Free Hidden in Paris by Corine Gantz Page A

They’d be better off on the soccer field without her anyway
    The reality was that the other calls she had received for her ad were no good. And she did not receive that many responses at all. There had been the retired couple from San Francisco who wanted to stay for a year because they had read
A Year in Provence
, and it had messed with their heads. Rental agencies had called who wanted her money, and she had dismissed the lone men sent to work in France for a few months. There had also been a wealthy couple looking for a true French experience that included a fax, cable, high speed internet, and a TV in the room. They’d asked if there was a hot tub. She had snapped that this was Paris, France, not Paris, Vegas. But really, she was horrified at the thought of people coming in and complaining about her place. Her house was low tech, and she wanted it to stay that way. A computer would be nice one day, maybe. The teachers sure were putting pressure on her, not to mention the boys’ obsession with it. But she certainly refused to get cable. TV was bad enough as it was; who needed more of it?
    So when Lola finally called and did not ask her about complicated things such as DSL, HBO, DVD, and VCR, Annie
had
to have her. “I’m not sure what I’m looking for,” Lola had said. She was blowing her nose occasionally and Annie did not know if she was crying or had a cold. “I’m not even sure I should come to France. It would be for a short time, very temporary.” But in the next sentence, Lola said, “I might need a school for my daughter. Are there international schools nearby?” Lola said she loved France but did not really speak the language, calling her French an embarrassment.
    “Well, in that case, don’t even try your French here. You’ll get lynched!” Annie said. When Lola gave a throaty laugh, something genuine and childish, it reassured Annie immensely.
    Lola had also sounded confused and undecided, so when the issue of the bathroom was raised, way too soon in the conversation, Annie was sure it would be a deal breaker. “Do the rooms have their own bathrooms?”
    “Well, it’s not exactly like that. This is an old house, and it kind of lacks... amenities.” Annie had braced herself. ”There are eight bedrooms, but only two bathrooms. As a matter of fact, you might have to share a bathroom with other tenants.”
    “Share?”
    “Well, take turns, of course. Anyway, don’t you think hygiene is way overrated in the U.S.?” she had joked.
    “Well, that’s true,” Lola had responded, like this made perfect sense.
    Annie was on a roll with lame-ass jokes “Worse comes to worst, the kitchen sink is huge.”
    Lola had laughed again. “Bathing is in the kitchen? Oh, I feel better now!”
    Only this was not entirely a joke. During the summer months, the boys used the kitchen sink as a pool of sorts. They climbed in and out, into the garden, back to the kitchen, leaving puddles of water and mud everywhere. The same tub was at times the place for earth experiments. Once, she found a tadpole in it. No need to get into that.
    “It is a crazy thing,” Lola said. “You wrote ‘start over,’ and I couldn’t get the ad out of my mind. This is totally intuitive. I’m mostly, like, an intuitive person.”
    Oh great, she thought. A new agey L.A. wackjob. She breathed in, and then spewed out her response: “Don’t over think it, dear. Grab your kids and pack your bags. Don’t take too much. Your clothes will seem irrelevant the instant you see what people wear here. I’ve got toys, towels, métro tickets, and I’m a mean cook. The best bathroom has a wonderfully large tub, and I am the proud owner of a bubble bath collection.” She had said that fast and in a high-pitched tone,
like a damn insurance salesman. She cringed and waited. Lola gave a big sigh. “This sounds so, like, nurturing. And Paris is so beautiful in the winter.” Annie did not think Paris was so damn beautiful in the winter.