Glances of the future

Chapter 4

It all began on Thanksgiving of that same year...

Gabriel was sitting on the Ritz's bar. The day was thanksgiving, around 9 p.m. He was waiting for an important fabric designer from Germany while sipping a glass of Remy Martin Louis XIII. He was reading a very interesting article on his phone when Nathalie Sancoeur's voice distracted from it.

-Mr. Wolff called, he won't be able to make it – she said in a calm voice. Deep within her, she knew Gabriel Agreste was going to outburst in anger.

He took his glasses off and put them on the table, he then put his hand on his forehead, and surprisingly for Nathalie, he started laughing.

He laughed for about a minute.

Nathalie muted in surprise; she only spoke when Gabriel finally stopped laughing.

-Sir? – she asked in a low voice.

-You are telling me I have been sitting in this bar for... - he glanced at his watch – an hour and fifteen minutes, just so Mr. Wolff decided not to show up?

-I am really sorry. His assistant...

-Another Remy, please – Gabriel asked the waiter.

-Right away, Mr. Agreste – said the waiter taking Gabriel's empty glass away.

-Sit – Gabriel asked Nathalie pointing out the chair in front of him.

-Sir, I don't think...

-Sit, please – he ordered.

Nathalie did as he instructed.

-You know, Americans celebrate Thanksgiving today. Let's give thanks.

Nathalie was starting to believe her boss was a little tipsy.

-Your work of the day is over, my work for the day is... clearly over. Order something– he said.

Yes, definitively tipsy.

-Sir, I...

-Madame? – asked the waiter, handing Gabriel his glass of cognac.

She let out a sigh.

-Beefeater dry martini, dirty. Three olives – said Nathalie.

-Wow, strong taste Miss Sancoeur – pointed Gabriel.

Nathalie had absolutely no idea why she had acquiesced her boss's petition. It was highly unprofessional to drink up with him. Yet, whenever he asked her to spend time with him, she couldn't refuse.

-Your martini, madame – the waiter handed Nathalie her glass.

Gabriel was waiting for her drink before he sipped his own.

-Alright, so in thanksgiving, Americans tell others what they are thankful for. You start.

-Uh-uh – denied Nathalie sipping her martini.

-I am politely asking you, Miss Sancoeur.

Nathalie rolled her eyes.

-Okay, let me think... - she stared at her glass- Alright, I am thankful to God for life and health (obviating her peacock cough attacks and dizzy spells), I am thankful to... you, for my job, for allowing me to look after Adrien. To Adrien, for his awesome morning texts wishing me a good day. Augustus and Penny for being such good friends. And... that bartender over there for making the best martini ever.

Gabriel laughed. -That was so lame.

-Uhh, excuse me, that was a perfectly acceptable thankful statement – she responded quite serious.

-Of course not, you are not understanding the whole thankful concept.

-Since when do you mind so much about thanksgiving, Sir? – asked Nathalie.

-It's like Christmas, or Valentine's, it's fun.

-You are not precisely the kind of man that has... fun – she stated.

-I celebrated Valentine's with Emilie, why not start celebrating Thanksgiving with you? – he asked.

Nathalie went silent. She didn't know what to say so she took some sips on her martini. Gabriel staring at her.

-Alright, why don't you show me how it's properly done, Sir – teased Nathalie. When fasting, alcohol tended to hit her faster.

-I will – he rearranged on his chair, and clearing his throat he began -Tonight, I would like to thank life for the opportunities it has given me, the doors it that has opened me and the wonderful people it has introduced me. I would like to thank Audrey Bourgeois for the great opportunity she gave me to grow as a designer. My family for their tireless support. My wife ... my wife ... for her tireless work and love. my son, for enduring each of my bad times, for being a wonderful son, full of love and talent. And above all, my beautiful assistant. My partner in crime, my friend, my confidant, my unconditional support, in madness, such as this... - he took a break to breathe and sip his cognac. -I want to thank you every word, every smile, every time you have taken my hand, hugged me, supported me, prove to me that I am not alone. You have shown me the light in the dark. You've been awake by my side in insomnia, in every frustrated design, in every strike we've been defeated. You have never let me fall... - He was running out of words.

-Never- reassured Nathalie. She could feel her eyes clouding by tears. Never in a million years she would have guessed his boss felt all of this for her, or maybe it was the alcohol, but for now, it was real. -Oh, Sir, I...

-Or at least that's how it's supposed to go – he drank the rest of his cognac in a single sip. -Let's go home.

Nathalie smiled, of course. She should have known he was acting. She should have known none of it was real, at least not the last part. Or... was it? Anyway, Nathalie knew she'd treasure these words forever.

-Aww, I should have recorded you, Mr. Agreste – teased Nathalie, now hiding her own feelings behind a joke.

-Shut up – he said accommodating a tip under his empty glass. -Let's go.