Chapter Text
The air was warm and carried the scent of fresh flowers that fine afternoon in Paris. The threat of rain hung overhead, but it wasn’t predicted to rain until later that evening. The crowds kept the street filled with a soft murmur of conversations. An adult child helping their elderly parents carry their groceries home. A busker playing a violin for tips from tourists and passersby alike. Even a young couple whispering about their upcoming date night could be heard.
All that noise did little to drown out the thoughts of one young lady. Walking down the street with her eyes downcast and a slight hesitancy in her step was the daughter of two of Paris’ most exacting food critics. Marianne Vacher, known to her loved ones as Manon, was not feeling the bright mood of the people around her.
See, the issue was that she had recently ended her relationship with her boyfriend Rody Lamoree. He was a great guy, don’t get her wrong! He was as devoted to her as a dog was to their owner and he was quite handsome. Not to mention that bright smile of his…
But there was something far more pressing that pushed Manon into ending her relationship. Rody was…well he wasn’t anywhere near ready to have a girlfriend. He treated her well, mind you! She often felt like a princess at times given how much attention he lavished onto her. But therein lies the problem.
Rody worked himself to the bone and had given up a lot of his dreams and aspirations. Any time he seemed to be getting ahead in life he just simply threw it all away. All because he wanted to make Manon happy. So, he’d work menial jobs for a pittance and skip out on meals at times just so he could buy her some little trinket that had caught her eye. The interests he used to blather on and on about were thrown to the wayside in favor of whatever Manon was interested in.
While Manon couldn’t doubt that Rody’s heart was in the right place when he did those things, she also couldn’t stand what doing those things meant. The way he often worked himself into the ground until he somehow managed to drag himself into a more workable condition. The way he opted to scarf down unhealthy fast food instead of taking the time to cook something more nutritious at home. Although given the burn marks on his ceiling from the time he tried to make her popcorn for their at-home movie date, she couldn’t entirely blame him for avoiding the kitchen.
He lived in a run-down apartment that was notorious for being behind on getting maintenance work done, all so he could scrimp and save just to make sure he had a shoestring budget for himself, and he had plenty to use to take care of her. Well, Manon couldn’t take that anymore.
It felt wrong and cruel to just end things with Rody. She still couldn’t get the image out of her mind of his eyes getting dull while filling with tears and the hysterical tone in his voice as he begged her to stay. The way he got onto his knees and literally begged her as though she was the only reason he got up in the morning. The only reason he breathed and did everything that he did. That everything was for her…
Manon knew that was likely true and she knew that was how Rody felt but…She couldn’t in good conscience stand there and watch the one she loved so dearly deteriorate before her eyes. He deserved a better life than that and Manon wasn’t sure how else to get him to see that than to simply not be a part of it. For now, anyways. She would give him some time and a little space to grow up.
Maybe if he made some changes, she would take him back but…She wouldn’t string him along or get his hopes up too high. Rody needed to change because he wanted to change, not because he wanted to take her out to dinner. So, she ignored his phone calls that he thought would win her back over. She didn’t send him a thank you letter when he dropped off flowers at her doorstep to celebrate her first article being picked up by a magazine. She didn’t write letters to him that she knew he’d reply to with all the love he could muster into his pen…
It hurt to see him hurting so much. It hurt to see him when he worked those shifts at La Gueule de Saturne and how his face lit up when he expected to see her at the door only to deflate when he saw that it was just another usual customer. It hurt to hear him talking to his boss as they closed up the restaurant. How Rody had begged for just a small raise so he could take Manon out on the town in the style that she deserved. The sheer desperation in his voice to make things right in the only way he knew how...
‘What ever am I to do? He’s not getting any better and…,’ Manon paused when she found herself in front of a shop she didn’t recognize.
The shop was called Le Vin de Circé and it looked quite tidy out front. Over the top of the cherrywood door was a light blue awning. The windows were made of the same cherrywood as the door and complimented the wrought iron tables and chairs outside of the shop. The tables had umbrellas over top the same shade of blue as the awning. Even the walls of the shop’s exterior complimented the whole thing with its combination of stone and cream-colored siding.
Within the shop’s display window was a delectable variety of desserts. There were macrons in every color Manon could think of and then some. Rich looking mille-feuilles layered with heavenly looking cream and chocolate. Even the cakes looked tempting with their garnishes of fresh fruits and piped icing. And was that a croquembouche in the-
“See something you like, dear?” A woman’s voice caught Manon’s attention.
She turned to see a middle-aged woman standing in the doorway of the shop. She wore a light blue dress that came to her ankles and a white apron over top of it. Her brown and gray hair was tied back into a neat bun that was covered by a white scarf that was dotted with embroidered flowers. Given the jam stain on her apron, or at least Manon hoped that it was a jam stain, this woman must work at the shop if not own it.
“O-oh! Forgive me madam. I was just lost in thought,” Manon smiled politely after realizing that she had been staring a bit at the woman.
The woman walked forward and took Manon’s hands into her own, “You needn’t apologize mademoiselle. Come, tell Auntie Madeleine all about your troubles.”
“I-if you insist,” Manon replied with a slightly anxious smile.
“And I do. Come, come. I have some coffee in the back and I’m sure that my helpers could mind the shop for me while we talk,” Madeleine replied as she led Manon into the shop.
The inside of the shop was decorated much like Manon had expected. Little tables with delicate tablecloths over top and vases of fresh flowers on top of each table. The walls were lined with photographs of desserts and flowers. The walls were also papered with a delicate fleur-de-lis pattern in that same white and blue color scheme Madeleine had picked for her shop's exterior. It gave the shop the grandmother’s kitchen type of vibe that allowed the customer to feel welcomed and at home before they shelled out their cash for whatever baked treat caught their eye.
“Tristan! Isolde! I have a guest, so watch the shop for me,” Madeleine called as she led Manon towards the back.
The man at the counter, Tristan, gave a lazy wave as he returned his attention to the magazine in his hands. His bright eyes, a color that was a brown with a bit of a purplish-reddish tone to it, was two shades lighter than his mop of hair. His rich tan looked especially nice against the blue uniform he was wearing. The woman, Isolde, snatched the magazine from his hands and rolled it up before smacking Tristan on the head with it. Her bright silver eyes contrasted sharply against her deep black hair. Despite her petite stature, it looked like she could pack a hell of a smack with that magazine.
“Yes Madame Olivier! We will make sure that all customers that come in are tended to and that the shop is clean,” Isolde replied as she made Tristan stand up.
Tristan bowed to Madeleine, “If I may be excused to tend to the trash in the back.”
Isolde rolled her eyes as Madeleine waved a hand, “By all means dear, but please come back on time. I may have another job for the two of you.”
Before Manon could ask what sort of job Madeleine was talking about, she was led to the back area of the shop. She passed by the kitchen, which smelled heavily of vanilla and baking spices. Maybe Manon would bake something when she got home. Baking always set her mind at ease…