Read Online In Love with a Gentleman by Elisa Ellen - Free Book Online Page B

certified teacher has to share an apartment, although I know an English teacher’s salary is well below what a German teacher earns.
    We ring the doorbell, and Anne opens the door for us.
    “Hello, my dears,” she says warmly. She gives each of us a kiss on the cheek. “Come in and put your things down, then you can meet the others.”
    We bring our shopping bags into the kitchen, which is small and a bit cluttered, but functional.
    “Excellent,” Catherine says, “a gas stove—it’ll be much easier to make the crêpes.”
    Anne leads us into the living room. Our fellow teachers have taken their places on the few seats available.
    “Everyone at least recognizes each other,” Anne says. “But, just in case, I’ll introduce everybody again. Here are our assistant teachers, Lea from Germany and Catherine from France. Lea and Catherine, that’s Gill, who you know already from the teachers’ lounge. Daniel teaches math; then there’s John, Phil, Amy, and Ethan.”
    I look at each face one by one, nodding amiably. Then my heart stops.The athletic heartbreaker. The so-called womanizer.
    He looks quickly in my direction, then turns away to talk to Amy, a blonde who, to the best of my knowledge, is a physical education teacher, too.
    “Are you hungry?” Anne asks.
    Everyone gives an enthusiastic “Yes!” so Catherine and I rush into the kitchen and immediately begin to whip up the crêpe batter. Like a pro, Catherine stirs it up quickly.
    “Hey!” I say. “I see you have some experience with this.”
    Catherine stirs even faster and says, “Yes. My sisters and I operated a booth at Fest Noz in our village. We had to crank out these things in a hurry.” She tells me, somewhat nostalgically, about the Breton folk festival, where villagers hold hands and dance to the nasal sound of the district’s bagpipes.
    Anne peers into the kitchen. “Do you two need help? Is there anything I can do?”
    But we send her back into the living room. A fat gray cat sneaks around our legs. She starts to follow Anne out, but then rests near the kitchen door.
    Catherine places two pans on the stove and melts a little butter in each. Then she drips a small dollop of batter into the hot fat. She skillfully manipulates the pans at lightning speed until the dough is just a white film on the bottom of each pan. It smells delectable.
    Catherine concentrates on the edges of the crêpes. “Almost done.” She takes a pan firmly by the handle, steps back, and says, “Watch out!”
    She jerks the pan upward. The crêpe swirls once on its axis, then lands perfectly, the crispy brown side facing up.
    “Wow,” I say, deeply impressed. “Up till now, I’ve only seen television chefs do that. I never thought I would see that live.”
    In amazement, I watch Catherine toss the next crêpe in the same way. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she says. “Anyone can do it.”
    “I’d never be able to do that,” I say, but I’m suddenly tempted to try.
    “Of course you can,” Catherine says. “Would you like to try?”
    Of course! I wait until after Catherine prepares two more crêpes. Then I take the pan firmly by the handle.
    “Jerk it up quickly,” Catherine explains. “Here, let me show you again.” It looks like magic.
    “Okay,” I say. “Let me try. One, two, three . . .”
    I jerk the pan up, but I miscalculate and use too much force. My crêpe shoots up into the air, briefly sticks to the ceiling, then falls to the ground. How did the cat reappear so suddenly? She’s right where she needs to be. She attacks the crêpe, and it disappears into her stomach. Catherine and I look at the cat, then each other, in amazement. Her eyes are dancing with delight, and we burst out laughing. Oh man ,I think, I never thought that making crêpes would be so much fun .
    “Excellent!” Catherine giggles. “At this rate, everyone will starve, but the cat will roll around on the floor, fat as a tick.”
    Again, we laugh uncontrollably.
    I notice