homeless marguerites - Part one

Waiting for the coffee sitting at Julien Lefevre’s little office in the old castle’s building, Bill Hollis gained the time to think about the young guy. He was indeed too young for such a reconstruction job, but Bill had to admit to have nothing to complain about. He knew how to keep his team hard working and yet satisfied and to Julien, himself, nothing seemed to be a greater fun than working. As a French, even his efforts for learning English were remarkable. It did not require high attention to notice how his English had improved; ever since he found out he had to deal with the American Bill instead of his French cousin Francisco.
Although having already traveled a long time with Francisco, Bill never tried to discover his secrets. All that he knew about Francisco’s life before the end of the WWII, was about his mother – Bill’s aunt - , that he was actually a French duke or something of the sort , that to the French, he was a great hero of the WWII, that he was damn rich for he was the last survived de Bergeux child and that being with him meant putting your life in fatal danger all the time.
Bill had learnt that all he had to do was to accomplish all Francisco asked him to do and he always did it well. Like the reconstruction of this de Bergeux castle, 32 km from Paris, were he sat now smelling the brewing French coffee.
Julien never started a long business conversation without coffee. One year was enough time for Bill to get used to it. Actually, he had learned to enjoy the moment sitting there, doing nothing, saying no words before coffee was served on Julien’s desk. He had noticed how his behavior towards Bill had changed ever since he had started socializing with their other cousin Annie. It was already about nine months that Annie was traveling with Bill and Francisco. Bill could not help thinking that their parents, who related the three were all dead, his and Francisco’s mothers and Annie’s father; the Andersons.
Bill believed there was something wrong going on with Julien, no matter how hardworking or nice he seemed to be. If he had had a sister or a daughter, he’d never trust any French guy with her. In fact, he believed there was something wrong with all of them. Sometimes he tried to speak himself to believing that it was just for he had long been accompanying Francisco. The fact that they were best friends would never lead into Bill approving of Francisco’s way with women, even now that he seemed to have his eye’s finally set on only one woman.
Bill took a deeper look at Julien now carefully putting the two cups among the pile of papers on his desk, smiling and sitting on his chair and he thought to himself that even if they were not all like Francisco, since he was their hero it must have meant that they all at least wished to be like him, so he told himself in clear conscious this time, that there WAS always something wrong with French guys.


Already living for one year in Paris, Bill Hollis had learned much more than Julien had expected him to the first days he had to work with him. He liked Bill, for one thing he was easy to work with, he’d just ask thousands of questions and then let go and one could do what they wanted; and for another- which Julien treasured the most- Julien never had to think much about Bill. He was in his thought, whenever he was in front of him or on the phone and such moments were mostly carefully scheduled. The latter made him incredibly at ease with Bill Hollis even considering the fact that he knew only a few words in French. Compared to his two cousins, Bill was a real luxury to Julien, one he could not always afford. Francisco was a mirror, reflecting facts he did not want to have ever known. He was an inobedient, independent, bugging mirror; he reflected what he wanted, regardless of what was in front of him.
But no one Julien had been acquainted with in his life could beat Annie Anderson. She made him think like hell, his brain worked faster than ever, she made him think so often and so much, he even had to think about things which had no connection with her at all. The thoughts had even made him plant some marguerite flowers again and this was the worst of all because not even Annie Anderson could make him think about himself as much as those magnificent flowers reminding him of the little garden they had at home when he was still a child, when his parents were still alive, when…
There it was! Annie had done it again! He was already thinking about what had nothing to do with Annie!
Another thing he appreciated about Bill was the silence he kept before drinking the coffee, so that Julien could use the opportunity to get rid of his poisoning thoughts.