Author's Note: Yay! Another update. Here I expand a little on Lisa's world that we never see. While I doubt we'll ever see Lisa's France and her vacation home in Toulon, much less any of her friends there, I've held off for the time being going into any kind of explicit detail about these things. (What if one day we see these things and we meet some people Lisa has mentioned, and my personal descriptions are way off?) Anyway, here's Chapter Three.

Food For Thought

Lisa was awakened from a dead sleep by her iPhone alarm. Momentarily disoriented, she cracked open one eye to check the time on the device, wondering where she was and why the alarm's happy tones had roused her. Seconds later the haze of her sleepy brain cleared sufficiently for her to recall that she was in a hotel room in Paris.

Right, she thought, sighing with relief that she hadn't slept past some important appointment. I arrived here last night after that very rough flight from Toronto... Good Lord, that was the worst flight I've had in ages. Jack wouldn't have been a happy passenger if he'd been with me... Oh, if he'd been with me, I'd have held his hand the whole way, and that would have made things so much better…

But Jack hadn't been with her, of course. He was in Hudson, probably asleep. Asleep in his own bed—not that stupid hospital bed I rented for him, Lisa silently seethed, still feeling emotionally burnt that something so minor had lit the fuse on the powder keg that blew up their relationship.

With a huff of annoyance, she shut off the alarm and rolled onto her back, allowing her eyes to close again; head sunk in the pillow. It was 10:00 a.m. local time, and Lisa was at once grateful the thick curtains hanging in the room muted the glow of the sun's rays. January in Paris was usually on the bleak, dreary side, but the skies this morning were cloudless, giving way to bright sunshine. It was such a direct contrast to her gloomy mood, Lisa was tempted to pull the covers over her head, skip her flight to Toulon, and just camp out in this Paris hotel room for a month. But her friends, Frank and Brenda Dufresne, knew she was returning that afternoon and had invited her to dinner, so staying in Paris simply was not an option.

After another minute of just resting lightly, Lisa sat up in the large bed and threw back the duvet, knowing that she had a little under an hour to get to the airport for her flight to Toulon. Her stomach gave a low growl, making her realise the queasiness from the flight had passed and she was actually hungry.

I guess that's a good sign, Lisa thought as she slunk her drowsy way into the en suite bathroom to wash her face along with her usual morning rituals. In the bright vanity lights, Lisa noted the dark circles under her pale blue eyes as she stared at her reflection. Well, don't I just look wonderful this morning, she thought sarcastically. Her bangs hung limply over her forehead, the sight of which served only to exacerbate her low spirits. She loosened the hair band from her ponytail, allowing her dyed tresses to fall behind her neck. Idly, she pulled at some loose, lifeless strands that brushed her shoulder, regarding them seriously and dispassionately. Lisa pouted; not entirely convinced going dark was the best option this time around. Jack, for one, hadn't seemed interested in commenting on the change, if he had in fact noticed, and for the first time Lisa wondered why she bothered changing her colour at all. Because change is good every once in a while, one side of her brain argued; Yeah, try convincing Jack Bartlett of that, the other side shot back sourly. Mr. I-don't-like-change. I do not like it, Jack-I-am. I do not like it on a train; I do not like it on a plane… I do not like change! I do not like it on the range, I do not like it; it's too strange.

Lisa shook her head at her brain's silly corruption of the classic Dr. Seuss Green Eggs and Ham rhyming story. It was simply no use trying to push Jack out of her mind as every stray thought led right back to him. Nothing about leaving Hudson was feeling right, but if she couldn't be with Jack, staying there wouldn't feel right, either, not when she could run into him at any given time. With the knowledge solidly stamped into her consciousness that he wasn't interested in being with her, just the sight of him somewhere in town would be too painful. It would simply remind her of what she had lost and could never recover—not unless Jack had a major change of heart.

Memories of happier times played back on the screens of her mind like a grand, 3-D IMAX movie. They were rich, vivid images full of joy and warmth, and Lisa felt her heart fill with a longing to recapture those times. One outing usually stood out above the rest whenever she sorted through their past shared experiences, and that was the first time Jack had taken her to his private fishing cabin.

I didn't know fly-fishing was a team sport, Lisa remembered joking lightly as he'd encircled her in his strong arms while directing her on the finer points of casting his rod. They'd stood there in the river, gently swayed by the flowing waters, just the two of them, nestled in the shadow of the gorgeous, breathtaking Rocky Mountains. Without knowing quite how it happened, Lisa managed to hook a fish with Jack's line and he shared in her delight as he helped her reel it in. Both Jack and Lisa were sensing at that moment something very special was starting to occur between them.

Later, after Jack had hooked another couple trout, they retired to the cabin to get out of the bulky hip waders and prepare an early supper. Lisa remembered how Jack insisted on preparing the fish himself, right down to scaling, de-boning, and gutting them. You just relax, he'd said, I know you rarely give yourself a chance to just slow down and take it easy, what with keeping your business running all the time…

He'd been right, of course. The little piece of heaven that was Jack's fishing retreat had been one of the most restful escapades she'd had in a while. So she'd done as he instructed and watched while he busied himself at the fire, charmed by the sound of his gentle humming while he cooked. He did allow her to take care of one chore, which was to pop the cork on the bottle of wine she'd brought. Since the weather on that October afternoon was still quite mild, Jack suggested they eat outside in the fresh air.

