eat whatever you choose. Tomorrow night I will ask that you try everything just to taste it, okay?”
I could not imagine eating this much food all the time and thought no matter how slowly I ate, I could not avoid turning into Mrs. Lavasseur.
“So what do you think of our little stone house?” Jean asked as Giselle set out small dishes in front of us filled with olive oil, garlic and fresh grated cheese. I watched as Jean tore off a small pieced of steaming bread and dipped it into the oil before popping it into her mouth.
“It is very nice,” I said as I did the same. The bread was very crusty on the outside, but soft on the inside, much like I remembered it to be in Cote Nouveau . The combination of the warm chewy bread soaked with oil was wonderful.
“I think she likes our red door,” Giselle said nudging Jean by the arm and giving me another small wink.
Jean picked up her wineglass with her left hand and it was then that I noticed she had the exact same ring with the silver band and unusual green stone cut in a heart shape, as Giselle’s. Jean took a sip of wine and tilted her head towards Giselle, giving her a doubtful glance.
“I do like it,” I said.
After a while, Jean shook her head, smiled and said, “Fine, Giselle. The door can stay red.”
Giselle leaned her head against Jean’s shoulder, looked up at her grinning and said “Thank you, Jean.” She turned and gave me a very satisfactory look before diving into her salad.
“It was not red before?” I asked.
“No, it was ugly brown,” Giselle said.
“But the picture over the fireplace…”
“Giselle painted that last summer after she went and painted the door red,” Jean explained.
“You painted that picture?” I asked. It was really very good and looked just like the house.
“ Oui . Do you like it?” Giselle asked.
“Yes.”
Turning to Jean, Giselle said, “You see it has to stay red now, Jean, because I cannot repaint that picture again.”
“Did you paint the picture in your room of the stream and leaves?” I asked Giselle.
“You mean the one in our room?” Giselle asked and before I could respond, she said, “Yes, I painted that too. Perhaps we can work on a painting for your room this summer when everything is in bloom again.”
I did not plan on being here for the summer but did not want to hurt her feelings by saying so. Still, I felt my stomach twist a little at the thought.
“Giselle was an art major at the University,” Jean explained. “She’s a very talented artist, among many other things.”
“That is where we met,” Giselle said patting Jean’s arm. “I took one of Jean’s classes.”
“You…you were Jean’s student?”
They turned and smiled at each other but did not answer me. I could not imagine a student and a teacher ever living together. It was all very strange.
A little while later, Giselle passed a platter filled with cheeses, sliced apples and grapes.
“Jean picked out some books for you to read, Etoile,” she said. “They are by your bed.”
“Thank you,” I said as I reached for a slice of cheese with my hand.
Giselle made a noise and held up a fork to me. I picked my fork up and used it to take the cheese and some apple slices.
“I think you’ll enjoy Black Beauty ,” Jean said.
“Thank you, but I have already read it.”
Jean raised her eyebrows slightly.
Giselle refilled their wineglasses. “See, Jean? She is ahead of you already.”
“There’s also A Little House on the Prairie ,” Jean offered as she stabbed at the cheese and grapes with her fork.
I sipped my milk. “I have already read that, too.”
Jean tilted her head to the side and studied me for a moment. Giselle watched her do it and smiled.
“What about Anne of Green Gables ?”
I thought for a few minutes. “I do not think that is one I have read,” I answered.
“Good,” Jean said satisfactorily.
“Jean says it tells a lot about someone’s
I could not imagine eating this much food all the time and thought no matter how slowly I ate, I could not avoid turning into Mrs. Lavasseur.
“So what do you think of our little stone house?” Jean asked as Giselle set out small dishes in front of us filled with olive oil, garlic and fresh grated cheese. I watched as Jean tore off a small pieced of steaming bread and dipped it into the oil before popping it into her mouth.
“It is very nice,” I said as I did the same. The bread was very crusty on the outside, but soft on the inside, much like I remembered it to be in Cote Nouveau . The combination of the warm chewy bread soaked with oil was wonderful.
“I think she likes our red door,” Giselle said nudging Jean by the arm and giving me another small wink.
Jean picked up her wineglass with her left hand and it was then that I noticed she had the exact same ring with the silver band and unusual green stone cut in a heart shape, as Giselle’s. Jean took a sip of wine and tilted her head towards Giselle, giving her a doubtful glance.
“I do like it,” I said.
After a while, Jean shook her head, smiled and said, “Fine, Giselle. The door can stay red.”
Giselle leaned her head against Jean’s shoulder, looked up at her grinning and said “Thank you, Jean.” She turned and gave me a very satisfactory look before diving into her salad.
“It was not red before?” I asked.
“No, it was ugly brown,” Giselle said.
“But the picture over the fireplace…”
“Giselle painted that last summer after she went and painted the door red,” Jean explained.
“You painted that picture?” I asked. It was really very good and looked just like the house.
“ Oui . Do you like it?” Giselle asked.
“Yes.”
Turning to Jean, Giselle said, “You see it has to stay red now, Jean, because I cannot repaint that picture again.”
“Did you paint the picture in your room of the stream and leaves?” I asked Giselle.
“You mean the one in our room?” Giselle asked and before I could respond, she said, “Yes, I painted that too. Perhaps we can work on a painting for your room this summer when everything is in bloom again.”
I did not plan on being here for the summer but did not want to hurt her feelings by saying so. Still, I felt my stomach twist a little at the thought.
“Giselle was an art major at the University,” Jean explained. “She’s a very talented artist, among many other things.”
“That is where we met,” Giselle said patting Jean’s arm. “I took one of Jean’s classes.”
“You…you were Jean’s student?”
They turned and smiled at each other but did not answer me. I could not imagine a student and a teacher ever living together. It was all very strange.
A little while later, Giselle passed a platter filled with cheeses, sliced apples and grapes.
“Jean picked out some books for you to read, Etoile,” she said. “They are by your bed.”
“Thank you,” I said as I reached for a slice of cheese with my hand.
Giselle made a noise and held up a fork to me. I picked my fork up and used it to take the cheese and some apple slices.
“I think you’ll enjoy Black Beauty ,” Jean said.
“Thank you, but I have already read it.”
Jean raised her eyebrows slightly.
Giselle refilled their wineglasses. “See, Jean? She is ahead of you already.”
“There’s also A Little House on the Prairie ,” Jean offered as she stabbed at the cheese and grapes with her fork.
I sipped my milk. “I have already read that, too.”
Jean tilted her head to the side and studied me for a moment. Giselle watched her do it and smiled.
“What about Anne of Green Gables ?”
I thought for a few minutes. “I do not think that is one I have read,” I answered.
“Good,” Jean said satisfactorily.
“Jean says it tells a lot about someone’s
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