A ROMANCE IN CANNES

Chapter 16

It was Edith’s last day.

It was also a big day of departures and arrivals, which implied a heavy workload for my team. There were many rooms to prepare in a short time and everything had to be perfect. Our customers expected no less from an establishment such as ours. The maids were busy on the floors, the housekeepers had the task of watching over the teams, and I was responsible for managing all this while alleviating the various problems.

Problems that arise early in the morning. Two chambermaids were absent and none of those I called to replace them were available. Then, the reception sent me a rather special request from one of our customers. She wanted to install a square of lawn on her balcony. Not really understanding her request – I couldn’t see why she had a sudden desire for a lawn when a splendid sea view was spread out before her eyes – I tried to find out why she was insisting on it at all costs. I also wanted to be sure to provide her with exactly what she needed. So I learned that the little corner of greenery wasn’t intended for her to put her feet on, but for her dog to relieve itself there. Apparently, her little protege couldn’t bring himself to go anywhere but some nice fresh grass... I then spent a long time on the phone finding a company capable of delivering and installing a square metre of grass for me, as quickly as possible. The comfort of the dog was priceless, and fortunately, given the bill that its owner was going to have to pay. I was certain that the most expensive piece of lawn on the coast was now installed on the sixth floor.

I was then called for another problem. A customer came again to complain of theft. This time it was a string of pearls that had disappeared. I immediately summoned the maid who had serviced the room to ask her for an explanation. I found myself with an employee in tears who swore to me that she had nothing to do with it. Considering the state in which she put herself when I hadn’t even accused her of theft, I was certain of her innocence. Or else she was an excellent actress, and we had to introduce her to a director at all costs when the Film Festival started in a few weeks.

The director was concerned about this story and made it clear to me, once again, that we should not take the matter lightly. Especially since, during the Festival, one of the greatest French jewellers had reserved several rooms to set up his headquarters in our hotel. There would even be a suite intended to receive the actresses, in order to present them with the available adornments that they would wear when climbing the stairs. These kinds of customers really cared about security, and if it came to their ears that thefts had taken place at the hotel, they risked leaving for the competition.

Edith’s farewell party arrived sooner than I would have liked. As I was in charge of the event, I also had to go and check that everything was ready. I was hurrying towards the Azure lounge when I ran into Mr Schmidt, our nice retired guest who didn’t seem to leave the hotel very often. He invites me again to have tea with him, and I again decline. It had become a kind of ritual between us. I wished him a good afternoon and headed back to the reception room immediately, with a smile on my face this time.

Luckily for me, the buffet was managed by José, the pastry chef and also Edith’s husband. When he came forward, I saw the opportunity to relieve myself of part of the organisation but also a good way of not having to discuss it with Georges. I still took care of the gift, which was weird in a way, since I was probably the one who had known her the least. But no one wanted to replace me for this task.

The living room was ready. The waiters had set up the buffets and the bar; so I contented myself with moving a vase and rearranging the drape of a curtain. I wanted everything to be perfect, as if it were for one of our most prestigious clients. Firstly, because I thought that Edith was well worth it after thirty-two years of good and loyal service, but also because I wasn’t fooled. If Mr Lecailler had assigned me this mission, it was because he wanted to test me. So of course, the organisation of the receptions was more the responsibility of the sales department, but it was a good way to check if I was able to watch the team.

Gradually, the guests arrived. Mainly hotel employees. There were, however, a few members of Edith’s family.

The director made a short speech and gave Edith our gift, carefully wrapped by my hands. Edith then spoke to ask us and shed a few tears along the way. I must admit that I, too, had watery eyes when she declared that she was delighted to leave the service in my hands. However, I noticed that one of my housekeepers didn’t seem to share her opinion, it was Mariana. She looked hard and closed. When the speeches were over, I saw her whisper something to her colleagues, and by the way they all turned their heads towards me, I was sure I was the topic of conversation. And it shouldn’t be fun.

“Hello,” said a deep voice next to me.

I jumped and turned to my mysterious interlocutor.

“Victor? But what are you doing here?” I wondered when I found myself face to face with my neighbour.

He wore suit pants with a blue shirt the same colour as his irises. His hair was tame for once, and he looked serious with his glasses. A little too serious, I would have said. He reminded me of a banker…but a sexy banker, I have to admit. But hey, guys who play with numbers, that’s never been my thing.

“Like you, I’m taking part in Edith’s leaving party,” he replied.

“But, do you know her?”

He pretended to think.

“Mmm, pretty good, considering she’s my mom.”

“Your mother! But why didn’t you tell me when I told you I worked here?”

He explains it to me in the most precise way:

“Because I wanted to see what you thought of your work, the place and the people around you without it being biased.”

