightly. “I flew over to meet Pierre’s family and loved every minute—the food, the culture, the people. Being there inspired me. When I decided to open my own café I wanted to duplicate those memories.”
I smiled, caught up in her words. Then I remembered Hannah telling me about Winter and some Frenchman she’d been dating. A guy she’d worked with at a classy restaurant. The same guy who’d caused her grief.
“I suppose you’re wondering about me and Pierre?” Winter asked. “I’m sorry we were never able to attend the dinner parties you and Hannah had. With our work schedules, it was impossible. But maybe that was just as well.”
“Ah…” I wasn’t sure how to respond.
“He and I are taking a break from each other,” Winter said.
I didn’t know exactly what that meant. “A break?”
“A few months,” she elaborated. “We split up oncebefore and then got back together, but the same old problems cropped up again. All we seemed to do was argue.” A look of sadness came over her. “Some people are meant to be together, I guess, and others aren’t, no matter how strong the attraction is.” She shook her head as if she wasn’t sure how any of this had happened.
If I understood her correctly, Winter had reunited with Pierre after a long break and recently split up again. Hannah had obviously written her letter after the first separation. “What about dating others during this…break?” I asked without any subtlety or finesse.
“Well, that hasn’t really come up, but I don’t think it would be a problem.”
“I see. If someone encouraged you to date…say, someone like me, would you be inclined to do so?” I asked. What I really wanted to find out was whether Hannah had written her a letter condoning—or even suggesting—a relationship between the two of us.
“If someone encouraged me?” She watched me curiously. “Like who?”
“You know. Someone like a friend or—” I hesitated “—or perhaps a relative.”
“You mean Ritchie?”
“Not specifically.” Obtaining the information was harder than I’d expected.
“I wouldn’t need anyone to encourage me, Michael,” she said, smiling across the table at me.
Similar Books
