A French Girl In New York Read online

  “And I suppose ze whole family should move to ze New York zen, Mr. Batwing?” asked Mr. Ruchet with a smirk.

  “The name is Baldwin,” corrected James Baldwin. “But, no, I don’t suppose the whole family should move to New York. If Maude were to come unaccompanied, she would stay with my family and me. I have two daughters, and one is of Maude’s age. I have welcomed young musicians in my home many times while they were producing their album, I could do it for Maude as well. My wife and I would care for her as if she were our own. I guarantee that.”

  Mr. Ruchet, who had never cared for Maude as if she was his own, felt a keener aversion for Mr. Baldwin.

  “Maude will stay in Carvin where she belongs, Mr. Baldking,” said Mr. Ruchet. “And zat is final.”

  “And I suppose I don’t get to say a word on the matter?” asked Maude suddenly appearing at the entrance of the living room. Maude, cleaning up the house entrance, had heard every single word that had been said in her absence, not wanting to interrupt what James Baldwin had to say. She refused to remain silent a minute longer.

  “I don’t know what you are up to, Maude,” said Mr. Ruchet warningly. “You are in big trouble. To think we let you go to Paris. And this is how you thank us for our generosity?”

  “You never should have let her go,” Mrs. Ruchet declared. “That lying, manipulating, undeserving orphan!”

  Mr. Baldwin looked at Maude, his heart clenching at their hard words.

  Maude stood motionless and calmly said, “I would at least like you to consider this. We can look at the contract and ask Mr. Baldwin some questions, but we cannot dismiss this news so rapidly.” I won’t let it, Maude’s eyes seemed to say. Meeting Maude’s determined glare, Mr. Ruchet remained silent.

  “Maude is right,” Mr. Baldwin put in. “This isn’t a decision one can make in one night. I will be in Carvin for a couple of days. I will stay at the Belle Etoile Inn. Feel free to ask me any questions. I will come back in three days, and you can give me an answer then. Good evening,” he said curtly.

  Mr. Baldwin gathered his things and started towards the exit. Maude led him to the door.

  Before he left, she said, “Thank you, Mr. Baldwin.”

  “I haven’t done anything yet,” he replied sadly. I’ve probably made matters worse, he thought to himself.

  “Thank you for coming,” she said, half-grinning.

  “And thank you for the cake,” he answered, amused. “My shoes seem to have found it delicious.”

  The next day, James Baldwin was sitting inside the Paul Café on the Grand Place, drinking a hot chocolate with a raspberry macaroon. He’d just got off the phone with his wife Victoria who had tried to cheer him up, telling him that he would most certainly find a way to make the Ruchets change their minds. However, James Baldwin felt, for the first time in his entire career, very doubtful. He felt it would be difficult to get through to this very narrow-minded couple. They hadn’t even listened to what he had to say, his plans for their foster child’s career, or the ethics of his record label. They had just staunchly refused. He didn’t know much about their relationship to the child but he gathered from what he had observed that they weren’t very close. During his career, James Baldwin had dealt with a lot of different parents. The loving, worried ones, those who wanted the best for their children, and the ruthless, ambitious ones for whom their children were to be their sole means of revenue. However, all these different parents had one thing in common: they recognized their children’s talents. Whatever their motivation was, they were all interested in developing their offspring’s potential. Not so with the Ruchets.

  Mr. Baldwin was just about to ask for the bill, when he saw Maude walking towards the café. She entered and headed for his table.

  “Hi!” she greeted. “Do you mind if I sit?”

  “No, not all. Take a seat. I was just thinking about the whole situation. Have you given it thought?”

  Maude hadn’t stopped thinking about it. She hadn’t slept a wink the night before, rummaging in her mind, thinking of how to change the Ruchets’ minds, from going on strike to pleading.

  “I’ve given it some thought,” she started cautiously. “And I have like about a million questions,” she continued trying hard to hide her extreme enthusiasm but not quite succeeding.

  “I’ve got one for you,” said Mr. Baldwin very seriously. “Do you love music?”

  “I live for it,” Maude answered, nodding her head with vigor.

