44 Charles Street

Thalia had announced to Francesca that she was going to spend it with friends in San Francisco. There was a man they wanted her to meet there who had a big yacht. And her father and Avery were going to Sun Valley to spend the holiday with old friends. Chris’s family was gathering in Martha’s Vineyard for the holiday, as they always did, but he wanted to stay in New York with her this year. Charles-Edouard and Marya offered to cook a traditional turkey dinner, and Chris and Francesca accepted with glee. Francesca had nowhere to go, and Chris didn’t want to go home. He wanted to have Thanksgiving with Francesca and Ian, at home. The house on Charles Street was their home now.

The meal Charles-Edouard and Marya prepared for them was a feast. There was every possible kind of vegetable and trimming, a turkey that looked like a photograph in a magazine, and some touches that were purely French. Others were traditional, cranberries, and chestnut purée, mashed potatoes, biscuits, peas, carrots, spinach, asparagus with Marya’s fabulous hollandaise. It was easily the best Thanksgiving the Americans in the group had ever had. They could hardly move when they left the table, and Charles-Edouard and Chris stood in the garden, smoking their cigars and drinking Château d’Yquem, their favorite sauterne. Charles-Edouard had definitely introduced them to some of the finer things in life. Chris loved his Cuban cigars but never smoked them in the house, and only one after a great meal, like now.

Marya and Francesca cleaned up in the kitchen, and Ian fell asleep on the bed in Marya’s room, watching TV. Chris introduced Charles-Edouard to American football, and they were a cozy group. They weren’t four strangers as they had been in the beginning. They were two couples now and a child. They were a solid unit of people who loved each other. For Francesca, it was a Thanksgiving where blessings were easy to count. In spite of the tragedy with Eileen at the end of the summer, it had been a good year.

And Francesca wasn’t prepared for the announcement Marya and Charles-Edouard made after the game was over. Marya looked at him with a hesitant expression, and he nodded.

“We’re going back to France,” she said with tears in her eyes.

“For Christmas?” Francesca asked her. It sounded like fun to her, but Marya shook her head.

“For six months, maybe longer. A year. Charles-Edouard has some business to do. He wants to close his restaurant, and find something else. He needs to tie up the details on the property settlement with his wife. And we need to spend some more time in Provence to finish the book. We just rented a house there. I hope you come and visit us,” she said, looking from Francesca to Chris, with tears brimming in her eyes. She didn’t want to leave. But she was half of a couple now, and she didn’t want to be here without him either. There were worse fates than spending a year in France, or even moving there, which they were discussing too.

Francesca looked shocked and very sad. “Are you selling the house in Vermont too?” Marya shook her head.

“I couldn’t. You can use it anytime you want. Charles-Edouard promised that we can spend a month there next summer. I don’t think we’ll be back before then.” His life was really in France, he had spent the past four months in the States for Marya, but he needed to get back. He had a lot to do there, and a business to run or sell. It was running off the rails in his absence. He had to go back and make some decisions.

Francesca couldn’t imagine the house without her now, nor could Chris. And he knew Ian would be sad too. She was like a grandmother to him, and much nicer and more present on a daily basis than the ones he had. He was the grandchild she would never have, especially since Charles-Edouard had no children either.

“I want you two to promise that you’ll come over to see us, whenever you want. We’re family now,” she said, hugging both of them. They felt that way too.

They went up to Francesca’s living room then to talk about their plans. Chris put Ian to sleep in his own bed, and the child had never stirred as he carried him upstairs. And then he came down and lit a fire.

Francesca asked them if they were getting married, and Marya smiled. “Not yet. But Charles-Edouard has been very well behaved! I’m impressed.” And so were they. He was still totally French in all the best ways, but his roving eye seemed to have been checked. He only had eyes for Marya. She trusted him completely, and he assured her she was right to do so. He had never said that to his wife. He was an honest man, even if he hadn’t been a faithful one until now. He had always admitted to his affairs when asked. He didn’t lie to Arielle, nor would he to Marya.

Marya said they had only decided to go back to France in the past few weeks. And it had been a hard decision for her. But it made sense and felt right to both of them, and was a whole new life for her, and for them.

“When are you leaving?” Francesca asked with bated breath.