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“Welcome, darlings,” she exclaimed, her English heavily accented. “I’ve been stalking the windows waiting for your arrival. We’re going to have such a great time.”
Chapter Nine
Chantalle embraced her son then turned to Linda, drawing her into her ample bosom. The woman’s enthusiasm was contagious, and Linda returned the affectionate hug. It certainly didn’t feel as though they were meeting for the first time.
“Maman, this is Linda Coriola,” Gerard said. “She is—”
“I know who she is,mon fils.” Chantalle kept Linda’s hands in hers. “I recognize her from the newspaper. You’re quite an artist,ma belle, and even prettier in person.”
“Thank you,MadameLeon,” Linda answered, smiling. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Call me Chantalle,chérie. Come in, come in.”
Gerard’s mother led them into the dining room. While the interior of the house was cool, it revealed an eclectic décor. The furniture, rugs, and drapes were antique, but in excellent condition as was the elegant chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Landscape paintings adorned the walls, and decorative knick-knacks were scattered over every surface. No doubt Chantalle and her sister had made some of them.
The wide window revealed a lovely view of the garden. In the center of the room sat a wooden rectangular table, surrounded by six matching chairs.
“Sit, please. Let me offer you something to drink.” She raised a pitcher and filled four glasses with ice and a light pink liquid. “It’s strawberry cordial. My sister and I make it from our own berry patch.”
Linda accepted the glass and sipped. “It’s delicious,” she said, savoring the cool sweetness of the drink.
“Thank you, darling.” Chantalle beamed. “I’ve always said there’s nothing better than homemade food and drink. I do hope you two are hungry. Cécile’s just adding the final touches to the dessert. She’ll join us shortly.” Chantalle sat across from Linda. “We’re both so excited to have you here. Gérard said you met at the clinic.”
His mother had pronounced his name the French way. To Linda’s ears, it took on a foreign and exotic quality—not unlike the man himself. She glanced at him, but he’d buried his nose in his glass of cordial. She worried her lower lip. What else had he told his mother about her?
Swallowing her concern, Linda turned back to her hostess.
“We did. I help support the clinic financially, and now that I’ve settled in London, I hope to get more involved in its everyday activities. I want to help those poor children in whatever way I can.”
Chantalle stared at her, the woman’s eyes as insightful as her son’s.
“You have a good heart. Not all rich people are generous enough to share even a penny of their wealth.”
Linda laughed softly and crossed her legs under the table.
“I’m not rich,MadameLeon—Chantalle,” she said, feeling her cheeks burn. “I’ve been privileged enough to be able to follow my passion for art. I’ve done well.”
The woman shook her head, her lips pursed.
“The world is full of starving artists. If you’ve done well, it’s because you’re very talented. I thought so the moment I saw photos of your work in the newspaper. The jewelry you make is fabulous, and those wooden sculptures… I wish I could afford one.” Chantalle sighed. “No wonder my son is mad about you.”
Linda sipped her juice, wondering whether or not to gift her latest carving to Chantalle when the woman’s words sunk in. She choked, coughing noisily, splattering pink droplets everywhere.
Gerard burst out laughing and patted her back.
“There, there. Stop it,Maman.You’ll scare her off. Please excuse my mother’s candor,” he said, rubbing her back. “I should’ve warned you that at times she’s so forthright, it should be illegal.”
“Why would she be scared?” Chantalle was outraged at the idea. She narrowed her eyes. “Or don’t you love my son?”
Linda swallowed, having recovered her breath, only to lose it again. She groped for an answer.
“It’s not like that… Uh… Well… We just met a few days ago. I’m not sure…”
Cecile appeared in the doorway. Linda was so grateful for this interruption she could have kissed the woman’s feet.
Gerard stood and hurried over to his aunt, pulling her into his arms.
“Ma tante, how wonderful to see you again,” he said. “Come and meetmon amie.”
