Paris Can Wait Page #5

the third crusade from here.

They say there are

bones of Mary Magdalene

under the altar.

See those columns?

Yes.

Each one tells a story.

You can tell me

your sadness, Anne.

It happened a long time ago.

But it's still with you.

Yes. And it always will be.

David.

He had a heart defect,

and he lived only 39 days.

He was always surrounded

by nurses and doctors, but...

He knew me.

He held onto my finger...

And fought so hard

every minute of his life.

I'm so sorry.

I thought I would die.

His father, my first husband...

He couldn't handle it, he left.

One day,

I wandered into a church...

And there was an alcove

with the virgin Mary

holding her infant son.

And suddenly I felt connected...

To all the mothers who have

lost a child down through time.

I wear this to remind me

how fragile life is,

and how painful and exquisite

it is to be alive.

Anne, you're human.

And you've been to the

depths of what that means.

Food is good for the soul.

This place is supposed

to be the best in Vezelay.

Great.

Please.

Jacques, I need to make a phone call.

Okay. Of course.

This is the voicemail box for...

Michael Lockwood.

Please leave a message.

Hey, honey, it's me.

I just miss you...

The mailbox is full and cannot

accept any messages at this...

Man.

Yes, of course.

Uh, listen,

I need an advance. Yeah.

Come on, you know our new picture

will be a big hit in the UK.

No, I need

the money now, damn it!

You'll drink for both of us.

We still have a long drive.

It's a Cuvee Silex,

from Domaine Daguenau 2012.

Of course.

Merci.

It has a crisp mineral note that

expresses, uh, the terroir.

And the vineyard subsoil

is calcareous chalk.

It's giving something

really special for this wine.

Because it's

very deep and, uh...

I am boring you.

No. No, no.

I mean, yes.

It's just a little intimidating,

how much you know about wine.

It's just knowing what you like.

My happiest memories

are around the table.

And I'm here now with you.

Excuse me.

What's wrong?

It's Alex. She's decided to go camping

with friends for her birthday.

It'll be the first birthday in her

life that I won't be with her.

You've taught her

how to be happy on her own.

Now it's your turn.

And you're in burgundy.

Merci.

Look at this.

No, it's good,

but who needs this fuss?

I remember going into the garden

with my mother

and picking tomatoes...

Really ripe, red ones in August.

Bringing them into the kitchen,

still warm from the sun.

She'd put slices on fresh bread,

add good olive oil, sea salt and

fresh ground pepper and say,

"Jacques,

you'll never eat better."

She was right.

The best food in the world

is straight from the garden

with very little done to it.

Authentic, like you.

So, what did your

family eat, Anne?

I grew up in Cleveland.

Nobody's perfect.

No, our idea of fine

dining was fried chicken,

mashed potatoes,

and frozen peas.

I didn't learn about good food

until I went to California.

There is one thing from my

past that I make well, though.

Lemon meringue pie.

Mmm, great.

Sometimes I think Michael

married me for my pie.

He married you for

much more than your pie.

Merci.

This butter from Brittany is

the best we have in France.

Now, there is

a trip we should take.

The coastline, the oysters, the

cider, and Les galettes bretonnes...

Those wide and thin

buckwheat pancakes. Mmm.

I love pancakes.

Excuse me.

Thank you.

- Michael!

- Everything okay?

Yeah, I was just

checking in to see what's...

I think I'm over this

whole producing thing.

Once Alex is out of school,

let's talk about plan b.

Oh.

Honey, there are problems

on the Morocco shoot.

I have to go there asap

with a big fire extinguisher.

Huh. Well, when would

that put you in Paris?

I can hardly hear you.

Where are you?

I'm in a restaurant.

With Jacques?

Well, yeah.

Listen, Anne.

Jacques can be very charming,

and Frenchmen have no scruples

when it comes to married women.

I'll keep that in mind.

Call me as soon as you

get to the apartment.

Love you.

Love you, too.

Hmm.

"Nipples of Venus."

It's their specialty.

Merci.

Mmm. Mmm-hmm.

Oh, my goodness.

You've been

taking a lot of photos.

Let me see what

you've got there.

Oh, they're nothing, really.

Come on. Show me.

You have a beautiful eye

for detail.

They are very evocative.

You think?

Yeah. You don't

show the whole thing.

You make me imagine

the complete picture.

Do you make prints?

No.

Although I've thought of making

some large prints

of a few images.

Hmm.

What does Michael

think of your photos?

I haven't really shown him.

Why not?

I don't think he sees me

as a photographer.

I mean, he asks to see them, but

I think he's just being nice.

Michael is a nice guy.

Why are you not

revealing yourself

to the man you've been with

for 20 years?

See?

How beautiful you are.

It's a wedding.

I like this music.

Yeah?

Oh.

Oh...

Let's pretend we are in that

Renoir painting, Danse a Bougival.

Yeah?

Okay.

Okay.

Your very own sudoku book.

Mmm. Thank you.

Some chewing gum.

It's better for you than smoking.

Yeah.

You seem to really like kids.

Do you ever wish

you'd had your own?

Well, I have

a nephew, Jean-Louis.

Oh.

He's like my son.

He was two when my brother died.

Oh.

I'm sorry.

He thinks it was an accident.

He doesn't know his

father's death was suicide.

I kept it secret.

I never told anyone.

My brother and I had

a company together.

I didn't see it coming.

Oh, that's so painful.

I'm sorry.

How lucky his son is

to have you.

I'm lucky, too.

So, brulee, now, tell me,

what was the happiest

moment in your life?

When Alexandra was born

and the doctor said,

"you have

a healthy baby girl."

For me it was, uh...

Playing tag with

my brother in the garden

while my mother picked

vegetables for dinner.

So tell me, brulee, where

are you staying in Paris?

Our friends have an apartment.

We like to stay there

when they're away.

So this is your

friends' apartment?

Jacques,

I can't begin to tell you

how much this trip

has meant to...

For me, too.

Hmm.

The way our friend taught us

the code, I'll never forget.

"A" "52"-year-old woman

can "b"

with a "38" -year-old guy.

Of course.

Where is your apartment?

It's on what you call

the third floor. Oh.

There's an elevator.

Great.

But it's... well,

you'll see. It's French.

It's really tiny.

Thank you.

So, I promised

I'd return you to Paris

without so much as

holding your hand.

And I did it.

Who did you promise?

Me.

Oh.

Hi, Anne.

Hope you got in okay.

I left some things

in the refrigerator.

Call me if you need anything.

Are you there, Annie?

Annie? Annie?

You're not answering

your cell phone.

Baby, where are you?

I have to leave

early in the morning.

I'm packing.

My socks don't match.

I'm no good without you.

Please call me.

Damn it, where are you?

Honey, remind me to never let

you go with a Frenchman again.

Hey, it's me again.

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