The Butler(7)

Joachim pointed to the newspaper. It was a fairly large ad for a butler school in England.

“That?” She looked surprised and he nodded. “Butler school? Why would you want to do that?” It sounded like another dead end to her, like all the jobs he had had since he’d dropped out of the Sorbonne.

“I don’t know. I’m not sure I do. But it sounds like fun, at least for a while anyway. Like a part in a movie.” He was twenty-five years old, and wanted a job that was fun, and so far none had been. He had no passions, like his mother’s love of art, or Francois’s. All he had was a bright mind, the strength of youth, and the fact that he spoke four languages, which wasn’t unusual in Europe. Many people did.

“You don’t need a part in a movie,” she said, frowning. “You need a real job, a career, something you’ll want to do at forty or fifty. Why would you want to be a butler? What gave you that idea?”

    “The ad makes it sound interesting. You learn to run a fine home, have a supervisory position over other staff, how to take care of silver, fine porcelain, and antiques, and impeccable service, how to serve at table. It sounds like a very varied and responsible job.”

“Those days are gone,” she reminded him. “Everyone had formal staff, in full uniform, in Argentina when I was a girl. I’m sure no one there does now. And I don’t think anyone has a butler here either.”

“They have them in England. That’s where the school is. The course lasts six months, it might be fun.”

“Would you want to work in England?” She was surprised. He was so Latin by nature. He’d been in France for eight years by then and was at home there.

“I don’t know where I want to work, or what I want to do. But I’ve got time to spare. I’m only twenty-five, Mom. I can afford to waste six months of my life, especially now, thanks to Francois.” He was frustrated by his own lack of direction, but nothing interested him and there was nothing he wanted to do.

“I don’t think he intended the money for you to study for a job you’ll never want.”

“Maybe I will want it. Maybe being the head man in a grand house would be interesting.”

“You need to do more in life than learn how to set a table,” she said sternly.

“I don’t think I’d mind a life of service. I kind of like the idea of keeping people’s lives in good order. I wouldn’t mind that at all, especially if the house is impressive. I have nothing else to do at the moment, and shoving furniture around at the auction house has no future either. It’s a laborer’s job. I don’t like leaving you, though. I could come home on weekends, while I’m taking the course.”

    “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine,” she said bravely. She wasn’t fine, but she thought that eventually she would be. And she didn’t want to stand in his way or be a burden to him. She just thought that being a butler sounded like a crazy idea with no future.

“I’ll call them and see what they have to say,” he said, and didn’t mention it again for the rest of lunch. They went for a walk together that afternoon, as she used to do with Francois on a Sunday afternoon, strolling in the park. She didn’t say it to Joachim, but now she had to adjust to one more person she loved missing from her life. It had happened to her much too often. Joachim thought the same thing, as he tucked her hand into his arm, and they walked along in silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts. She was thinking of Francois, and Joachim was silently mourning his stepfather and his brother and musing about butler school again. It sounded like a crazy idea to him too, but he had nothing else to do, and a lifetime ahead of him, with no set career plan. It might be amusing for six months. And nothing else appealed to him at the moment. Growing older was just no fun without his twin brother and hadn’t been for eight years. He had always thought that Javier would settle down once he got out of his teens, and they would be close again. And instead, he had disappeared.





Chapter 2


When Joachim went to London to visit the butler school two weeks later, he was surprised by how seriously they took themselves. He had asked a friend in Paris who was a desk clerk at the Crillon to check out the school for him. The friend had reported that people in the catering department had heard of it, although they’d never hired anyone who’d trained there. They said the school was respected, but mostly trained people who wanted to work in fancy homes for fancy people, usually in England. So at least it was known and reputable. The question for Joachim was whether that was what he wanted to do when he grew up. And his mother had a point. Did he want to work in England? The weather there was even more miserable than in Paris, nothing like Argentina. He still missed the warm weather and atmosphere in Buenos Aires. South America had a style and energy to it and an innate joie de vivre, a kind of lively, sexy undertone that he had encountered nowhere in Europe. Maybe a little bit in Spain and Italy, but he still preferred Argentina, even though he didn’t plan to go back there. He lived in France now. He didn’t want to leave the only relative he had, his mother, to go back to live in a country with a brother he hadn’t seen in eight years, and probably never would again. Now that Francois was gone, Joachim didn’t want to abandon his mother, and leave her alone at her age. But the chilly formality of England didn’t seem too appealing either.