  “Good. Because that is what Soulville Records is all about. We may be a big record label, but we want our musicians to be completely invested in the creating process. We don’t produce singers like Lindsey Linton for example, who just sing what is given to them.”

  “I understand what you’re saying. I feel scared and excited at the same time. I’m not sure who Lindsey Linton is, but I think I see what you mean when you speak of pop stars.”

  “Hum, you don’t know Lindsey Linton? Maybe she is less famous in Carvin, but she’s a world famous pop star about your age. She signed with Glitter Records. They hatch pop stars like eggs year after year. One of their only lasting pop stars was Matt, but he’s the one who left them after the release of his third album, Moving On, and came to us.”

  “I’m sorry, but I have no idea who Matt is, and I have a feeling I should, right? The Ruchets never listen to the radio because all the singers they like are either actually dead or their careers are. How would this work? How long would I have to stay in New York? I’ve never left Carvin for more than a day!”

  “You would have six months, creating your songs, working on the music with professionals and recording, and then, maybe touring after the release. Classical meeting pop music. It will be outstanding! But it is very important that you understand the commitment especially as you would be far away from your country, your family, and friends.”

  Maude remained silent, but she felt like there wasn’t much she would miss from her life in Carvin.

  “I must warn you however, my background is classical music. I know everything from Mozart to Debussy. I know also sing a few “modern” French composers like Edith Piaf, but that’s about it. ”

  “That is a lot already, and it’s funny that you shouldn’t see it that way. I’ll take care of your musical education. And you will train your voice with the best vocal coach in New York. I’m sure you’ve heard about her. She goes by the name Ms. Tragent.”

  “Cordelia Tragent!” Maude cried in disbelief. “The famous soprano, Cordelia Tragent? Her voice is sensational! I cry every time I listen to her 1999 performance of La Traviata at the Metropolitan Opera. She’s amazing! To think of having her as a teacher,” Maude sighed dreamily.

  James Baldwin smiled. Maude’s enthusiasm was catching.

  “Cordelia Tragent has a precise method. She uses classical music as a way to strengthen the voices of students wanting to become pop artists. Her method is a wild success,” he paused. “Tell me one thing. Why didn’t you tell the Ruchets that you could play the piano? They looked at me as if I was telling them we’d found aliens on Mars when I told them that you were talented. I’ve never seen anything like it. Most parents are proud of their offspring and see their progeny as prodigy. I usually have to tone them down, not the other way around.”

  “The Ruchets aren’t my parents, so I guess that explains it. And I have no idea who my real parents were, but maybe they gave me their knack for singing,” said Maude, trying hard to look nonchalant but not quite succeeding.

  “The Ruchets may not be your real parents, but they most certainly are your legal guardians, and there is no way around their consent. Besides, Soulville Records wouldn’t do anything without their consent. You, Maude Laurent, are the only person who knows them well enough to figure out what they want in order to ensure their consent. I can’t do anything. Only you can.”

  While he spoke, Maude nodded gravely.

  “You’re right, Mr. Baldwin. I am the only one who knows them. I will find a way
to get their consent. Trust me, I will.” she said.

  Mr. Baldwin sincerely hoped she was right.

  Maude faced the Ruchets in Mr. Ruchet’s study.

  She stood while they sat, lips tight, faces set, arms crossed.

  Mrs. Ruchet broke the silence.

  “You’re not leaving for New York,” she said.

  “Why?” asked Maude.

  Mrs. Ruchet seemed a bit taken aback by the question. Maude had never openly questioned her authority.

  “It certainly isn’t because you love me. I’ve lived with you my whole life and not once have you treated me like I belong,” Maude continued firmly. “I don’t belong. You’ve made it very clear that I’m just a poor orphan you took in unwillingly. You’ve always refused to tell me who my parents were—”

  “Your parents are dead! Dead! Do you hear me?” shrieked Mrs. Ruchet.

  “That’s what you’ve always told me! How do I know if that’s the truth when you refuse to let me know even their names?”

