Winning the Lottery - 13. Chapter 13 Helping James

Two days after the party, life had settled down nicely. James, who had come over for the party, and I finally had a few quiet moments to have a good talk.

I’d been so busy in the last few years that I really hadn’t paid much attention to him. I knew that he had become a serious bike racer, and had placed well in several of his races. I knew, as well, that he’d been taking night school courses at the University of Toronto working toward his masters degree in French.

And I’d heard of, but hadn’t given much thought to, a trip to France he’d taken the year before to compete in a bike race. When the topic came up, James completely lit up. “I loved France, and especially the Côte d’Azur where the race took place. Paris is an amazing city, but it’s just that, a big city, full of tourists all trying to see the same famous sights. And the sights are pretty awesome, but the cities along the southeast coast like Nice and Cannes, and the tiny country of Monaco just seem to sparkle. The sun is so pure. I can see why the impressionist painters were drawn to the area.”

I listened intently to what he was saying. Not so much the content of his words, but the real passion I heard in his voice.

“Do you think that could be your spiritual home, James?” I asked.

“In more ways than you know,” he replied wistfully.

“James, is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Uh...yeah...I met a girl, well woman, there....”

“Ah, we get to the heart of the matter. Tell me about her. I want to hear everything. Well almost everything.”

“I will, but before I do, I want to ask you if you really meant what you said about helping me. You know, when I finally knew what house I wanted to build.”

“James, if you’ve found your ‘house’ then I promise, I’ll help you any way I can. I’m sure Derrick will be behind me one hundred percent on that too.”

“Well, as I said, I fell in love with the south of France. It’s the first place besides Montreal that I could see myself really settling into. But it’s like a million times better than Montreal, and...it doesn’t have harsh winters. I thought about asking for your help to go live there, but I wasn’t sure you would be happy about funding me if just wanted to go live there...like with no real goals.”

“But now you have uh...motivation?”

“Well, I met Monique. That’s her, Monique Stracht. She was cashiering in a small cafe in the old section of Nice, and the moment I saw her I fell hard. She’s blond, which is not that common in France, but it turns out her father was German. Anyway, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. When it was my turn to order I couldn’t speak. My mouth went dry and my voice wouldn’t work. I stood there looking and feeling like a complete idiot. Then she did the cutest thing: she cocked her head sideways and gave me a mocking smile. She said, “Perhaps Monsieur would like a cup of coffee?”

I said the first thing that popped into my head. I said, “I’d like to take you out.”

She said, “Maybe a coffee first, yes?”

I sat in the cafe for two hours waiting for her shift to end. I drank three cups of coffee and ate two croissants. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, and she kept looking at me and smiling her little Mona Lisa smile.”

God, my once crude brother was turning into a poet.

“I took her out to dinner, which in the south of France, at an outdoor cafe, is a pretty romantic setting. Something between us just sparked, and before we knew it we were back in my hotel having the best sex I’d ever had in my life.”

“Love at first sex? I joked.

“Something like that....”

“Okay, I can relate to that, but tell me more about Monique. You mentioned her father was German?”

“Yes. Well, I guess his father, Monique’s grandfather, was rich or something, and he bought a house on the hill just behind the little town of Villefranch-sur-Mer, on the coast. It’s right next to Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat. You’ve heard of that? No? Well, you’ve heard of the Microsoft guy, Paul Allen? He has a house there. It’s become a pretty ritzy area. Anyway, Monique’s grandfather bought this house in the 30’s when property was a lot cheaper than it is now. Then Monique’s dad inherited it. After his first wife died, he retired and moved down there permanently. They hadn’t had kids, and there was really nothing tying him to Germany. Anyway, he hired Monique’s mom as a housekeeper. In spite of a 35 year difference they fell in love and got married. Monique came along nine months later.

“Monique’s dad died when she was fifteen, and her mom inherited the house. The house was worth a lot, but the old guy had pretty much gone through his money and didn’t leave much for them to live on. For the last fifteen years Monique and her mom have been scraping by, taking odd jobs, trying desperately to hang onto the house. Of course they could sell it for millions in today’s market, but the French don’t think like that. A house is very much an emotional attachment for them—like part of the family. And I saw the house, Gabe. It’s really something. The view is phenomenal, looking out over the bay. Unfortunately it hasn’t been maintained well for the last few years, and now it needs a lot of repair and updating....”

I was beginning to get the picture, but James had more to tell me.

