A Rather Charming Invitation Read Free Page B

come, “it is best to do what Leonora asks, because in the end she always prevails anyway. Even when she was a little girl she was très formidable .”
    “A real bossy-boots,” Jeremy translated.
    “ C’est vrai! ” my father chuckled.
    “Anyway, you should meet your French relations,” my mother said positively.
    “Besides, if you and Jeremy go to Mougins, you can make sure that Honorine returns home as her mother wishes,” my father added meaningfully.
    “Er, that raises an uncomfortable question,” I pointed out. “If we go there and accept a wedding gift, does it mean we have to invite all our French relatives to the wedding?” The idea of a huge guest list, filled with people I didn’t know, gave me a strange feeling of stage-fright.
    “Yes, invite them all,” my mother said serenely, “but bear in mind that they may have asked you to visit them so that you won’t be offended if they don’t show up for your wedding, especially if you decide to have it in England—and by the way, dear, when will you decide? We must make plans, you know; caterers and florists can be beastly. Have you even set a date yet?”
    “We think maybe September,” I said hurriedly.
    “September? You’re quite mad, you know,” my mother exclaimed. “An autumn wedding when spring is already on the wane? How do you think this will come about, by waving a magic wand?” she added incredulously. I knew this tone well. She was on the verge of telling me that she can’t believe I’m her daughter, so disorganized and impractical.
    “Yes, I have been putting off a lot of decisions,” I said, since there was no point in denying this. I glanced at the wedding-dress sketches still lying on the ottoman where I’d left them. They’d been sent to me by that nice Monsieur Lombard, whose atelier was busy enough without getting last-minute notes from the bride. A strange feeling of panic arose in me, and I turned resolutely away from the sketches.
    My father, sensing two females about to—well, I guess females don’t exactly lock horns, but anyway, Dad cleared his throat and said, “Let’s take one zing at a time. Yes, you should experience Mougins—it’s a great capital of gastronomie restaurants that attracts connoisseurs from all over the world—even the Parisians will go out of their way to eat the cuisine of the great chefs there. And,” he added, “although Leonora is a distant cousin to you, you’d better call her ‘ Tante Leonora’. It’s more respectful, and it’s what we do in our family.”
    “Okay,” I said, delighted to have a newly-minted French “auntie,” and grateful to my dad for bailing me out of the wedding talk.
    “Meanwhile, you might ask Honorine to give her mother a call,” Mom suggested.
    After we hung up, Jeremy and I just looked at each other. I said, “Well, I guess we’re going to Mougins.”
    “Seems like an enormous spot of bother just to go and pick up a soup bowl,” Jeremy groused jokingly, indicating that he’d already made up his mind to grin and bear it. I hugged him for this.
    “Tureen,” I corrected. “It’s beautiful, I remember it. It always had pride of place on the sideboard of my parents’ dining room. Besides, it’s not about the gift. It’s about family.”
    “Right,” said Jeremy. “But don’t you wonder why your father, in all these years, hasn’t gone back to visit?”
    “Well, it looks like we’re about to find out,” I said.

Chapter Two
    T he next morning, when I came down to breakfast, Jeremy had already made coffee and toast; then he’d disappeared into his office, from which I heard various curses and growls. Eventually, when he returned for a second cup of coffee, he announced, “We’re having incredible computer problems—the whole bloody system crashed, probably under the sheer weight of all these junk e-mails. If I can’t fix it myself, I’ll have to get someone to take a look at it. Meanwhile, you’d best stay off your