“I... I don’t understand…”

“If I had told you that I was Edith’s son, you would have felt obligated to say nice things. The information would have been altered.”

“You’re a strange man, you know?”

He smiled like it was a compliment.

“People often tell me this.”

“So you withheld the information from me to see if I was basically going to criticise your mother?”

“Among others.”

“Are you the kind of mom’s son who protects her against all odds?”

“No, not at all,” he scowled.

“So, José, the pastry chef is your father?” I asked.

“Stepfather. My parents divorced when I was little.”

“Is that why you don’t have the same name?”

He nodded.

“And so, is it good? I passed the test? Did I say anything mean?”

“It wasn’t a test.”

“Oh good? What was it then?”

“I just wanted to get to know you a little better.”

“By lying to me?”

“I didn’t lie to you.”

“Lying by omission is still lying.”

He was suddenly agitated, and ran a hand through his hair, messing it up in the process. That was more like the Victor I had met before.

“Sorry... I didn’t mean…”

He didn’t get a chance to finish because someone cut him off:

“Danielle?”

It was Georges, in an immaculate white kitchen outfit, who came to my side. The two men exchanged a vague nod and I wondered if they knew each other. After all, Victor’s father-in-law was a pastry chef. It wasn’t impossible. Georges approached me and slipped his arm around my waist.

“I’ll borrow her for a moment.”

Victor didn’t answer. I saw that he was looking at Georges’s hand on my hip. Surprised by his gesture, I didn’t even protest when he pulled me aside.

“What’s happening?” I asked, worried.

Maybe it was a problem with reception.

Georges faced me, but his fingers were still in contact with me. Not really the posture a co-worker should have.

“Nothing, except that I wanted to talk to you,” he says.

I feel the vibrations of his deep, slightly hoarse voice all over my body. I resented myself instantly.

“I was in the middle of a conversation if you hadn’t noticed,” I got angry, both at him and at myself.

“With Victor?” he wondered as if the thing were incongruous.

This confirmed to me in passing that the two men knew each other. But the tone he used to pronounce the first name of my neighbour only reinforced my irritation.

“Yes, with Victor. Now, if you don’t have anything important to tell me, I’ll leave you. I have things to do,” I said dryly, pretending to leave.

Georges grabs my wrist to hold me back.

“Wait!”

He continued more calmly:

“I’m sorry, you have the right to chat with whoever you want. That’s none of my business. Please stay.”

He wasn’t imploring, Georges wasn’t the type, but his look was almost sad. Something deep inside me was touched. I say nothing, swinging between pros and cons.

“It’s a nice reception you organised for Edith,” he says.

“Thanks, it’s not much,” I replied with a shrug.

“Not everyone would have gone to so much trouble for someone they’ll only be working with for a few weeks.”

“Even if I haven’t known her for long, I understand that she has made herself the body and soul of this hotel. We owed her that. And then, I didn’t really feel like I had a choice.”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel like the director is watching me.”

“That’s not the feeling I had. I think he appreciates your work.”

I sighed and nervously played with a lock of hair that had escaped from my bun.

“I assume you’ve heard of the thefts in the hotel?”

He nodded.

“Lecailler seems to have me in his sights.”

“Don’t take it personally; it’s true that when there’s a theft in a hotel, the first people to single out are the room services.”

“He constantly reminds me to keep an eye on my team. I spend my time observing them, wondering if any of them could be linked to this story. I feel paranoid, not to mention the fact that they must find me weird, always asking them questions and constantly being on their backs.”

“You don’t have to blame yourself for being on their backs, it’s your job, after all. You’re their leader. And then it’s better that they understand immediately. If you’re too nice, you’ll get pushed around.”

“I’m not being too nice.”

“Oh, I know… The gossip goes all the way down to the kitchen, you know.”

“What have you been told?” I hastened to ask.

He replied in a low voice:

“Not here.”

Then, in a more normal tone:

“I want to tell you everything in detail, but for that, you will have to agree to have dinner with me.”

I frowned, not really keen on the idea.

“Don’t say no. Just dinner with friends. We are friends, right?”

“Colleagues.”

“Colleagues, if it makes you happy. Two colleagues who are going to share a nice meal and chat.”

He questions me with his gaze. The ball was in my court.

“Okay,” I finally accepted.

“Tomorrow night, I’ll pick you up at 7:30.”

“I’m not available tomorrow evening.”

I totally was, but I didn’t like the way he decided for both of us.

“Well, pick a day, then.”

The weekend was approaching and I knew he could never free himself on an evening shift.

“Next Monday, at eight o’clock, and we’ll meet at the restaurant. I’ll let you choose.”

“Everything is closed on Mondays,” he grumbled.

“I’m sure you’ll find something good,” I said, walking away.

However, I wondered if spending an evening with him was really a good idea.