Jake thought for a second. “It can’t be. You must be imagining it. I know the one you’re talking about at Cassie and Al’s place, but it’s just similar, that’s all. Like the guy said, it’s a popular style.”
DeeDee was adamant. “Jake, I know it sounds crazy, but I have an eidetic memory. I don’t talk about it much because when I was a young child, people thought it was weird. My sister, Roz, used to tease me so much I developed a complex about it. I’ve never mentioned it to you before, because there was no reason to.”
“So, what does having an eidetic memory mean? Is it something like a photographic memory?”
“Exactly,” DeeDee said. “I have total recall when it comes to images. That’s one of the reasons why I’ve always liked art so much. I can recall an image so vividly in my mind that it appears to be real.”
Jake scratched his head. “Oh, dear,” he said, taking the car keys out of his pocket. “I think I can feel a mystery coming on.”
CHAPTER 4
During the week that followed, DeeDee and Jake settled into a relaxed routine of romantic springtime strolls and gastronomic delights. The smell of the Provence countryside became familiar to DeeDee, the breeze carrying with it a fragrance unlike any other she had known, a mix of piney shrubs, spicy herbs, and sweet flowers. The scent followed them as they explored the local region, visiting towns and restaurants that were either recommended to them or they came across by chance, just stopping when they liked the look of a place. They basked in the sunshine and flavors and irresistible aromas of Provence, exploring sprawling outdoor markets, and roaming dusty streets. The taste of the lush wines they sampled along the way only added to the idyllic trip.
One day, while exploring the countryside, they found themselves in the small village of Vienne. It was clear why architects considered the village to be the Holy Grail, due to the Roman influence still evident in temple ruins, a variety of churches with different architectural styles and an incredible statue of St. Peter. As they ambled along the narrow cobblestone streets, floral containers hanging from every window decorated their path with brightly colored geraniums in lavenders, reds, and whites spilling out of them.
“We have to eat here, it’s the place Chrisann told us about,” DeeDee had insisted when they caught sight of Restaurant de la Pyramide, and as she peered through the windows. The village’s floral theme was continued inside, with bouquets of flowers everywhere in the restaurant. They feasted on the market lunch, which was a cheese platter with three kinds of cheese, a buttery brie, a bold Etorki, and a classic blue Roquefort. It came with freshly baked bread, crunchy nuts, and slices of sweet pears and cantaloupe. Even Jake had to admit his appetite was satisfied when they finished eating.
“Thank goodness your French is pretty good,” Jake commented over an espresso after their meal. “Otherwise, I’d have no idea what to choose from the menu in all these amazing places. I’m learning more about you all the time. How did you pick it up?”
“I had a pen pal when I was younger, a girl named Magalie from a seaside town on the western coast of France called Les-Sables-d’Olonne. We wrote to each other for years,” DeeDee said, adding cream to her coffee. “She wrote to me in French, and I wrote to her in English. When we were teenagers, she came to stay with my family one summer. We became such good friends that we spent alternating summers at each other’s homes for the next four years. We lost touch when we both got married. I often wonder what happened to her.”
“That’s nice,” Jake said, reaching for DeeDee’s hand across the table. “I’m sure she thinks of you too.”
In Lyon, a city further north, they dined at Brasseries George Restaurant, rated with one Michelin star. Lyon was less picturesque than the countryside with its heavy city traffic, although DeeDee enjoyed seeing Place Bellecour, the gigantic dusty red pedestrian square right in the middle of the city center. Surrounded by linden and cherry trees along with beautiful Napoleonic buildings, the square’s centerpiece was a statue of the Sun King, Louis XIV, on horseback.
Another day, on a trip to Valence, they ate at Pic le 7, a rare three-star Michelin restaurant. When she tasted the dish she had ordered, a Provence specialty called pan bagnat, DeeDee groaned with delight. “If only I could replicate this for Deelish,” she said to Jake, letting him sample a bite. “It looks so simple, but it’s executed to perfection.”
