Category Archives: dot dot dot

Jeanne delicately spooned the fragrant broth at the bottom of her bowl. She was so close to Eliza, she could smell the wine on her breath—the bottle she had purchased for the table, that she and Terrence drank like water. Jeanne had enough, but was afraid if she drank too much she would reveal too much—feel more comfortable than she oddly did already.

If Jeanne was honest there was some—not a lot—but some resentment of Eliza and her mother. They were the chosen ones. Her father did not know about her, but he had not chosen Jeanne and her mother. And while her childhood was fine, she always knew that she lived the alternate life. Eliza had a mother and a father.

Her father.

And now here she was, so close she could smell the wine flowing from Eliza’s tongue. She poured wine for Jeanne, and she thanked her as she took a quick sip.

Terrence looked at Eliza in a way that let Jeanne know if she was not there it would be an intimate night for them. Eliza smiled at him in a soft tipsy way, like a young girl with a young crush. Eliza had a presence that made her elegant and accessible at once. She had a lot of Jeanne’s style to be honest, there was such a similarity Jeanne was surprised she did not run into Eliza all of the time.

But then Jeanne travelled a lot, and lived part of the time in France where her grandmother had a home. Jeanne was very proud of her French roots, and she did have that certain je ne sais quoi. Terrence looked at her approvingly to indicate he thought she was attractive, but his interests did not stray from Eliza.

“It’s been a lovely night Jeanne, I am happy you decided to spend some time with us, cheers!”

They all clinked glasses, and Jeanne felt a trickle of wine on her wrist. When she looked down, she saw it was midnight. She looked up like she was about to turn into a pumpkin.

“It’s midnight,” she said.

“On Friday, a lovely thing, the night is still filled with possibilities…” Eliza smiled. “I live right around the corner. This is my cafe now, I am here all of the time. I just moved, I…” Eliza faltered. “You might have noticed in the news, but I am sure you read the arts and more worthwhile things. I just had a very public breakup, and I am just trying to get my footing.”

“I did not want to mention it,” Jeanne said softly.

Eliza smiled.

“Because you are classy, you know you remind me of my father, not sure what it is about you. He had the same quiet manner like you.”

Jeanne felt her mouth go dry.

“Your father is dead, you said had?”

Eliza sobered as she nodded her head, and Jeanne nodded as if she knew too.

Beethoven’s Symphony Number 9 came up louder around them.

Jeanne might be feeling a little discord right now, follow her story every Fleur Friday. Follow Eliza’s story here. This week the Wicked Wednesday theme was symphony, which you can read more of here.

image via wikipedia

Jeanne hugged Karys, before she got out of her car and walked up to her apartment. In her apartment, she wrapped her arms about herself. Thoughts of Mal filled her head, he had been texting her floral texts since she left.

She really was his Fleur.

She liked spending time with Karys who was like a sister to her, and even more. It was ironic that she was so close to a friend like this, when she actually had a sister who she did not know—and did not want to know.

Her father had left her mother before she was born, and her mother never said she was pregnant. Why would she have? Her father was marrying another woman, and she was not the type of woman who wanted to trap a man. She raised Jeanne on her own, and Jeanne never wanted for anything. Her childhood was a fanciful one, that fueled her creativity and made her a writer. She was working as a writer as a teenager getting paid, and never stopped getting paid for it.

It was not until her mother died, that she found through her mother’s things pictures of a man that she clearly looked like and in her mother’s journal entries she discovered his name and saw pictures of him with his wife…

…and daughter.

The life that Jeanne did not have with a mother and father, was given to his other daughter, Eliza.

Eliza Morton was an art specialist, and socialite who was getting married to a wealthy businessman. She often saw pictures of her in newspapers and magazines. Jeanne sometimes had articles concurrently in the periodicals, and so she and her sister would be in them at the same time.

Jeanne was padding barefoot around her apartment, when she picked up the paper and skimmed through it. Pages in, indeed, she did see a photo Eliza but she clutched the paper tightly when she read the caption.

Eliza Morton heads to work with a gourmet coffee and looks elegant as one of the artworks she sells, days after her rumored split from her fiance.

Jeanne felt something stir inside of her, that she had never felt before. It had always seemed to her that Eliza was the lucky one, it never occurred to her that Eliza had problems or anything unhappy in her life. She had their father’s love, the rich fiancé and Jeanne felt like the bohemian Cinderella step-sister. But now, now she wondered if Eliza was happy and if she needed someone—a sister to be there for her.

She had never wanted to meet Eliza before. But she wondered if now was the time when she felt like this, seeing her in print.

More Fleur Friday here, and read more about Eliza here.