Papy rolled his eyes, obviously wondering how his peaceful home had so quickly transformed into a sorority house.
“So?” asked Georgia, wheedling now.
“We seem to have worked things out,” I said, and turning to Mamie, asked, “Is it okay if he comes to dinner tomorrow night?”
“Of course,” she responded with a broad smile.
“Woo-hoo!” crowed Georgia. “No more Kate pining away in her bedroom. I should go over to his house and thank him myself.”
“That’s enough now, Georgia,” said Papy.
“You can thank him tomorrow night,” I said, and quickly changed the subject.
At seven thirty the next night I got a text from Vincent: Good evening, ma belle. Could I please have your digicode?
I sent him the four-number and two-letter code, and a minute later our doorbell rang. I pushed the interphone, buzzing open the door to the stairwell. “Third floor, left,” I said through the speakerphone.
My pulse sped up as I opened our front door and stood in the hallway waiting for him. He was up the three flights of stairs in no time, carrying a huge bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bag in the other. “These are for your Mamie,” he said, leaning over to give me a quick, soft kiss on the lips.
The pounding of my heart went into overdrive. Vincent lifted his eyebrows suggestively. “Are you going to ask me in, or were you testing to see if I could cross your threshold without the invitation?” Then he whispered, “I’m a revenant, not a vampire, chérie.” His teasing expression made me forget my nerves, and taking a deep breath to compose myself, I reached for his hand and led him through the doorway.
“Mamie’s right here,” I said as she walked out of the kitchen toward us. She had gone to her salon that morning and was looking stunningly elegant in a black-and-white wool dress and four-inch heels.
“You must be Vincent,” she said, leaning over to kiss his cheeks, her gardenia-scented perfume enveloping us like a grandmotherly hug. She backed up a step to get a look at him. She seemed to be grading him, and from her expression he was getting an A.
“For you,” he said, handing her the massive flower arrangement.
“Oh, from Christian Tortu,” she said, spotting the florist’s card. “How lovely.”
“I’ll take your coat,” I said, and Vincent shrugged off his jacket, revealing a robin’s-egg blue cotton shirt tucked into dark corduroys.
I could barely believe that this crushingly handsome boy had dressed up and brought flowers expressly to impress my family. He had done it all for me.
“Papy, I would like to introduce you to Vincent Delacroix,” I said as my grandfather approached from his study.
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Vincent said in a formal manner as they shook hands. He held up the bag and said, “For you.”
Taking it, Papy pulled out a bottle and looked startled as he inspected the label. “Chateau Margaux, 1947? Wherever did you find this?”
“It’s a gift from my uncle, who says he has already had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, madame,” Vincent said, looking back at Mamie.
“Oh?” she said, her interest piqued.
“He recently brought you a painting to repair. Monsieur Grimod de La Reynière.”
Mamie’s eyes widened. “Jean-Baptiste Grimod de La Reynière is your uncle?”
Vincent nodded. “I have lived with him since my parents died.”
“Oh,” Mamie said, her eyes softening. “I am sorry to hear that you have that in common with our Katya.”
Fearing more in-depth questions, I took Vincent by the hand and quickly turned toward the sitting room. “Would you like something to drink? Maybe a bit of bubbly?” Papy asked as we sat down next to the fire.
“That would be nice. Thank you,” said Vincent.
“Yes, please,” I said, nodding at Papy, and he left the room, just as Georgia made her way in.
She looked stunning in a green silk frock that made my own simple black dress look drab in comparison. Vincent stood up politely. “Georgia,” he began, “I know that Kate apologized for me after we left you at that restaurant. But I just wanted to tell you myself. I am so sorry. I never would have done it if Ambrose hadn’t been in such a bad state. Even so, it was unforgivable.”
“I consider myself a very understanding person,” she said, with just a tinge of her fake Southern accent coming through. “If you weren’t so darn cute, I’m not sure I would let this one go. However, under the circumstances . . . ,” she trailed off as she slowly kissed his cheeks.
“For God’s sake, Georgia! Could you try to leave a bit of him for me?” I exclaimed, shaking my head in disbelief.
“I’ll take that to mean I’m forgiven,” Vincent said, laughing.