The small French antique armchair sat in a lonely antique store in a *small town in the middle of nowhere. When I saw it, I was instantly transported back to my French Husband's grandmother's home in northern France. A house that was stuffed from floor to ceiling with French antiques. Just thinking back to it makes my mouth water. Four small armchairs were gathered around her massive marble fireplace, not enough for her six grandchildren… French Husband told me he spent many happy moments sitting by the fire, listening to his grandmother, and drinking hot chocolate; his grandmother adored hot chocolate and drank it like an alcoholic drinks booze.
When French Husband's grandmother passed away, he did not inherit one of the desired antique armchairs. From that moment on, I have been on a mission to find one. Imagine, out of all the French antique fairs and shops in France that I have been to, and I have been to thousands in the last twenty two years, I ended up finding one in the middle of nowhere in California.
When I asked the shopkeeper for his best price for the small French armchair, he told me his sad love story. (When it comes to negotiation, one must first listen to tall tales. Being straightforward is highly overrated, not a quality of the shopkeeper or I. Negotiations are often played out on such a stage.)
The antique shop belonged to his wife… his ex-wife who left him after twenty-five years of marriage. I told him I was sorry… He said, "I tell everyone who comes into the shop that my wife left me; that way, they might feel sorry for me and maybe buy something to make me happy." We both laughed and sighed at the same time.
The shopkeeper continued talking about his ex-wife and eventually told me that she had bought the small French armchair at an estate sale and had paid too much for it. He said he would sell it to me for half the price since he had to sell his ex-wife's antiques and give her the money.
Of course, I asked him if he could do a better price. He looked at me in disbelief and said, "I cut the price in half! That is the best I can do! I gave you half-off out of revenge to make my wife a bit mad, a bit jealous…. my ex-wife is going to kill me if I go lower than half. I want to make her mad, but not to the point where she might kill me."
I winked, "Well, if you want to make her jealous, maybe you could just say you gave the armchair to another woman."
With that, we both roared with nervous laughter. He seemed very happy when I walked out of the shop with his ex-wife's armchair under my arm. I wonder if she will be jealous?
Unfortunately, the small French armchair was not miniature enough to fly back to France. International flight regulations allow each passenger two suitcases weighing up to 50 pounds and not to accede 62 inches in size (otherwise, an excess baggage fee is tacked on.) The armchair was more significant than that. Shipping or posting it separately was far too expensive for me to consider.
So I had it cut in half by a dear old friend who is a carpenter by trade; he did an excellent job. The armchair snuggly fit into the 62-inch box that Ulla and Lea (my blogging pals) made for me.
French Husband likes the French antique miniature armchair- that I bought in California- from a shop keeper with an ex-wife who is going to kill him for selling it to another woman… I think French Husband digs his American wife, who gives him unpractical gifts that are cut in half… though I do believe he likes the stories attached to such gifts better.
* The hick town in the middle of nowhere is a gold mine… they often are. I grew up in such a place. The town I live in now is a French hick town. I prefer hick to snob, antiques on their last leg to antiques in perfect condition.
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