The Butler(28)

“I forgot,” she admitted.

“I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

“I love my new bed, by the way.” She liked the store he had taken her to, and once again, the prices had been reasonable and the products high-quality. “Maybe you should become a decorator, if you don’t find a job you want as a butler.”

“This isn’t decorating yet,” he reminded her. “This is basics.” But they had covered them all in a single day in a matter of hours. He had set up many houses and apartments for his employer’s children.

He made a quick run for groceries for her before he left, and left her at six-thirty, having accomplished three days’ work in one. She couldn’t believe how fast he worked or how capable he was. And she agreed with him, he’d have her new place set up for her in no time.

He was watching French football on TV when his mother got home. He looked energized and happy, and she was pleased to see it. She had shared some very heavy information with him only days before, and she was relieved to see he didn’t seem depressed about it. Maybe the truth was a relief, and if anything, it had brought them closer to each other.

    “So how was the first day of school? How do you like the teacher?” she asked him, as she took off her shoes and sat down on the couch next to him. He turned to her with a big grin.

“It was fun. Ikea, Darty, we bought a bed, picked out everything for the kitchen, and bought enough tools and practical items to build a house. Vacuum cleaner, microwave, toaster. She’s all set. EDF for electric, Orange for the phone and Internet, and Engie for gas.”

“My God. I’ll have to send you out on all my errands. I need a new iron.”

“Happy to do it. She’s actually very nice to work for. Quiet, respectful, polite. She doesn’t talk too much, knows what she wants, makes quick decisions, and she’s very organized.” He wasn’t used to working for women like her. She was considerably younger and more efficient than the women he’d known in his job. The marchioness led a sheltered, protected life and handled no details about the home, except selecting menus. And the Cheshires’ daughters and daughters-in-law had never had jobs or taken care of themselves. And their sons were equally indulged and inefficient. Joachim had organized everything for all of them.

“Is she married?”

He had told his mother on Saturday that Olivia had no children. “No. I don’t know if she has a boyfriend or not. Probably not, or she wouldn’t need me. But there’s nothing helpless about her. She just needed someone to do all the things she can’t, and she lets me do my job without sitting on top of me to check it. It’s not a butler job, but it’s actually quite a lot of fun. It’ll be exciting to see it all come together. I’m sort of a project manager for her move and installation.”

“At least it’ll keep you from reorganizing my closets again. I can’t find my red sandals, and I can’t reach my hats on the shelf you put in. You can organize hers now.” He laughed.

    They continued buying small things Olivia needed for the next two days, he introduced her to the confusing wonders of the BHV, and on Thursday he took her to his mother’s favorite auction house, the H?tel Drouot. Olivia had a ball there. It was a treasure hunt in fifteen auction rooms, with new auctions every two days. Forty-five auctions a week. They placed bids on two very handsome leather chairs, and a white lacquer chest for her bedroom. On Friday, she found out that her bids were successful. She had had a very enjoyable week, and Ikea was installing her new kitchen on Monday, the same day the bed was due to arrive. The owner didn’t mind her having things delivered or installed a few days early. She wasn’t rushing to move in. She wanted to set everything up first, so she wouldn’t be moving in to chaos. She had found very decent dining room chairs at Ikea. They were exact copies of some she had and liked in her New York apartment, for a fraction of the price.

On Saturday, they went to the flea market together, and walked for hours poking through shops and stalls in the various markets that were a jumble of junk and some beautiful objects all thrown in together. All of it was negotiable. She found a very handsome coffee table, in good condition, two more vintage leather chairs that would look well with the first ones she’d bought at auction, and two paintings she loved. One for the bedroom, and a good-sized one for the living room. Joachim liked them too, and complimented her on her choices.

“I think even my mother would love them,” he said when they stopped for a cup of coffee. They had walked for miles.

    “Does she enjoy art?” Olivia responded.

“She’s an art expert,” he said quietly. “And my stepfather was an expert at the Louvre. He did the authentication of all their new acquisitions. That’s how they met. My mother was a curator at the National Museum of Fine Arts in Buenos Aires. He got her a job at the Louvre when she first got here after they married. And then she went to work for a different organization. They work in conjunction with the Louvre at times. She researches stolen paintings to track down the rightful owners.”

“How interesting. That must be fascinating.”

“It is, and heartbreaking sometimes. She works on finding the art that was stolen by the Nazis and returns it to the heirs of the original owners, whenever possible.” He was even more proud of her now that he knew why she did it. Olivia looked at him for a moment over their coffee, sitting on two chairs outside one of the flea market stalls.