“Monique is taking part-time college classes and has almost finished her teaching degree. She wants to teach little kids—like five and six year olds. I know she’d be really good at it.”

James became a bit pensive. He squirmed in his chair. I knew the ‘ask’ was coming, but I didn’t say anything, although I tried to give him my best ‘encouraging’ look.

“Well...uh...here’s where I could use some help. See, I’ve just got one more course to take at the U of T to get my masters. And...um...there’s a really good university in Nice. Not exactly the Sorbonne, but good. I’ve been in touch with them, and there’s a chance I could get into their PhD program. In French literature. If possible, I’d eventually like to use my language skills to teach at the high school or university level. Either English or French courses. Grammar, writing, literature, stuff like that.”

“So when you say you’ve found your ‘house’ you literally mean ‘house.’ You’d like to help the Strachts fix up their house?”

“Well, eventually.... But first I’d like to move to Nice and go to school. Monique and I have discussed getting married. We definitely want to, but at the same time we want to wait a bit until we’re more settled...maybe have jobs.... Monique’s mom is fairly old fashioned, so I couldn’t just move in with them. I’d have to rent a place while I was going to school...until we get married.

“I haven’t told them about your ‘situation,’ Gabe. They know I have a brother who’s a doctor doing his residency, and that you live in Hawaii, but otherwise they know nothing about your...uh...circumstances. So money hasn’t entered the discussion. They think I’m a poor schmuck who’s fallen in love. In fact, I think Monique’s mom is trying to discourage our relationship. She’s hinting that Monique should try to find a well-off husband. Monique’s standing her ground. She told her mom that she intends to marry me, and that’s that.”

“How can I help, James? In the past few years I really haven’t done anything for you....”

“That’s not true, Gabe! You gave me that money, got me straightened out mentally, flew me down to Hawaii several times, bought me two very expensive bikes, and tons of clothes. Christ, two years ago you bought me a Jeep Renegade for Christmas! Don’t say you haven’t done anything for me.”

I waved off his protest. “Well, now you’ve got a life goal. So what do you need? Let’s make a list.”

“Well, I need to apply to the university in Nice. I’ll do that. Then I need a visa to live in France. Maybe not a student visa, but an immigrant visa, you know? Then, ah....”

I continued, “You need money to live on. You need a place to live. You need a car—maybe one of those little Citroën Deux Chevaux....”

“God, do they even make them anymore?” he laughed.

“And you eventually want to help Monique and her mom repair the house....”

“Yes, that’s about it. You’re not...uh...mad at me for asking are you?”

“No! Just the opposite. I’m thrilled have a dream and you’re following it. Let me know if you need help with the university application. Sometimes a well-timed donation can make a difference.... And the Deacons can definitely help with the immigration visa. God only knows, Uncle Darius is probably the BFF of the president of France or something. Meanwhile, let me talk to Derrick about the best way to go about setting up a trust fund for you. Their lawyers know how to set things up to avoid taxes and stuff like that.”

“Jesus, Gabe, that’s just awesome. Awesome! Can I tell Monique about university and the visa? She’ll be happy to know that I can really move there.”

“Sure, just keep the money details vague. It’s not a good idea to let everyone know that we’ve greased the skids, so to speak.”

“Totally. Mums the word, Gabe.”

With that he headed into the garden to phone Monique. It was morning in Hawaii, but already late evening in France.

When he came back he was beaming. “She actually screamed when I told her! And that was only about the university and the visa. When she and her mom hear about fixing up the house they’re going to be insanely happy! Thank you, Gabe. Thank you so much!”

“Before you know it, you’ll be wearing a beret and sipping Absinth in a sidewalk cafe in Nice,” I joked.

“Maybe coffee, Gabe, Absinth is pretty wicked stuff. And I’ll be eating French pastries. Honestly, Gabe, nobody makes pastries like the French. Did you know that everybody buys their bread fresh every day? They have these long thin loaves called baguettes, and they’re a real staple over there.”

“That sounds pretty good. Maybe once you’re settled in over there Derrick and I could come for a visit, and you could show us around?”

“Yes! Will you come? Really? That would be so cool!”

Later, I told Derrick about my conversation with James, and sensing my enthusiasm, he agreed wholeheartedly that it was time to help James.

I phoned Uncle Darius, and he turned me over to one of his assistants. That lady called another assistant in the Deacon’s Paris office. Then the French assistant liaised with James, and within three months, just as James finished his final masters degree course at the U of T, he had his acceptance letter from the university in Nice and a bona-fide European immigration visa in hand.

