French Husband's sister... Soizic (an old name from Brittany) was a firecracker who knew how to razzle, dazzle and most of all pop. She was beautiful, stunning chic... when she walked into a room she commanded attention a pleasure she enjoyed. Her smile winning the way of what she wanted, yet underneath, the certainty of a fox who knew how to use her teeth. I was cautious from the moment I met her, which had only been thirty six hours early.
My soon to be sister in law and I shared the brocante bug, something I knew at once when I sat at her table, the day before, for Easter lunch. Soizic's collection of dishes, silverware, linen and stemware were beautiful, she had an artistic, antique enthusiast touch. The transferware's unique pattern, the etched stemware with a 1920s design, the silverware with mother of pearl handles... and the vase in the center holding a cascade of roses. As I did not speak French I admired Soizic's home. We communicated without words, admiration can create a cozy place of comfort, it is easy to detect, which allows a space of acceptance, understanding... a dialog without having to say a word.
Sozic asked where her brother was, I pointed upstairs since I didn't speak French. Then she pointed to the linen closet. What was I to say? To this day I can still see the tip of her tongue dabbing her red painted lip as she opened the closet to feast on the linens with her family's monogram. She ran her hand down the stack, looked back at me with the most delicious smile, then pulled out a set tied with a blue satin ribbon: Set of twelve linen serviettes with the thickest large monogram, she wrote the number down, tossed her head back with glee, reached in and took out a few more stacks. I ran upstairs... I had to get that man out of the dark attic and into the linen light.
French Husband was sitting in the same place, the dust had settled and he was absorbed in some magazine about God knows what. He was content, I was flustered. For him it was uncomfortable to be sorting through his Great Uncle's house. For me it was nothing short of a dream. We stood on opposite sides of the spectrum, and yet there he sat not knowing at all what I was thinking.