The pan bagnat was a type of open-faced sandwich with tomatoes, green beans, tuna, and sliced hard-boiled eggs tossed in a light vinaigrette dressing served on a toasted split sourdough roll and covered with lightly fried anchovies. When Jake tasted it, he agreed. “For once, I approve of you taking notes while we’re at a restaurant,” he said, as DeeDee snapped photos with her cell phone and scribbled down ingredients in the notebook she carried everywhere. “If you can recreate this back at home, I’m yours for life.”
Dessert was another specialty of the region, Gateau labally, an orange blossom scented brioche with pink pralines, which sent Jake into even more raptures.
They left the chateau early on the day they drove to Avignon, one of the largest cities in Provence, and known for its art and restaurants.
“I want to make sure we have plenty of time to see everything,” DeeDee explained along the way. “Did you know Avignon was the seat of the papacy in the 14th century?”
Jake looked confused. “I thought the Pope lived in Rome?”
“Usually that’s the case,” DeeDee said, referring to her travel guide book. “But Pope Clement V, a Frenchman, refused to move to Rome when he was elected. For the next sixty-seven years there was a papal community in Avignon, and seven successive popes lived there, too.”
“I can guess what’s coming next,” Jake said, looking at DeeDee out of the corner of his eye. “I bet the town has a lot of churches. Is that the theme for today?”
DeeDee smiled. “Kind of. There are numerous minor churches, but the two best known monuments are the Palais des Papes and the Notre Dame des Doms. It says here that both of them overlook the city and are a must-see for all tourists. How about if we look at those two and then find the place for lunch Chrisann recommended?”
Jake nodded. “Sure, sounds like a plan. The restaurant she told us about in Aix-en-Provence was wonderful. I trust her judgment.”
DeeDee recalled the meal Jake was referring to at Chez Feraud. They had dined on a dinner of pistou soup, a Provencal version of minestrone, grilled lamb, warm figs, and for dessert, caramel ice cream. They washed it down with a fabulous Rhone wine. She hoped she never was asked what meal she’d enjoyed the most over the past few days, but that one was certainly high up on the list.
They found a parking space, and made their way on foot to the breathtaking Palais des Papes. The largest Gothic palace in Europe, it was as big as four normal Gothic cathedrals. Rising above the city and the Rhone river, the walls of the palace were flanked by four mighty towers. With more than twenty rooms open to the public, they took their time meandering through its historic stone hallways and steps. The pope’s private chambers and the priceless frescoes in the interior chapels painted by the Italian artist Matteo Giovannetti were of particular interest to DeeDee.
Nearby, the cathedral Notre Dame des Doms was small in comparison to the Palais des Papes, but still an imposing structure. Flooded with light, the marble stonework had been recently restored. Under the huge hexagonal dome, many sculptures and paintings were on view, alongside two organs, a 12th century marble throne used by the Popes, and a treasure of religious objects, reliquaries and vestments in the chapel devoted to John XXII.
Ginette et Marcel was the place Chrisann had recommended for lunch, where they each devoured an open-faced goat cheese and honey sandwich, called a chevre miel tartine. Once again, DeeDee started to scribble in her notebook.
“Does your memory recall extend to food as well?”
DeeDee knew Jake was teasing her.
“Maybe that’s why you’re such a good cook,” he added. “Because you can
memorize the flavors and create them after you taste them.”
“It does help,” DeeDee admitted. “Even though I don’t talk about it, I guess it’s something I use constantly for Deelish. When I try to recreate something I’ve tasted before, I know immediately if it’s not quite right. The ingredients might all be there, but the proportions may be wrong. I try to tweak it until it works.”
She sipped on her wine, while Jake looked at the road map and they planned the itinerary for their trip to Arles the following day.
In Arles, the city where Van Gogh painted, they explored the Roman ruins before loitering in the open-air market. Lunch was at L’Atelier de Lean Luc Rebanel, a Michelin-rated restaurant featuring local food of the season.
“I think I’ll remember every place we visited on this trip by what we ate there,” DeeDee said as the waiter served the Bistro salad, which consisted of several kinds of greens and bacon mixed with a light dressing, and topped with a poached egg.
They followed it with raspberry tart for dessert, which Jake summed up in one word. “Historic.”