Her earlier frustration at not being able to cast her own line was long forgotten, along with her rueful comment that it would probably have been much easier to get fish at a nice restaurant. Jack's cooking prowess was a revelation; fresh fish had never tasted better to Lisa in her life. Sharing conversation while they looked out on the gushing river brought Lisa to the knowledge of just how much she was missing in terms of this kind of companionship. Warmed by the meal, the wine and the gracious company of her host, it dawned on Lisa that she had quite possibly stumbled upon that proverbial diamond in the rough.

Jackson Bartlett, rodeo legend; Jack, years and years her senior, was opening up to her about his likes and dislikes; about his dearly departed wife, Lyndy… and Lisa felt so very gifted that Jack had somehow granted her a glimpse of his private world—a world she intuited very few were ever privileged to see—and she knew right then she was falling in love with him.

It seemed too crazy for words, since they were from such disparate worlds, but when Lisa met his gaze as they toasted each other—To whatever this is—she saw passion in his eyes that communicated to her his deep interest in wanting to get to know her on a more intimate level: one that went beyond an occasional friendly date or relaxing fishing expedition.

Now as she stood in the shower of her Paris hotel room, briskly scrubbing away the last vestiges of sleep from her jet-lagged limbs and from her tired eyes, Lisa pondered all the things that contributed to the souring of her relationship with Jack. Why did we let things go so wrong between us? Lisa let the sad question hover in her mind. The fault for the breakup wasn't entirely one-sided; she was honest enough to concede that much. We both have things to be sorry for… and I was asking to be reconciled before you had your heart attack. I flew back to Hudson to be with you. We just never got around to really digging in deep and facing our issues. That stupid bed got in the way.

Lisa stepped out of the shower to towel off and to dry her hair. She donned a comfortable pair of dark slacks and a white tailored silk long-sleeved blouse, knowing that a sweater would be too warm for when she landed in Toulon. Southern France would be enjoying much milder weather than bleak, mid-winter Hudson was. As much as she liked her new "vacation" home away from home, Lisa wasn't really looking forward to this return. Jack didn't like France, and it was clear they would never share any cheerful, relaxing moments in Toulon as they'd shared at Jack's rustic cabin.

We won't even have Arizona, Lisa thought dismally, remembering how they had made hasty plans to go there together once they knew Jack was going to be okay. I packed my bags full of "summer" clothes in anticipation of that trip… and in anticipation of making up. She stared at those bags now, piled up against one of the hotel room walls. The outfits she packed for Arizona wouldn't quite do for the dry but windy weather typical of Toulon, but she wouldn't exactly freeze in them, either.

A look at her iPhone told Lisa she should start making her way down to the lobby. Her hired driver would be there soon to whisk her off to the airport. Her stomach made rumbling noises again, reminding her she hadn't eaten since the night before. Maybe I'll swipe something quickly from the continental breakfast buffet, she decided. That'll tide me over until I get to Frank and Brenda's.


"…And they make you lie in there for almost an hour. Lie still, mind you. You can't move around. It corrupts up the images, I think; they do not tell you exactly why." Frank Dufresne was chattering on about his most recent medical adventure, which was an MRI of his head.

Lisa nodded sympathetically and took a sip of after-dinner espresso, trying her best to stay awake. She was sitting in the home of Frank and Brenda Dufresne, which was just a five minute drive from her own new place in Toulon. The Dufresnes were a childless couple in their fifties who seemed to be compensating for the lack of offspring with the acquisition of horses.

It was this love of horses and passion for discovering new breed stock that had led to first a working relationship between them and Lisa; as time went on, they managed to develop a close friendship.

The meal had been wonderful; Brenda was as near a Cordon Bleu chef one could be without actually having studied at Le Cordon Bleu. For dinner that evening, she'd prepared sautéed lamb noisettes, potatoes, and asparagus, all cooked to perfection and served as beautifully as any Michelin-starred eatery.

"You're my guinea pig," Brenda declared when Lisa had arrived. "I'm thinking of using this for my Easter menu, and I wanted to see how well it comes out."

"I love being your guinea pig," Lisa had said, and meant it. While she enjoyed dining at top quality restaurants during her times in France as she had done when Jack had come, Lisa was also happy to be spoiled by Brenda's culinary talents whenever she could.

But as she sat at the table now, trying to keep her eyes open, Lisa suddenly wondered what the Bartlett-Fleming-Morris family might be eating that night. Hmm… something hearty and wholesome at the same time, she imagined. A garden salad, mashed potatoes, meatloaf, and some seasonal vegetables, perhaps…

"…And you wouldn't believe the nurse!" Frank was continuing his story effusively, staring pointedly at Lisa to make sure he still had her attention. "That needle. She pokes me twice here," he said, tapping the crook of his right arm, "and still she does not find the vein. She has to try my left side and finally… success. It was for that contrast dye. You know, they say people can have a fatal reaction to it. They make you sign a waiver. Imagine!"

