Céline in France, 2014–2016

THE GRAND OPENING OF LE Mas Ondine was stimulating enough to assuage some of my grief. Now that I was a full partner in the mas, I was less inclined to brood about the past or worry about the future. I was taking that one step at a time, even though it was a terrifying thrill to be hurtling through life’s challenges with Gil. Every time I saw his face, after being apart for even just a few hours, I felt my entire being flooded with joy. And because I saw this exuberance mirrored in his gaze as well, I threw away the inhibitions that had once served as my armor, and I put my faith in the strength of being unarmed.

When I wasn’t working with Gil on the menus and bookings, I was busy with makeup jobs on movie shoots in Europe. I could afford to be selective about assignments now, and I took an apartment in Cannes as my new business base, since so many Hollywood companies were filming abroad these days. Meanwhile Gil won his second Michelin star for our restaurant, Pierrot. And things looked promising for the future of the newly opened hotel, too. But the competition at this level was more fierce than any I’d ever known, and it kept us on our toes.

“We’re booked up for most of next year,” Gil reported one bright morning at the mas. While he spoke, the postman came zooming up in his little car to deliver the mail. When he saw us standing in the doorway he deposited the letters in Gil’s hands with a brisk Bonjour! then tipped his cap and drove on.

“This one’s for you,” Gil said, sorting through the envelopes and handing one to me. It was from the twins’ lawyer. A check was enclosed representing my share of my parents’ estate. Gil watched as I read the amount aloud for his amusement.

“Two thousand five hundred dollars,” I said, showing it to him. If I had ever considered sharing some of my good fortune with Danny and Deirdre, this final fillip from them clinched my resolve to never have anything to do with them again.

Gil shook his head. “The bandits!”

“I think I’ll donate it to that little church nearby,” I said, recalling how the sweet sound of its old-fashioned bells pealing gently on Sunday had comforted me when I returned from America.

Months passed before Deirdre saw a restaurant review and got wind of the fact that Gil and I were “an item”. This prompted her to send a Christmas card signed with an uncharacteristic, So, what’s new with you??!! But she and Danny never found out about the painting; my entire Picasso escapade remained a secret among Gil, me, our lawyers and Gil’s friend Paul who bought the Girl-at-a-Window.

And, of course, dear Aunt Matilda. Gil unexpectedly insisted that we share the good fortune from the sale of the painting with her in order to help her hold on to her house in Connecticut. He said, “Thanks to you, Céline, we’re going to make much more money now that we’ve got the mas in full swing again. That’s enough for me. So, use whatever you need from my share of the painting’s sale to help your aunt, and anything else you feel you need to do. Of course, she and her friend Peter are welcome to stay at the mas as our guests any time they like.”

“Yes, I do want to help out Aunt Matilda,” I agreed. “But I’m also going to set aside enough money so that we never, ever again have to go to a loan shark to hold on to Le Mas Ondine!”

I didn’t really think there could be any more big surprises in store for me. I was wrong.