The next evening Julian and I ambled along the garden path out back as the day faded into shadows and crickets tuned up for their nightly refrain. The scents of jasmine and frangipani filled the air, making me think of the neem tree where Bounmy and I had picnicked.
Julian had joined Catherine and me for dinner, saying he’d had enough of nights out drinking with André. He’d spent the meal detailing the steps for setting up his business, as if responding to questions at a job interview. I wondered if he hoped to convince Catherine that he was sincere about moving forward. She nodded encouragement and offered to help in any way, while I silently noted that after a week at home, the only thing he’d accomplished was a brief meeting with Bounmy. Nothing seemed urgent to him.
Now Julian held up a hand. “The breeze off the river feels wonderful. Walking out here with you is so much nicer than drinking at Pierre’s with André.” He gave a soft laugh. “He’s always a bad influence, I’m afraid.”
I kept quiet, still skeptical about a friendship with Julian, even though he’d vowed I was more than welcome in their home and asked for a second chance. His attentions early in the evening at Marguerite’s birthday party had pleased me—being twirled around the room to the music—but André’s inexcusable insults had ruined the night. The fact that Julian was close friends with such a person gave me pause.
He glanced over sheepishly. “I suppose I can’t really blame André.”
I couldn’t let the moment pass. “André said a number of things I found very upsetting Saturday night. Doesn’t his behavior disturb you?”
“I apologize. Catherine already gave me a dressing down. We drank so much, I don’t even recall half the evening or what was said, and I’m sure André doesn’t remember anything.” He hung his head.
“Being drunk is not a good enough excuse.”
“You’re right, of course. I understand perfectly why you would feel insulted, but if you knew him as well as I do, you’d discover he’s not a bad person at heart. He babbles on about things, trying to be clever and funny, wanting people to like him, but not realizing how offensive his comments can be.”
“I think he wants to impress you as much as anyone,” I said. “He doesn’t know how to compete with your looks and charm.”
Julian started, a tinge of pink creeping up his face. “Heavens. I never would have thought that.”
We continued around the pathway, silence hanging between us like an unwelcome guest.
“I promise to talk with him—while he’s sober—and make him realize how inappropriate his behavior was,” he said at last. “He owes you an apology.”
He brushed the hair back from his forehead. “By the way, I called Prince Savang today and we have a tennis match scheduled Thursday evening. Perhaps you’d like to watch.”
“That would be fun.” I jumped at the chance of seeing Bounmy again.
“Have you ever played?”
I shook my head. “The only sport we played at school was badminton.”
Julian brightened. “Then I’ll teach you.”
I glanced over at him. “I’m not sure…”
“I have something tomorrow, but we can go Wednesday and make a start of it.”
“On Wednesday Mali and I are visiting the elderly woman I met.” I had explained about my unexpected meeting with Madame Lansay. “I want to talk with her again to see if she remembers anything else. Bounmy—I mean, Prince Savang—is writing to a friend in Luang Prabang to see what he can find out about my mother’s family.”
“How considerate of him.”
“Yes.” I gave a little sigh. “I seem to be endlessly waiting for answers. Every day I come home from work hoping to find another letter from Pakse about my brother, and now I’m waiting again for news from Luang Prabang.”
“I’m sure it’s frustrating.” He swatted at a mosquito buzzing near his ear. “Learning tennis will be perfect for keeping you busy, in the meantime. We can go to the club early on Thursday, and I’ll show you some basic moves before the prince arrives.”
I was about to protest when Mali called from the back door, “Mademoiselle Vivi, you have a phone call.”
I hurried to the house, wondering who could possibly be calling me. When I reached Mali, she gave a conspiratorial shrug and whispered, “It’s your prince.”
My hand trembled as I picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Geneviève, it’s Bounmy. I’m glad to catch you at home,” he said, as if I must have a busy social calendar taking up all my free time. “I’ve been thinking about our nice day together and wondered if you’d be free next Sunday?”
“Yes. Yes, Sunday is fine.” I cringed, knowing I sounded overeager.
“Shall we meet in front of Wat Sisaket at one o’clock? I’d like to visit a temple outside of town that is very old. We can take a picnic again.”
I agreed, then said, “Julian told me you’re playing tennis Thursday and invited me to come watch. I hope you don’t mind.”
He was silent a moment. “Of course not. I’ll be delighted to see you then, as well. So, until then, goodnight.” Abruptly he was gone, and the receiver issued a noise like a slow-moving bumble bee searching for pollen.
I turned around to find Julian standing in the doorway to the salon with his back to me. I wondered if he was eavesdropping.
I followed him into the room, where Catherine was sitting. “I hear you’re going to learn to play tennis,” she said. “I’ll loan you one of my tennis outfits.”
“Thank you, but I’m not sure if—”
“We can play doubles sometimes, as well,” she interrupted. “That’s a good way to start. It’s great fun.”
“Am I allowed to play without belonging to the Cercle?” The idea turned my stomach, as I could imagine the disgruntled, rude stares of French members on seeing my presence.
“You’ll be our guest,” Julian said. “No one will care.”
It seemed pointless to try to convince Julian how many Frenchmen did care about the intrusion of an uninvited métis into their sacred world. But he and Catherine seemed determined to draw me into their plans, and I couldn’t think of a polite way to refuse.