“By next week?" repeated Amanda. "I don’t know if I can. I have to check with my employer, and of course, I wanted to speak with you first before booking any flight. If I were to go and see you, would staying a few days be enough to go through all the paperwork in case I were to accept the inheritance?"
"Enough? Well, yes and no, madam. You see, it’s not a simple inheritance we're talking about. Sure, there are a lot of forms to sign and a lot of procedures to follow, and French bureaucracy can be slow, but it’s not what I'm worried about. In fact, I'd suggest that you come here and stay for a while before you make any decision. I'd say... maybe one or two months?"
Amanda nearly spit her coffee on the letter. What about her plans in the south of France and the expensive cooking lessons that she’d already paid for? "Two months!? But I can't. Why would I need to stay that long?"
"Well, there are many things to discuss and you might need time to make up your mind regarding this inheritance before you sign any papers. This is quite an estate we're talking about, Ms. McBride. "
"What do you mean by 'quite an estate?'"
"Miss, you really don't know anything about this property, don't you?"
"No. And I have no clue who this Toinette d'Orvilly you mention in the letter was. Are you sure that she was related to me?"
"Absolutely sure. It took us a year to trace you, but I’m glad we finally found you. Miss, we're talking about something big."
"'Big?' Big like what?"
"Big like a… castle."
Say what?
"Miss?"
Amanda's head was buzzing. "Could you repeat, please, Mr. Perrier? I'm not sure I understood you."
"You inherited a castle. A château, or a manor, if you will."
Silence on the phone.
"A castle?" asked Amanda with a weak voice.
"Yes. And not just any castle, but a medieval castle that's one of the oldest in the area. It's part of the history and heritage of our region, you know. It even attracts tourists who like to stop by and take pictures of it. That's why I suggest an extended stay so that you can visit the castle a few times and get to know the area and our village. See if you like it here and if you have any interest in owning this property. It's a big decision to make."
Amanda looked at d'Artagnan. The dog was moving around her chair impatiently, mouth open and tongue out. This conversation has been lasting forever. Cut it short! I need to eat.
"Miss, I need an answer regarding your visit as soon as possible," said Mr. Perrier on the phone. "Whether you decide to inherit this castle or not, I’m afraid that you'll have to come here to sign some paperwork anyway as there are other details that I can only discuss with you in person."
"Oh?" Amanda felt more anxious every second. "Well, Mr. Perrier, it looks like I haven’t much choice then. I'll be there by next week. Where did you say it was located, again?"
"In Orvilly-sur-Mer. A nice little village in Normandy, by the sea. I'm sure that you'll love it. And you'll eat some good French cuisine here, Miss. Do you like French cuisine?"
Dumbfounded, Amanda looked at d'Artagnan. "D'Art," she whispered, "it looks like I have inherited a castle in Normandy, France. Can you believe this?"
The dog looked at her, indifferent to this last comment. What does that even mean? Did you prepare food?
Chapter 8
A manda was playing with her ponytail, rolling it with her fingers, turning her naturally straight hair into little curls.
“Normandy?” said Kate on the phone. “I know Normandy’s famous because of World War II and D-Day, but pardon my bad geography, where is it exactly? In the north of France?”
“North-west,” answered Amanda. She was comfortably installed on her couch with a blanket, watching a movie without paying much attention to it. D’Artagnan was lying by her side, and Bronx was sleeping on a chair nearby. The cat was snoring loudly, drowning out the movie soundtrack.
“North-west of France? It’s not at all what you had planned,” said Kate. “You’re supposed to go to the south, to Nice, right? What’s Normandy like?”
“Based on the information I’ve found online, the countryside over there is quite green, there are many cowsapparently, really a lotand culinary wise, the region is known for its crème fraîche, Camembert, apple cider, apple pie, and a famous apple brandy called Calvados.”
“Sounds good to me! And perfect for you. So far so good, right?” said Kate with a lot of enthusiasm.
Amanda grimaced. “Hmm… Yes, but there are a few details that bother me: it rains as much there in a year as it rains on our West Coast, but without the sunny breaks. Apparently, it’s quite grey and the days in winter are very short. Some people on online forums even described Normandy as, I quote, ‘a depressing and dreadful region.’ A person wrote ‘besides cows and apples, I don’t know what Normandy has to offer. Why is it so famous?’ And I read this third comment ‘people are awful there. They all seem to be in a bad mood and start drinking Calvados at 8 a.m. in the morning. Gross. Never going back there.’”
Silence on the phone.
“Ah. Bummer,” said Kate, “but you can’t believe what everybody says online. Some people can’t help but complain about everything, these are trolls, you know that. Isn’t there any positive things about it?”
“In the pictures, the villages look cute with their typical half-timbered houses. There are a few famous abbeys and cathedrals to visit, like the Rouen Cathedral that Monet depicted a few times in his paintings. And, of course, there are a few castles.”
