by Jamie Conner
Megan focused her eyes in front of her. She knew Gerard had been able to tell that she was upset when they'd bumped into each other, but she didn't want to talk about that then any more than she wanted to talk about it now.
"Anyway," he continued without pushing the subject. "It turns out that Mrs. Leroux knew Rachel Durand."
"What?" Megan said with surprise. All thoughts of Brandi disappeared at the mention of the author's name.
"There's a little cottage the Leroux's had built as a playhouse for their children not too far from the main house. Long after the children left home, and Mr. Leroux passed away, Mrs. Leroux rented the cottage to Rachel Durand. Mrs. Leroux said it's the place where Rachel wrote her last two novels."
Megan could hardly believe what she was hearing.
"Mrs. Leroux thought you might like to see the cottage."
Megan stopped in her tracks.
"Gerard are you serious?"
"Absolutely! It's just down the road a bit."
Megan and Gerard walked the next several minutes in silence. Between the beautiful hillside view of the ocean and the anticipation of seeing the place where Rachel Durand created her beautiful words, Megan was speechless.
Suddenly the sound of a loud voice interrupted the quiet.
"Ah! Mama! Stop being so stubborn. They offered those people good money. I don't understand why you won't at least talk to them."
A woman's voice yelled back in French. Megan couldn't understand what was being said, but her tone was unmistakably angry. Megan and Gerard took a few more steps and the arguing parties came into view. There, standing in her front yard was Mrs. Leroux. Her face was red and her hands were on her hips. Megan could almost see fire coming from her ears.
Mrs. Leroux yelled something else in French, turned on her heels and stormed back into the house.
Megan kept her distance while Gerard stepped closer to the man — this seemed like a very personal situation.
"I see you and your mother are at it again," Gerard laughed.
The younger man shook his head and waved a dismissive hand toward the door through which Mrs. Leroux vanished. "She's as stubborn as a mule, Gerard. I don't know how you put up with her. I heard there's a real estate development company offering good money for land just down the road from here. I mentioned it to Mama, but she won't even consider talking to them. It's not like she can live here by herself forever," he said with exasperation. "I know she loves the country, but after the fall she took last year, I'm just concerned about her being all the way out here by herself. I've even mentioned the possibility of her going to live with my sister Abella in Germany."
"Alfred, you know your mother, if she's made up her mind about something, then that's that." He reached over and put his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "But don't worry about her. She's not out here by herself. We all look out for each other in St. Amelia."
Alfred picked up a tote bag that was sitting at his feet and tossed it into the back of his car. "Thanks for being such a good friend, Gerard. I just wish she understood that I'm only trying to do what's best for her."
"We'll be okay, Alfred. I promise you that."
Alfred just shrugged, got into his car and pulled away.
"Petite morveux," Mrs. Leroux mumbled as she walked back outside. She peered down the road at the disappearing car.
Gerard giggled. "Little brat," he whispered to Megan, translating the comment.
Mrs. Leroux walked up to Megan, gave her a big hug and pulled her toward the door of the house. Megan took a deep breath when they got inside. The whole place smelled like fresh bread and some other sweet fragrance Megan couldn't quite identify. Mrs. Leroux motioned for them to sit down at the dining room table and then disappeared into the kitchen. When she returned she was carrying a plate full of hot sliced bread and a small dish of strawberry jam.
"I'm going to weigh a ton when I leave here," Megan whispered to Gerard as she slathered jam onto the second piece of bread Mrs. Leroux dropped on her plate.
"You'd better get used to it," he laughed. "She likes to feed people."
After they'd eaten their fair share of bread and jam, Mrs. Leroux got up from the table and motioned for them to follow her.
They walked out the back door of the house, through Mrs. Leroux's garden and down a long path. At the end of the path, there was a small one-story cottage surrounded by beds of bright flowers.
Mrs. Leroux opened the cottage door and motioned for Megan and Gerard to follow her inside. The cottage had a large open floor plan. There was a small kitchen area, a comfortable looking queen sized bed, a sofa and a large desk that sat in front of a window with a beautiful view of the ocean.
"It's lovely," Megan said. "What a beautiful place. I certainly understand why Rachel Durand enjoyed writing here."
Mrs. Leroux's face beamed. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a bright red ribbon with a key dangling from the end and held it out to Megan.
"Pour toi," she said. "You stay here."
Megan's eyes flew open wide. "What? Are you?" She turned to Gerard. "Is she saying I can stay here and write?" she asked in amazement.
"Sounds like that to me." He smiled and winked at Mrs. Leroux. "She told me after the wedding that she was so moved by your words that she knew Rachel would want you to stay here. It's yours for the summer if you want it."
"But Gerard, I can't afford to rent a place like this?"
"Who said anything about rent? I don't think you could get her to accept a dime for it, even if you tried."
Tears started forming in Megan's eyes. "Mrs. Leroux, I don't know how to thank you."
Mrs. Leroux just smiled and patted Megan on the hand. "Write," she said softly.