Lisa stifled a yawn, forcing herself to focus. She couldn't even remember why Frank had needed the MRI in the first place, and now he was going on about the deafening noises he was subjected to while being scanned. He then moved on to telling of the woman who had had a panic attack earlier in the MRI machine because she was claustrophobic.

Oh, my gosh, he just doesn't stop. Jack was right. Frank is boring! Why did I never notice this before? Lisa thought with a small measure of guilt. All he does is talk about his medical problems the whole time while everyone knows there's absolutely nothing wrong with him.

"So what's become of that old beau of yours?"

For a second Lisa didn't realise that Frank was addressing her. She snapped to attention and looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"You know, the old boy who would not remove that filthy cowboy hat no matter where we went," Frank continued, not the least bit aware his less-than-flattering assessment of Jack had caused a surge of indignation to rise within Lisa.

"You mean Jack," Lisa said pointedly, staring straight at her hypochondriac host.

Frank was still blithely unaware of the effect his callous description of Jack was having on his guest. "Yes! That's his name. I trust he is well, then? What was it, a trouble with the heart?"

"Uh, yes," Lisa murmured, as her stomach dropped in dread remembrance of when Lou had called to tell her about Jack's heart attack. She smiled tightly as she answered: "Jack's much better now, thank you…"

"Ah, bon," Frank said cheerily. "When will he be back to France? Soon, I hope; perhaps when he is fully recovered."

"Yes, Lisa," Brenda put in with enthusiasm. "It was so nice to meet him after all the times you talked about him. You were so happy to have him here. He makes you smile so much."

Lisa cleared her throat uncomfortably, wondering how to put the best spin on the breakup. She hadn't revealed to any of her friends in France that Jack had really despised his visit. At this moment, though, she was too tired to keep up any pretense that things were fine, and she stumbled through an explanation:

"Um, well, Jack and I… we're not together any more," she started slowly. "It turns out he isn't really into travelling. France just isn't his idea of a good time, and he'd been hiding his feelings from me about his visit for a long time. Things just sort of came to a head a few months ago and we had it all out: Things about what he hated during the trip to… well, everything… I felt the fool for believing he'd had a good time, and I… I guess I just felt like I didn't really know him as well as I thought I did."

Brenda reached out a sympathetic hand. "Oh, Lisa, I had no idea. I'm so sorry," she uttered with sincerity.

Lisa nodded. "I'm sorry, too," she said with a sad laugh, her brow buckling. "I kept hoping we'd make up; I even wrote to him telling him as much. Then Jack had his heart attack, and as you know, I flew back there as soon as I could. I… I'd hoped it would be the right time to make up, but I made some stupid mistakes, and now I'm paying the price. Jack wants nothing to do with me."

Frank grunted. "I think it is for the better," he commented dryly. Brenda shot him a look of consternation while Lisa just stared at him, shocked by this unsolicited opinion.

"After all, he is old enough to be your papa, Lisa," Frank continued with a shake of his head, as if he'd been against their relationship from the very beginning. "You and he… you are not, how they say, compatible."

Brenda scowled and narrowed her eyes in warning that her husband was treading on dangerous territory. "François," she hissed between clenched teeth, "that's enough."

For once, Frank stopped talking and turned to Brenda, open-mouthed.

"Lisa's had a long trip from Canada. She must be tired, and she does not need to be hearing all of this right now," Brenda said as diplomatically as possible.

You've certainly got that right, Lisa thought, holding in her emotions that were wildly seeking some form of release. But she knew if she didn't keep a solid lid on them, she would say something to Frank that she would regret. Her friendship with the Dufresnes was too well-established to repay one insensitive comment with another. Instead, Lisa allowed a yawn to escape. "I actually didn't realise just how tired I am until now," she stated as she pushed back her chair and stood. "Thank you both for having me over tonight. I always feel so welcome in your home."

Just not when you're dumping on my love life, or lack of it, Lisa mused, still smoldering under the surface due to Frank's unvarnished take on why she and Jack were doomed from the start. Both Brenda and Frank stood as Lisa did; Brenda looking quite dismayed at the unfortunate turn of events. Lisa caught her mortified expression and was grateful for it, but she felt she had to leave that house quickly.

Frank looked as if he wasn't sure what had caused Lisa's decision to depart so suddenly. He awkwardly followed behind Brenda as she scurried after Lisa's swiftly departing figure. At the door, they bid their guest good night.

"Sorry, Lisa," Brenda whispered as she kissed Lisa's cheek in a gesture of farewell. "He's an ass sometimes…"

"It's all right," Lisa replied quietly, wanting to impress upon her friend she did not expect her to apologize for Frank.

"Bonne nuit," said Frank jovially, patting Lisa on the shoulder with a little more force than was necessary, causing Lisa to cringe in discomfort.

"Good night, both of you," Lisa rejoined, and was finally out the door, chewing on the disturbing question of whether or not all her friends in France felt the same way about Jack as Frank did…


To be continued...