  “You ungrateful brat! We have put a roof over your head for sixteen years, fed you, washed you—”

  “And I have cooked and cleaned for you without complaining because I had nowhere else to go. Now I do. And that is what bothers you. You don’t want me to succeed—you want me, the cheapest housekeeper/babysitter in all of France to continue to work for you. Even if you keep me now, I’ll leave when I’m eighteen.”

  “Will Mr. Baldwin still be there when you are eighteen? Do you expect him to wait two years?” asked Mr. Ruchet, slyly.

  Maude stood quietly. She was right to think that the Ruchets didn’t want her to succeed. Their twisted feelings of hate and disdain pushed them to bar her way to success. They wanted more than anything for Maude to stay, as long as possible, poor, penniless, and helplessly at their mercy.

  “No, I don’t expect him to wait for me.” Maude breathed in deeply.

  There was only one thing left for her to do, only one huge sacrifice to make.

  “That is why I have an offer to make. And I know you won’t say no.”

  Chapter 5

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived safely at JFK International Airport. We hope you enjoyed your flight. The whole crew wishes you a pleasant stay in New York City.”

  Maude looked out the porthole window of the Boeing excitedly. She had felt quite calm during the entire trip, although she had come close to snapping at the man sitting next to her. With every jolt the plane gave, the middle-aged man would jump and shriek in a high-pitched voice and did so during the entire eight hours from Paris to New York. It had all been worth it, she thought happily. Besides, if she had lived through sixteen years of Mrs. Ruchet’s yelling, she certainly could handle eight hours of a poor man’s aerophobia. Barely anyway.

  As she got off the plane, Maude wondered what she would say to Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin. She had rehearsed a couple of greeting phrases, but felt none would do the trick.

  “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Baldwin,” she muttered under her breath. “No, no, that won’t do. It sounds too polite. Not that I want to appear impolite.” She shook her head. “Maybe something like ‘How do you do?’ That’s what our English teacher taught us in eighth grade, but it sounds kind of stuck-up, Queen of England-like. I’m in New York, not Buckingham Palace.”

  Maude stopped in her tracks.

  A few feet from her, a small boy of about ten or eleven with abundant dark curls and an eager grin waved a sign with her name crookedly sprawled over it “MAUD.” Behind the boy were Mr. Baldwin and his wife, Victoria, a tall, ebony-skinned woman wearing her hair in an Afro tied in an elegant red scarf, with a kind face and a heartwarming smile. A closer observer might have noticed a hint of sadness in her eyes, that even perhaps she never knew was there, a light veil that only death can weave in the hearts of the best of souls. But Maude wasn’t closely observing her and quickly turned her eyes towards the person standing next to her.

  Next to her stood her eldest daughter who visibly was trying to calm her excited little brother. Her light brown eyes were calm and appeasing, and her hand gentle. Her long hair was wrapped in a lazy bun making her beauty look effortless.

  Next to the calm young woman, her sister, energetically craning her neck looking in the crowd for Maude, seemed very different. She wore her hair in a short stylish haircut, which made her look like a glamorous 1920s actress. She had the assured look of a girl who feels good about herself without having to crush others. Although she was very stylishly dressed in a beautiful brown coat and high-heeled boots, Maude felt she was the sort of person who could look breathtaking in simple worn-out jeans and a t-shirt.

  The whole family had come, Maude suddenly realized, a wave of shyness overcoming her.

  They, on the other hand weren’t shy at all.

  Mr. Baldwin started walking towards her and before she knew it, the whole family surrounded Maude, all talking at once, asking how her flight had been, what food she’d eaten, which movies she’d seen, not even giving her time to answer.

  “Maude! Maude! I’m Ben. You are Maude aren’t you?” asked the boy waving the sign under her nose to make sure she didn’t miss it.

  “Er, yes, that’s me. I think,” she answered looking at the sign. “You forgot the E at the end.” Great, she thought sarcastically, that’s a nice way to greet. I should’ve stuck with ‘How do you do.’

  “How do you do?” she blurted out suddenly.

  The whole family paused, then burst out laughing.

  “Oh, Dad, you were right!” the tall stylish girl exclaimed, laughing genuinely. “Her accent is so sweet. All the boys will go wild over you at school, Maude.”

