Page 2 of Recipe for Love (The Andrades 0.5)
“Bonjour, mademoiselle,” a petite woman called out from behind a small table. She was chicly dressed in a vintage Chanel tweed dress suit with a black braided trim that added a young playfulness to her otherwise austere profile.
“Bonjour,” Maddy said with an apologetic smile. “I don’t speak French.”
The shopkeeper, who appeared to be in her mid-twenties, instantly switched to English. “No problem. Can I help you?”
Can you stop the questions that are swirling through my head? Can you tell me what to do?
Tucking her errant curl behind her ear again, Maddy said, “I don’t think so. I just needed a moment out of the rain.” And a moment out of my life. She blinked back tears of confusion.
“Mon Dieu, you’re wet. Well, you came into the right place. Plenty of dry clothes to choose from here.” She called instructions across the shop to someone in the back room. Then, in English, she said, “Fran will make some coffee. You look like you could use some.”
Looking around the shop quickly, Maddy saw the racks of retro clothing for the first time. Her mother would have loved the place. Although most of the family’s clothing was tailor-made for them, she and her mother had spent many Saturdays hunting for rare vintage designer outfits. “Thank you, I would love some.”
The woman cleared the table she’d been folding clothing on and covered it with a small white linen cloth. “Come, sit.”
“Oh, you don’t have to . . .” Maddy started to say, but the woman was already placing silverware and napkins beside plates.
“I don’t have many chances to practice my English. Please.”
Maddy placed her black Birkin bag on the floor and sank into one of the chairs offered, only then realizing how very tired she was. She hadn’t slept well in the week since she’d last spoken to her father. Another young woman placed a fresh pot of coffee between them. “Thank you,” Maddy said, gratefully accepting the steaming cup. She drank it black, barely feeling its burn.
The shopkeeper took the seat across from her. “My name is Alyson.”
Maddy let the coffee cup warm her cold fingers. “Mine is Madison, but you can call me Maddy.”
“Maddy. That’s a beautiful name. You’re American?”
“Yes. Is it that obvious?”
“Not jeans-and-tennis-shoes obvious, but I love your accent.”
“Your English is very good.”
The other woman smiled, and Maddy relaxed. For a few minutes they talked about the weather and the beauty of the town. Then, as if she’d been holding the question in for too long, Alyson asked, “Are you in some sort of trouble?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Your clothes are expensive, but you look exhausted and pale. Are you on the run from a wealthy lover?” When Maddy blushed, Alyson said, “I’m sorry. My imagination is over the top. I know. You don’t have to tell me anything.”
On the run from a wealthy lover? A tempting alternative to reality. Why be honest when no one else was? Maddy leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Please don’t tell anyone that you saw me.”
Alyson’s eyes rounded. “You really are on the run?”
I wish I were. “Yes.” A wicked thought came to her. She’d never deliberately done anything to worry or anger her parents. She’d happily followed their rules, secure in the belief that they loved her and would always keep her safe. That was before she’d discovered how little she actually knew them.
Maybe it was time to show them how little they knew her.
And what their lie had cost them.
Maddy turned and looked at the racks of clothing and then back at Alyson. I could disguise myself. Urgently, she said, “I have money to pay you. Will you help me get away?”
Alyson reached across the table and took Maddy’s hand in hers. “Women stick together, non? How can I help?”
Although Maddy felt a little guilty for not correcting Alyson on her situation, she’d already set herself on this course. “I need to disappear, but it won’t be easy. I didn’t come here alone.”
“He’s here?” Alyson whispered urgently.
“No, but my bodyguard is. I’m never allowed anywhere without him.”
“Controlling bastard. No wonder you left him. I’ll help you. Do you have anywhere to go?”
Maddy thought of all the homes her family owned and shook her head. No matter which she chose, which friend or family member she turned to, her father would know. With only a few hundred dollars in cash, her options were limited. Using her credit card would give her location away. There was a downside to coming from a family who’d made their fortune in technology.
“I would let you stay with me, but I have two roommates and it’s not possible. However, my brother has a house just outside of town,” Alyson said. “He has plenty of empty bedrooms and he is almost never there.”
“I couldn’t,” Maddy said. It was one thing to agree to Alyson sneaking her out of town and another to impose on her family.
“He won’t care. Trust me. You could be there a week and he wouldn’t notice.”
Mouth suddenly dry, Maddy asked, “Are you suggesting that we don’t tell him?”
Alyson laughed. “Oh, I’ll tell him. He just won’t hear me. He’s very intense, you know? All he cares about is his restaurant. He’s a chef, quite a famous one locally. If you were a pistou or a macaron, he might notice you, but everything else is an annoyance, you understand?”
r /> Not really, but Maddy imagined a short, stocky Frenchman in an apron and chef hat, and suddenly the thought of staying with him no longer seemed intimidating. “If you’re sure it wouldn’t be a problem . . .”
Alyson stood confidently and declared, “No problem at all. Do you have clothes with you, or will you need everything?”
“I—I guess I would need everything.” If I’m crazy enough to do this. “I don’t have a lot of cash on me, but I have some.”
Alyson led her to one of the changing rooms and said, “Consider these a gift.” She looked Maddy over to assess her size, then walked back to the racks and flipped a few articles of clothing over her arm.
“I couldn’t possibly not pay you,” Maddy protested and started to dig through her purse for money.
Alyson returned and laid a hand on her forearm to calm her. “You pay me when you can. It’s not a problem. I trust you.”
Although it was far from the first time Maddy had witnessed an act of charity, she had never been the recipient, and she wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. She’s helping me because of a lie. I’m here because I can’t stomach my parents’ lie. I have to tell her the truth. “You do not know me—” she started her confession, but Alyson spoke over her.
“I was you, once.” The Frenchwoman’s eyes misted over. “There must be something about this town, because I came here to this very shop, desperate and alone, and found exactly what I needed. The moment I saw you, I knew we had something in common and I want to—how do you say it—pay my good fortune forward?”
Because we’re both scorned women on the run? Maddy felt trapped by her lie. She did want to escape—escape her family and the truth she wasn’t sure she could keep from Stephan the next time she saw him. Does it matter why I accept help as long as I need it?
