Page 146 - And the Mountains Echoed (novel)

feet, some more graying at the temples, his face set with just a light touch of

weariness.
“I am,” she said.
They kissed on the cheek, and when he asked if she would have a coffee with
him, she said yes.
“Your friend looks angry. Homicidally angry.”
Pari glanced behind her, saw Collette standing with Eric, still chanting and

pumping her fist but also, absurdly, glaring at the two of them. Pari swallowed
back laughter—that would have wrought irreparable damage. She shrugged
apologetically and ducked away.
They went to a small café and sat at a table by the window. He ordered them
coffee and a custard mille-feuille each. Pari watched him speak to the waiter in
the tone of genial authority that she recalled well and felt the same flutter in the
gut that she had as a girl when he would come over to pick up Maman. She felt
suddenly self-conscious, of her bitten fingernails, her unpowdered face, her hair
hanging in limp curls—she wished now that she’d dried it after the shower, but
she’d been late, and Collette had been pacing like a zoo animal.

“I hadn’t pegged you as the protesting type,” Julien said, lighting her cigarette
for her.
“I’m not. That was more guilt than conviction.”
“Guilt? Over seal hunting?”
“Over Collette.”

“Ah. Yes. You know I think I may be a little frightened of her.”
“We all are.”
They laughed. He reached across the table and touched her scarf. He dropped
his hand. “It would be trite to say that you’re all grown up, so I won’t. But you
do look ravishing, Pari.”

She pinched the lapel of her raincoat. “What, in this Clouseau outfit?”
Collette had told her it was a stupid habit, this self-deprecating clowning around
with which Pari tried to mask her nervousness around men she was attracted to.
Especially when they complimented her. Not for the first time, and far from the
last, she envied Maman her naturally self-assured disposition.
“Next you’ll say I’m living up to my name,” she said.
“Ah, non. Please. Too obvious. There is an art to complimenting a woman,
you know.”

“No. But I’m certain you do.”
The waiter brought the pastries and coffee. Pari focused on the waiter’s hands