  “You mean to tell me, that all the boys at school aren’t mad about you, Jazmine?” her sister asked in a mocking tone.

  “Please, Cynthia,” her mother implored. “Don’t encourage your sister’s vanity or else Maude won’t be able to stand her for six whole months.”

  “Neither will we,” the boy whispered loudly to Maude.

  The family burst out laughing again, including Jazmine, who slapped her brother’s head playfully.

  “Seriously though, we should probably get Maude’s luggage, boxes, and things,” Mrs. Baldwin said practically.

  “It won’t take long, because I only have one suitcase, and it isn’t heavy,” Maude declared.

  “What?” cried Jazmine in disbelief. “You mean to tell me that you have left your country, France, the country of fashion, for six entire months and you’ve only taken one suitcase?”

  “Come on, Jaz. Not everyone takes five entire suitcases for a two-week trip to the Hamptons, you know,” Cynthia teased, rolling her eyes.

  “Neither do I,” said Jazmine smiling sheepishly. “Those were five suitcases for a ten-day trip, dear Cynthia. And let me remind you that two of those suitcases were yours.”

  “Yes, but they were filled with the objects necessary to the harmony and peace of my being,” replied Cynthia.

  “Yeah, yeah. Yin and Yang, Yoga and everything. We know the drill. My twenty different outfits were also essential to the harmony of my being, you know.”

  “What can I say? I travel light,” Maude explained shrugging her shoulders. Besides, she couldn’t possibly tell them that her suitcase was mostly filled with piano scores. She didn’t own much in Carvin, and she certainly didn’t own five suitcases worth of clothes.

  “Ah, finally, a girl I can relate to,” Mr. Baldwin said, sighing in relief.

  “Don’t feel too relieved, James,” his wife warned. “We’ll be taking her shopping this weekend.”

  Her husband and son groaned a groan that seemed to come from deep within.

  “But first,” she added, “Welcome hug.”

  And, as if on cue, the whole family wrapped their arms around Maude and squeezed her so tight she couldn’t possibly be expected to breathe.

  Maude wasn’t used to having so many people pay attention to her, it almost made her feel a little uneasy.

 
; During the trip towards Manhattan, in the taxi, the Baldwin family talked a mile a minute, wanting to know everything about her. Mr. Baldwin hadn’t said much about Maude, not wanting his children to know about the first impression he’d had about the Ruchets. All they knew was that she was an orphan with an incredible talent in music.

  And as the whole Baldwin family was infatuated with music, they wanted to know all about the girl their father had discovered in a Parisian café.

  “Isn’t it romantic?” Jazmine sighed. “Being discovered randomly by a producer in Paris. Paris! I love that city with all my heart, but I couldn’t live there. I love New York too much. You’ll see, Maude, you’ll have so much fun here you won’t ever want to live anywhere else in the world.”

  “Dad said you played Edith Piaf at Le Cavalier Bleu. I love Edith Piaf,” said Cynthia her eyes sparkling. She’s one of my favorite French singers.”

  “You know French music?” Maude asked, surprised.

  “Of course! Mom and Dad have always encouraged us to listen to all sorts of music from all over the world.”

  “My foster parents, the Ruchets always said that Americans never cared about anyone but themselves, especially music-wise,” Maude said.

  I guess that is one more thing they were wrong about, Maude thought.

  “Dad said you knew all the classical composers?” asked Jazmine, squeezing her arm excitedly.

  Maude nodded.

  “You’ll have to duet with Cynthia. She’s a great violinist.” Jazmine leaned closer to Maude and whispered, “She’s started her third year at Julliard. And she’s only eighteen. She’s skipped like a million grades.”

  “I heard you, Jaz,” Cynthia said.

  “Oh, come on, Cynth. I don’t see why you don’t like us mentioning that about you. It’s something to be proud of.”

  “I’m not ashamed. It’s just, you are so proud when you mention it—”

  “I’m so sorry for being proud of my big sister. You know what, Maude, forget what I just said. Cynthia is a terrible violinist. When she plays, she makes dogs bark in the entire neighborhood and—”