“Oh, by the way, did you find any pictures of your château, Madam?” asked Kate with a funny snobbish tone.
“Not so fast, Kate, it’s not my château. At least, not yet. Strangely enough, not many. As it’s a private property, people aren’t allowed to get close to it. I’ve seen some blurry pictures taken from afar, between trees, so it’s hard to figure out what the château looks like.” Amanda paused and sighed. “Kate, it’s not at all the dream trip I’ve been planning for so long. I was supposed to go to the beautiful French Riviera, to enjoy the sun without the rain, to lie on warm sand beaches, not on pebble beaches like Normandy has, to get a nice tan, and most importantly, to take this highly sought-after fine cuisine course with this famous French chef. I had to register one year in advance for this expensive course! If I cancel it now, not only will I lose half of my money, but this course won’t be offered again until next year. ”
“Amanda, I can understand why you’re worried. I know, all this is unexpected and it changes all your plans. It brings stress instead of the relaxing vacation you were hoping for. Normandy doesn’t sound as appealing and exciting as the south of France, fine. But it’s still France, right?” Kate was forcing her enthusiastic tone. “Maybe this Orvi-I-don’t-know-how-to-say-it is a quaint village with a lot of charm? I’m sure you’ll meet nice people there. Not everybody can possibly be grumpy in Normandy. It’s nonsense. This Mr. Perrier sounds nice. And they have good cuisine there too. It’s still France! Right?”
“Right,” answered Amanda with a subdued voice.
“Have you booked your flight yet?”
“Yes,” answered Amanda.
“When do you leave?”
“In two days.”
“Have you packed?”
“Nope.”
“Amanda, I know you, please tell me you’re not going to France with just a pair of jeans, an old t-shirt, and your running shoes?”
Amanda didn’t contradict her friend.
“Remember,” pursued Kate with a very serious tone, “France is not only the country of fine cuisine, it’s also the country of fashion and elegance. Please, do yourself a favour and pack a nice dress, a skirt, or a blouse, I don’t know, something nice. Who knows? You might meet a sexy French man there. Even a chef, maybe? You have to be ready, you never know what might happen.”
Amanda sighed again.
“Kate, where do you get all these crazy ideas?”
; Chapter 9
K ate's daughter was riding d'Artagnan like a horse while her younger brother was pulling one of his ears, and hanging on to one of the dog's legs to keep his balance. Docile and patient, d'Artagnan let the children play with him.
Amanda was nervous. The Great Dane was enjoying his last minutes of freedom before spending twelve hours in a pet cargo crate.
"He's going to be fine, don't worry," said Kate. "You still can leave him with us if you want. The kids would be delighted."
"Thanks, Kate. But a year is too long. I'd miss d'Artagnan too much and he’d feel like I had abandoned him. It’s his first time flying, he’s going to be scared. I hate this." Amanda was pinching her lips nervously.
Two airport employees brought over a big crate. Amanda's heart tightened. She opened the crate door and put a blanket, a big bone and a toy inside it. Then she called d'Artagnan softly. The dog looked at her and at the crate. He didn't move. Amanda called him again.
What do you want me to do, exactly? D'Artagnan knew that the situation was odd. He was suspicious.
"Come on d'Art, go in the crate. Look, there's a bone inside, and a toy!"
You must be kidding me, right? The dog didn't move.
Heartbroken, Amanda pulled d'Artagnan by his collar. He resisted. Amanda caressed him and spoke to him with a soft voice.
"It's just for a few hours, d'Art. I promise that I'll let you out as soon as we land."
The Great Dane sat firmly on his butt. You're really not kidding? Sorry, I'm not going anywhere.
Amanda pushed d'Artagnan's butt. The big dog slid on the floor. Kate's children laughed. Their mother ordered them to stop immediately.
Finally, with great reluctance, d'Artagnan put one leg in the crate. Amanda kept talking to him while playing with the toy.
Is this the end? Are you getting rid of me? Why me and not him instead?!
Quietly resting in Kate's arms, Bronx was observing the scene with a sadistic pleasure.
Goodbye, dumb dog! Get lost in space.
Resigned, d'Artagnan stepped into the crate, and Amanda closed the door. The dog looked at his owner as if he were on death row. The airport employees lifted the crate and put it on a cart. D'Artagnan barked and cried. Amanda watched at the employees walking away with the crate with sadness and guilt.
Kate put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Don't worry, he'll be fine."
"Well, it's time for me to go, I guess," said Amanda. She took Bronx from Kate's arms.
Wait! What? No! Not me too! Noooo!
The cat gesticulated and extended his claws, making it difficult for Amanda and Kate to put him in his cat carrier. Finally, they won and locked the carrier quickly. The cat moved inside like a crazy thing.
