| THREE+ WISHES |

| chapter 6 |

× BOULEVERSEMENT • masculine noun ×

a violent or sudden change or disruption to something

The Delcourts' property was nothing like I had imagined. First of all, it was not traditional in any way. No half-timbered facade, no exposed stone walls and no sea view. The house was actually situated by a small wood just outside of Trouville-sur-Mer, Holetown-by-the-Sea in English and yes, I had laughed at the name.

The facade was contemporary: a mix of wood, metal and huge bay windows like I had seen many in America. Or rather, like I had seen many in Hollywood movies about billionaires. This house here must have cost an eye, that was for sure but again, I was not surprised. I knew the Delcourts were well-off or else they wouldn't be able to pay me twice the French minimum wage for a non-qualified au-pair job.

Charles parked his fancy car in front of the house, honking twice as Hugues and I got out. The air here was pure and invigorating: a mix of freshly cut grass and sea breeze. The end of July was probably more enjoyable here than in the stagnant heat of Paris.

As I spun around, I spotted a tall blonde woman, who did not appear to be much older than any of us, walking out of the house, heels not even swaying on the gravel. I knew for sure I'd crash within seconds were I to do the same.

"Salut." Master-of-heels-and-gravel casually said, greeting Hugues and Charles with a bise. The trio exchanged a few words before shifting their gazes towards me.

'Smile' Mom's voice ordered in my head as the blonde woman scanned me from head to toes. And despite Mom being thousands of miles away and men ot having to obey her every word, I felt myself force a smile to my face.

Awkward smile 101 lesson by me.

"You are Evangeline." The woman stated in a heavily accented English. She was in front of me in two strides. Growing more familiar with the bise tradition, I took a step closer too, leaning towards her.

"Nuh-uh. A handshake." She objected, shoving her manicured hand right in my too close for her taste face.

Way to make a good first impression, Ev! My smile froze as I leaned away from her, shaking her cold hand. Which she immediately after wiped on her jeans.

Bitch.

I wasn't dirty!

"I am Camille Delcourt." She pursued; cutting short my trail of thoughts–insults.

So she was my employer. I was tempted to bypass the customary 'nice to meet you' but the education I had received from my parents got the most of me and I blurted the words out. Shouldn't have. Camille Delcourt didn't even bother replying and switched back to French with the two boys who had driven me here.

No Luck Notebook bucket list. Have a rude employer: check.

After taking my luggage off the trunk (Handle broke as I was elevating the biggest suitcase in the air, the sixty pounds falling, crumbling my toes in the process.), Camille showed me inside the house.

It was as modern as on the outside: crisp white walls, polished concrete floors and designer furniture. I bet the contemporary  in the entrance could cover my college fees for a year.

"No shoes in the house." Charles notified me as I almost got lost in admiring the suspended staircase. His English was much better than the one of his young step-mother, almost flawless actually.

I put on the sleepers he offered in place of my dirty sneakers before leaving suitcases and bags behind to follow Camille Delcourt to the living area.