From Arles, they made their way to the small commune of Les Sainte Maries de la Mer on the Mediterranean Sea, a thirty-minute drive away. On the way to the Notre Dame de la Mer church, they were panhandled by a number of gypsies.
“There’s a story about that,” DeeDee said as they walked past them. “The gypsies’ patron saint, Sarah, the Black Madonna, has a crypt in the nave of the church. I was reading about it in the car on the way from Arles.”
“Go on,” Jake said, clasping DeeDee’s hand. “Tell me the story of the Black Madonna. I’m sure you’re going to, anyway.”
DeeDee grinned. “Yep. According to legend, she was the black assistant who accompanied Mary Magdalene, Mary Salome, and Mary Jacobs to France when they fled the Holy Land after the crucifixion. Supposedly they were in a small boat, and she helped them land safely. It’s a legend, and no one knows if the story of the Black Madonna is true. Next month this town is supposed to be filled with Roma gypsies. They arrive to honor Saint Sarah in May. They come about a week before the scheduled ceremony so they have time to socialize, arrange marriages, and celebrate baptisms.”
After visiting the church, they walked along the seafront, stopping for coffee and ice-cream. DeeDee picked up a refrigerator magnet for her daughter, Tink, which had become a tradition every time she went on a trip. Despite the fact Tink was turning twenty-three, DeeDee knew she didn’t dare go home without one.
“Maybe we could come back again to Provence,” Jake said, reading her mind. “It would make a nice honeymoon destination.”
DeeDee gripped his hand tighter. “It would,” she said, smiling and raising her lips to meet his. “Let’s sleep on that, but first, let’s decide what we’re going to do tomorrow, which is our last day here in Provence. Maybe lunch at Henri’s before we take off for the airport?”
Jake met DeeDee’s eyes, and his gaze flooded hers with love. “That would be perfect.”
Soon they arrived back at their car and climbed in. The exhaust pipe rattled when Jake drove off, and DeeDee rolled her window down by winding the metal handle. “I’m going to miss this old heap of junk,” she said, settling back in the seat, which no longer gave her a crick in her neck. Now, it seemed like it was almost made for her.
CHAPTER 5
When they touched down at SeaTac Airport the following evening, DeeDee was exhausted. The time difference between Marseille and Seattle meant that although it was a fifteen-hour trip, her watch was saying she’d left France in the afternoon and arrived back in the United States only a few hours later.
Despite them not receiving an upgrade on their homeward trip, Jake had once against demonstrated his ability to fall asleep anywhere. He took a sleeping pill and reclining in his Premium Economy aisle seat, fell asleep almost instantly. While he was sleeping, DeeDee had spent a long time updating her recipe notebook with the different dishes they’d eaten in Provence, occasionally nudging Jake from time to time when his snores reached embarrassing decibel levels.
The picked up their car at the valet stand and the familiar ferry ride to Bainbridge Island, followed by the short drive to DeeDee’s house, were comforting. DeeDee was glad Jake had opted for the valet service, although she was sure it had been expensive.
“I had an amazing week in Provence,” DeeDee said, stifling a yawn, “and although I didn’t want to leave, I really am looking forward to sleeping in my own cozy bed tonight, even if it’s not in a fancy chateau. And I can’t wait to see Balto. I wonder if he missed us.”
“Unlikely,” Jake said, as they pulled into DeeDee’s driveway. “After all, you FaceTimed him almost every day. Don’t think I didn’t know what you were up to on those sneaky calls before dinner while I was in the bathroom.”
DeeDee opened her mouth to protest, but changed her mind and decided to come clean. “I admit I may have checked in with Cassie to speak with Balto a couple of times,” she said with a smile. “I called my sister Roz as well, and my daughter, Tink. Balto’s part of the family just as much as they are. I could hardly leave him out, could I?”
As they climbed out of the car, Jake cocked his ear. Balto’s barks could be heard from the yard at the back of the house.
“That was thoughtful of Cassie and Al to bring Balto home when we called them from the airport,” Jake said. “I like having them live nearby. You go see your beloved pet, and I’ll take our bags in the house.”