Meanwhile, the Deacon lawyers created a trust fund for James. We seeded it with a shitload of money. James and Monique would have enough to live comfortably for the rest of their lives, as would their children.

With all that in place, James and Monique decided to get married as soon as James moved to Nice. After all, Monique was 30 and James was 35, so there was no real reason to wait. Once Madame Stracht learned that James wasn’t a pauper she gave her enthusiastic blessing to the union.

As a wedding present, Derrick, Cass and I paid for the house renovations and redecorating. Madame Stracht was beside herself with joy. Now, in that unique French way, she could ‘hold her head up’ in the neighborhood. We also gave her an unlimited charge account at an exclusive boutique in Nice, and a monthly allowance, so she could dress and play the part of a real French ‘grande dame.’

With my residency reaching its end, and Derrick’s work seniority, it was easy to get time off to go to France for the wedding. We arrived in Nice on an Air France flight from New York and were taken to a hotel where we’d reserved a water view suite. The hotel was adjacent to the Nice’s old town which was great fun to explore on foot, with its winding streets, churches and cafes. It wasn’t hard to see why James was so taken with the Côte d’Azure. It was really something.

When I saw the Stracht house I had one of those ‘holy shit!’ reactions. James said it was special, but he didn’t say it was to-die-for special, which it was. Set on the hillside, its large garden was surrounded by a stone wall. From the roadway you entered through gates then a steep driveway sloped downward to a small paved courtyard. Below the house, the garden was gorgeous, Madame Stracht had done what she could to keep it up, but I could see that it had amazing potential once it was really cleaned up. There was even a small swimming pool that, unfortunately, had been left unattended for years. The house itself was a generous size running parallel to the slope of the hill. The whole front of the house was a colonnaded porch overlooking the town below and out onto the deep blue Mediterranean. The interior of the house was designed to stay cool in the heat of the summer. The floors were unglazed Italian tiles and the kitchen and bathrooms were finished in hand painted ceramic tiles. Even before the planned improvements it was breathtaking. James translated what Madame Stracht was telling us about the planned updates. Not a lot would be changed, but the plumbing and electrical wires would be replaced and the roof repaired. As much as possible the original fittings, furniture and finishing would be left in place and repaired or reupholstered as needed. A small, well designed addition would be added for a bathroom for James and Monique’s bedroom. The furnishings were pretty much all antiques and the floors were strewn with Persian carpets. I’d never seen anything so truly elegant yet comfortable.

The wedding was held in a small, ancient church in the village. Afterwards, a catered meal was served under a marquee tent in the garden of the house. Madame Stracht was a classic hostess. Thin, she looked very elegant in a simple Dior dress. When I looked at her I was reminded of the kind of style and beauty that Princess Grace, Audrey Hepburn and Jackie Kennedy had. It was obvious where Monique got her good looks.

James and Monique left for a short honeymoon in Venice, and Derrick, Cass and I spent two more days touring the coast area, including a couple of grand homes (now museums) and visiting two medieval cities. I’d always been curious about the tiny country of Monaco which, although beautiful, was a little too crowded and glitzy for my taste. Hawaii is pretty glitzy in some places, but it’s got more open space and ‘wildness’ about it.

We also took a quick tour of the university James was to attend. I was pleased with everything that I’d seen. It was all pretty remarkable, and I could see why James had fallen in love with the area. But mainly I was happy we’d visited, because now I’d be able to picture in my mind what James was telling me about when we talked.

On the way home we made a quick stopover in Boston to visit the happy couple, Don and Marco. Marco was distracted and jumpy. He had submitted the final draft of his thesis and was waiting to hear the date of his oral presentation/defense. Nobody, least of all Don, was critical of Marco’s somewhat antisocial behavior; Marco had a lot to be worried about. Honestly, I don’t think the boards I had to sit at the end of my residency were nearly as scary. After all, everything, and I mean everything, was riding on the outcome of the thesis and the oral presentation. On a positive note, however, Marco had received positive responses from at least two of the institutions to which he had applied for post-doctoral fellowships. One was Stanford, and the other was the Mauna Kea Observatories in Hawaii. Derrick and I were secretly hoping he’d get the Hawaii gig.

At any rate, Marco’s worries didn’t distract from his affection for Don. In fact, he was being a bit clingy, which Derrick and I thought was adorable. And Don was clearly enjoying his role as Marco’s ‘comfort blanket.’