Megan nodded her head promising to do just that. This was exactly what she needed her own place to get away and write. She wouldn't let anything else distract her from that. No more weddings, no more Brandi, only writing!
Chapter 8
"I just need to focus on work!" Brandi declared for the umpteenth time as she paced the floor of Leah's hotel room Saturday night.
Brandi had been totally confused when Megan abandoned her on the dance floor and Leah had offered a listening ear.
"Maybe she just needs some more time," Leah suggested. "After all, it took us four years before we could have a civil conversation after…"
"After I screwed up," Brandi said cutting her off. "That seems to be the recurring theme here."
"That's not what I was going to say," Leah said softly. "But if you want to keep beating yourself up go right ahead."
Brandi just stayed silent.
"My point is you can't rush someone when they're healing from being hurt."
"It was ten frigging yeas ago!" Brandi grumbled between her clenched teeth and then began pacing again.
"Can I ask you something?" Leah said.
Brandi looked up at her. Something about Leah's expression made her consider saying no.
"Ask."
"Why is all of this upsetting you so much? I mean like you said, it was ten years ago."
Brandi collapsed onto one of the double beds, put her hands over her face and groaned.
"I don't know. It's like something inside me snapped when I saw Megan again. It was like being given a second chance."
"Why did you kiss that boy in front of Megan back then?" Leah asked.
Brandi felt a lump forming in her throat. She took a deep breath trying to dislodge it but no such luck.
"I did it because I was afraid that my friends might have seen Megan and I kissing."
"And you weren't ready to share the truth about how you felt about her?"
Brandi just sighed.
"And why did you cheat on me when the two of us were dating?"
Brandi looked up in a panic.
"Calm down, I'm not trying to ambush you. I already know the answer to the question. I just want to see if you do."
Brandi sat quietly rolling the clock back in her mind.
"And?" Leah coaxed.
"And I was too afraid to tell you that."
"So, there's the pattern. You use to do destructive things when you were afraid to speak your truth."
Brandi hunched her shoulder. "Yeah, I guess."
"But you told Megan the truth when she confronted you in your room the other day, right."
"Yeah. I did," Brandi said with just a little bit of healthy pride.
"So, you've matured. You're ready to handle things differently at this point in your life. That's great!"
Brandi wrinkled her face. "I don't know how great it is when the woman still can't stand to be in the same room with me for more than ten minutes at a time."
Leah let out a loud laugh. "Sadly, the only part you get to control is speaking your truth. What the other person does with that information is totally out of your hands. This isn't like buying real estate where you can just keep going back to the property owner, teasing them with a better price until you get what you want."
"Ha!" Brandi had to laugh out loud at that. Leah had nailed what Brandi loved most about her job. "I'm not very good at taking no for an answer."
"You're not even very good at taking wait for an answer," Leah giggled. "But that's what's required in the non-work part of life. Sometimes you just have to wait and see what happens."
***
Brandi couldn't resist the urge to kiss Leah on the cheek as they stood outside the hotel Monday morning. They'd spent the whole night talking about life and relationships and Leah had helped Brandi face some stuff she hadn't really wanted to face about herself.
"When did you get to be so wise?" Brandi asked with a laugh as she took Leah's hand and headed for the parking lot to catch a taxi to the airport.
Once she saw Leah off, Brandi took a shuttle to the nearest car rental company and rented a car. Time to focus on what she did best. Work.
She spent the rest of the day driving around the area surrounding St. Amelia taking pictures of potential real estate development sites for Rousseau. By the time she was ready to have dinner she'd identified at least four properties and was finally beginning to feel like her normal confident self again. So much so she thought a little club hopping might be in order later in the evening.
When Brandi walked into the hotel lobby she realized how quite everything was without the wedding guests around. Instead of going into the empty restaurant she decided to order room service and relax a little before heading out to the club. She'd just finished her meal when her cell phone rang.
"Hey!" she answered the phone enthusiastically when she saw Franco's name on the screen.
"Well, don't you sound cheery today. I guess this means your woman troubles are over."
"You bet they are," she said smiling to herself. "That is unless I find some more trouble at the club tonight. What's up with you? You sound a bit cheerier yourself."
"Yes, I am," Franco said. "That's what happened when I came to my senses and fired the decorating committee. I'm handling the decorations for the gala by myself as usual. It just works out better this way."
Brandi curled up on her bed ready to hear the story of whatever decorating faux pas had finally pushed Franco to his limit. She flipped channels on the television as she listened to Franco's story in one ear while catching up on her favorite nighttime soap opera in the other. Strangely she didn't even remember ending the call, but when she woke up the next morning she was sprawled across her hotel bed still fully dressed. Some nightlife.
Face it, kid, you're getting old.
She chuckled to herself before jumping into the shower to start another day of property hunting.
Her system was simple. If she found a piece of land she was interested in she'd knock on the front door to see if the owner was home. In her introduction she never mentioned that she worked for a real estate developer, instead, she'd say she was an architectural student doing research on the local medieval buildings or a geology student studying the rock formations along the mountainside. It was easier to get information out of potential seller that way and since any future negotiations would actually be done through a real estate broker she didn't have any concerns about her fictitious cover being blown.
