Chapter 22

"I don't understand! Why hasn't anyone seen them? Where could they have gone?" Tiffany finally raised her voice in desperate hopelessness. They had been scouring the city for three days straight, and not a soul in the god forsaken place had even caught a glimpse of her family.

Stepping out of the simple post office, a sharp stab of homesickness caught her in the chest. Oh, how she wished she were in her bed, looking out at the pretty little town of Salisbury. Oh, how she longed to hear her mother's nagging and her father's booming laughter. Oh, how drab and uncomfortable Sébastien's cottage was! She knew she was being ungrateful but she couldn't help comparing, and when she did, her heart sank so deep, she was sure it would go through the floor and never rise. Even the thought of returning to the cottage made her feel trapped, the small, meager bed, the rough wooden flooring, the emptiness of the bare rooms… God, she dreaded returning. Yet, there was no place else to go.

"Cold day, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is rather cold. I'll get the fire going when we reach home." Tiffany said in defeat.

Sébastien stopped walking and looked at her for a moment, then suggested, as though he had read her mind, "No, let's not go home just yet. I'll bring you somewhere. I think you'll like it. Come on!" Had he known how she thought about his cottage in comparison to her home? She felt a little guilty, but she was so glad that she was going somewhere that the little pang of guilt couldn't bring down her suddenly high spirits.

She thought she had stepped into a different world altogether. A warm amber radiance glowed from the small but charming café. The fire in the fireplace crackled merrily, undisturbed by the blizzard outside. The proprietors were a jolly couple with jolly bodies and faces, jolly red noses, and were of a jolly old age.

"Bonsoir, Sébastien! How's my boy been lately? I see you've brought home a girl!" the kindly old woman gave simultaneously gave Sébastien a playful pat on the bottom. "Now, tell me, girl. He didn't do anything to you, did he?"

Tiffany grinned, then asked innocently, "Does kissing me to save my life count?"

"Did he? Now, now, boy. How many times do I have to remind you that saving the poor girl's life isn't an excuse for kissing her?" the old woman looked over the counter and placed her hands on her hips. The old man, on the contrary, poured them coffee and winked.

Over the piping hot coffee and warm teasing, Tiffany become more relaxed than she had ever been since she arrived in Paris. Sébastien's eyes twinkled and sparkled with the same amusement the old couple shared. How lucky they must be, Tiffany thought, how sweet to be together for so long and share such warmth.

The couple persuaded them without much effort to stay for dinner, and over dinner, she learnt that they were Sébastien's second parents, so to speak. Mr. and Mrs. Badeau found him wandering the streets of Paris alone and 'adopted' him. It was in this coffee house that he grew up, under the care of the couple who treated him like their own. She could just picture him as a young boy with blond locks, chatting with the customers and perhaps sneaking away with one of Mrs. Badeau's freshly baked cookies.

"Sébastien! Sébastien! Please take a look at my model fort!" the same earnest little boy clambered down the stairs. She remembered his name, Louis, but she remembered even better his seemingly boundless energy and untainted innocence.

"That boy has been spending all of his time lately on that model fort. It's quite a fine one too, I must say. I still remember those days when you used to lock yourself in the room for hours, and finally run to me saying the same thing," the old man gazed affectionately at Sébastien.

Sébastien chuckled in reply, "Yes, Dada, I remember too. How you would then take a look at it and end up spending the whole day improving it with me. Then, Nana would nag at us for abandoning our chores."

"Sébastien, please?" Louis prompted, eager to return to his model fort. With a pat on the head, Sébastien rose and disappeared with Louis to an upstairs room.

An amiable silence fell over the three remaining people in the room. The old man returned to his papers, and the old lady prepared the chocolate tiramisu she had promised Sébastien. Having nothing to do, Tiffany offered to help and the two women worked quickly.

"Your accent is different. Are you not French?" Nana asked as she spread cream on the pan.

"No, my home is in England. I was on a trip with my parents when I met Sébastien. That wasn't too long ago, actually, just a few days ago."

"Ah. Are you staying for long?" Nana enquired. After a moment of consideration, Tiffany told Nana about her situation. Then, she wondered why she told Nana everything. The woman just had a certain warmness about her that made one feel at ease around her. Already, she loved his 'parents'.

"May God be with you in your search," Nana's soothing voice coaxed. But just as her whole body relaxed at the cozy sense of homecoming she experienced in the café, Nana examined the stone on her finger and continued with sincere concern, "Should you not succeed, you are more than welcome to move into the extra room upstairs. We wouldn't want you falling in love with Sébastien when you already are engaged, now would we?"