DeeDee walked across to where Jake was standing, looking at her with a grin. Away from the daily distractions of work, the trip had served to bond them with an extraordinary closeness that had surprised her, even though things were already going well between them.
She placed her arms around his neck, pulling him close. “Thank you, Jake, for the most wonderful week in Provence.” Her lips hovered close to his. “You’re my beloved, you do know that, don’t you?” She kissed him lightly. “But I don’t want Balto to feel neglected. See you in a few minutes.”
She started to break away from their embrace, but Jake held her tightly to him. Staring into her eyes, he brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “Wait. I have a question for you. I know we talked before about this…thing, and it was something neither of us was sure if we wanted to do again.”
DeeDee held her breath, and a strange sense of calm washed over her. A few months earlier she would have rushed away from a conversation like this in a blind panic. “Go on,” she whispered, holding Jake’s gaze.
Jake reached up and removed her arms from around his neck, and fell down onto one knee. His eyes were shining, and DeeDee choked back a tear.
“DeeDee Wilson,” Jake said. “You are the woman of my dreams. My heart, my soul, my everything. I can’t imagine being without you. I want to grow old with you. And Balto, of course. Will you marry me?”
DeeDee’s stomach flipped, and she gulped.
“You don’t have to give me an answer now,” Jake went on. “Think it over for as long as you want. And if you’d rather not get married, that’s fine with me too. I just want you to know there is nothing that would make me happier than to call you my wife.”
DeeDee held her arm out to Jake, and pulled him up.
“Of course, it’s yes, you idiot,” she said, and he started to smother her forehead, cheeks, and then her lips with tiny kisses. Balto barked in the distance. “You already make me feel like the happiest woman alive. I’d be honored to marry you, Jake Rogers. Yes, yes, yes!”
“I love you more than words can say,” Jake whispered, giving her one last kiss. “We’ve got plenty of time to work out the details. Now go see Balto, while I get this stuff inside.”
DeeDee felt like she was floating on air as she went around the side of the house to the back where Balto was running around in circles in the fenced area of the yard.
It was typical of Jake, she thought, to propose to her in the driveway, when he had his choice of any of the fancy restaurants they’d dined in the past week.
He wore his heart on his sleeve, saying what he thought whenever it came into his head, and wherever that happened to be.
And for DeeDee, his driveway proposal was the most romantic moment she’d ever experienced.
“C’mere, my best boy,” she said, opening the gate. Balto bounded over, and she rubbed his black and white fur, crouching down so his face was level with hers. His one blue eye and one brown eye stared back at her. “Don’t tell Jake I said that,” she whispered as Jake opened the kitchen door, and Balto followed her out of the yard and into the house.
“Hey, fella,” Jake said when they entered. Balto went over to Jake and allowed himself to be petted, before settling back at DeeDee’s feet. So, it’s like that, is it?” Jake said, with a chuckle. “I can see I’m going to have to fight for Balto’s affections again after his vacation with Al, but I think you’ve still got the number one place in his heart, DeeDee.”
DeeDee shrugged at Jake, and smiled down at Balto. “Flattery will get you everywhere. I think Balto will be hungry soon, and he’s probably not the only one. Am I right?”
Jake laughed. “You might be. But there’s no way my wife-to-be is cooking after the long day we’ve had. I’ll take Balto down to the beach, and see if I can wheedle my way back into his good graces. You take it easy and when I get back, I’ll take care of Balto’s food and water, and we can order takeout.”
“You know what?” DeeDee said, wandering into the hallway where the light on the answering machine indicated she had several messages. “That sounds wonderful. After a week of Michelin-starred meals, I have a craving for pizza.”
“You got it,” Jake said, stopping for a lingering kiss as he picked up Balto’s leash from the hallway table. He was interrupted by a woof from Balto, who had brushed past them and was waiting impatiently at the front door, wagging his tail. “Yes, Balto, I’m coming,” Jake muttered, heading to the door while DeeDee pressed the flashing button on the answering machine.
Murder at the Gallery: A Northwest Cozy Mystery (Northwest Cozy Mystery Series Book 6) Page 4