Even though by 5 pm Tuesday Brandi had only increased her property list by three parcels of land she still felt like she'd had a successful day. Several of the homeowners she'd spoken to were resistant to the thought of selling their property, but a few became a little more interested when she mentioned how much sellers only a few miles away had gotten for their land.
Brandi was driving past the last stretch of road before getting back to the central square in St. Amelia when she rounded a curve part of the road and was greeted by a vista that took her breath away. She quickly pulled her car over and parked. She looked up and down the road but only saw one mailbox sitting out along the street.
Was it possible that this whole stretch of land belonged to one property owner? If so, the lot must have been at least six or seven acres across and she had no idea how deep the property went.
Brandi walked to the front door and knocked. She'd decided to use the geology student cover since she could clearly see part of the property must have butted up against the mountainside. There was no answer after her first knock, so she knocked again and then waited a few minutes. The sun was low enough on the horizon that she could tell there were lights on inside the house. Someone had to be home and if they weren't maybe she could get a better idea of the size of the property from a peek behind the house.
She tipped around to the side of the home. As she walked past the kitchen window she could smell something burning. Okay, someone was definitely home although possibly not the best cook.
When she got to the back of the house she knocked on the back door. Again no answer. There were windows on either side of the door. She peeked through the one to the right and got a clear view of a small dining room but no residents were in sight. Then she looked into the window on the left. She could see the stove and the source of the offending burnt smell. A cloud of grey smoke was billowing up from a large pot. She squinted her eye so she could better see the rest of the kitchen.What she saw next made her jump back in fright. Someone's legs — a woman's — laying on the floor.
She rushed to the back door again knocking harder than she did before. When there was no answer she tried the doorknob, and the door swung open.
"Hello!" she called out and then rushed toward the kitchen. As she reached the kitchen door there she got a clear view of an elderly woman sprawled out on a floor surrounded by clusters of fresh strawberries and the broken shards of a mixing bowl.
Brandi rushed over to the woman, dropped to her knees and felt for a pulse. Thankfully she found one.
"Madame? Madame? she said loudly hoping for an answer.
The woman didn't respond, but when Brandi leaned her head closer she could feel the woman's warm breath on her ear. A wave of relief overtook Brandi. At least she was breathing, but Brandi had no idea what her other injuries might have been.
She pulled out her cell phone and dialed 112, the emergency number in France. The emergency operator stayed on the phone with her asking her questions about the women's condition and what she saw in the room.
"No. Her eyes are closed. Yes, she's breathing but she doesn't respond when I talk to her."
As Brandi waited for the ambulance to arrive she turned off the flame under the pot on the stove and pick some of the strawberries and broken glass off the floor. It took about 15 minutes before Brandi heard the ambulance sirens in the distance. It felt like the longest fifteen minutes of her life. She was still sitting on the floor just holding the woman's hand and doing her best to stay calm when the ambulance pulled up in front of the house. She got up and ran through this stranger's the living room to open the front door. Two tall, well-built paramedics rushed into the house.
"How long has she been unconscious,"
the one closest to Brandi asked.
"I really don't know. I just stopped by and saw her laying here on the floor. I'm not sure what happened."
The paramedics came in and began to assess the women's condition.
Brandi was standing in the corner out of their way when she heard a voice that sounded strangely familiar calling from the back door.
"Ms. Leroux, I heard the sirens and…" Megan stopped mid sentence when she saw Brandi standing in the middle of the room. "What's going on? What are you doing here? Where's Mrs. Leroux.?"
Brandi glanced toward the kitchen and Megan ran past her. When she saw Mrs. Leroux on the floor she almost screamed.
"Oh my god! Mrs. Leroux! What happened? What's going on?" She looked back at Brandi waiting for an explanation.
"I'm not sure. I found her there on the floor and called the paramedics."
By this time the two burly men had lifted Mrs. Leroux's body onto a gurney and were beginning to wheel her through the door.
"Are you a relative, ma'am?" one of them asked when he saw Megan.
"No. I'm a friend. I'm staying in the cottage down the hill."
"Do you know if she has any relatives in the area?"
Megan shook her head. "No. I know she has a son who lives in Paris. I can try to reach him through another friend."
"That would be helpful, ma'am. We're going to take her to St Vincent's in Nice. Please have her family contact the E.R. intake desk at the hospital."
Megan just stood there wide eyed nodding her head up and down as she watched the men wheel the elderly woman out of the room. Brandi could see that she was shaking like a leaf.
"Megan, I have a rental car. I can drive you to the hospital if you'd like." Brandi could feel her heart in her throat as Megan turned to her with tear filled eyes.
"Yes, thank you," Megan said almost in a daze.
They followed the men out the door and watched them lift the gurney into the ambulance.
"I need to let Gerard know what's going on," Megan mumbled in a barely audible voice.