"As usual, this cat is a charm," said Kate.
"He should fall asleep soon. I hope. I gave him a sedative prescribed by the veterinarian."
"Good call! Your first flight would be a terrible experience with him awake. Passengers would hate you, and you'd probably never be allowed to fly again on any airline. Ever."
"Thanks for the encouragement, Kate," said Amanda.
Kate laughed. "I was only joking. All will be fine, don't worry. Go, eat a lot of French cuisine and kiss a lot of handsome French men!"
Amanda chuckled. The friends hugged, and Amanda walked to the departure gate, holding an animated and noisy carrier firmly in her hands. People looked at her, intrigued by the odd noise that came from the jiggling container.
Amanda turned around to have a last look at her friend. She wanted to say goodbye, but she could barely free a hand to wave to Kate and her children.
Chapter 10
A fter twelve long hours sitting in waiting areas, checking-in at departure gates, and boarding planes, Amanda finally reached her destination. As soon as the plane landed in Paris, she rushed to get d'Artagnan back. She opened the crate door with eagerness and anxiety. The Great Dane looked a bit dizzy.
"Hello d'Art, we have arrived in Paris!"
D'Artagnan jumped up on Amanda. They were both excited by this happy reunion. Meanwhile, Bronx was sound asleep in his box, tongue out and snoring. Amanda had given him another dose of sedative when she had gotten hateful looks and grumbles from other passengers because of the horrible monster in the box. She remembered what Kate had told her, and knew she had to knock the cat out. Although she had felt guilty taking such measures, she had been quite relieved by her decision.
Is he dead? wondered d'Artagnan, sniffing the carrier. Good riddance! This painful trip was worth it.
Amanda grabbed a luggage cart and put her big suitcase on it, and the cat carrier on top of the suitcase.
The dog frowned. Why do you keep him? He's dead. My suggestion is that you leave him here.
Amanda walked as fast as she could in the big and busy Charles De Gaulle airport, looking for the taxi station. There were several escalators above her, covered with transparent Plexiglas, crossing the vast space in all directions, taking thousands of people to their next destinations.
It looked surreal. Amanda had the odd feeling of being in a science fiction movie, a strange experience intensified by her fatigue and jet lag. D'Artagnan was still a bit groggy, but thrilled to be able to stretch his long legs. Intrigued and amused, people turned their heads to watch the petite woman with the tall dog as they walked by.
When Amanda arrived at the taxi station, she found a long line of people waiting for cars, all as tired as she was, some of them in a bad mood. It was already late and dark outside. Amanda looked forward to sleeping in a comfortable bed, in the hotel room she had booked. But for this, she had to go to the district of Saint-Lazare, and it seemed too far away at that moment. Both she and her pets needed a good night’s sleep because they weren't at the end of their trip yet. They still had a four hour journey by train the following day to arrive at their final destination, Orvilly-sur-Mer. At least, one of them was getting some rest. Bronx had not opened an eye yet.
At 5 a.m. sharp, a cat full of energy woke up after twenty hours of deep regenerating sleep. Furious to find that he was still trapped in his carrier—exhausted by the long trip, Amanda had left the box on the floor when she had arrived in the hotel room, and had slumped on the bed to fall sound asleep within seconds— Bronx kicked at his box with all his strength, increased tenfold because of his anger, and slashed the thick plastic with his sharp claws. His paws forced the box open, and his legs came through. Amanda and d'Artagnan were awoken by a screeching carrier with four legs running in panic in the bedroom, hitting the furniture and the walls randomly.
"Oh my God! Bronx!"
Amanda ran after the carrier, caught it, and unzipped the opening quickly to free the cat. Bronx popped out of the box, howling like a demon, his hair bristled and his back curved, ready to attack.
Jesus! Is this what they call 'a resurrection?' wondered d'Artagnan. I liked this cat better when he was dead.
Amanda fell back on the bed. "For Christ's sake, Bronx, it's only 5 a.m. Our train doesn't leave until 10 a.m. I need to sleep."
For Cat's sake! I've been sleeping enough! screeched Bronx, and I'm staaarving!
The cat kept on complaining. Giving up on the last few hours of sleep she needed, Amanda stood up, walked like a zombie to her suitcase, and looked for something. She pulled out a small bag of cat food and dropped some in a bowl. Bronx rushed to it to devour the kibbles. Amanda did the same for d'Artagnan, and put his bowl on the other side of the room to avoid any incident.
The pets ate like gluttons, making a lot of chewing noises. But Amanda, who was starving too, would have to wait another hour to fill her empty stomach. The hotel's restaurant didn't open until 6 a.m.
Chapter 11
“O
h, my... Now, that's a train station."
Amanda walked down the huge hall of the Saint-Lazare train station, pulling her suitcase on wheels with one hand, holding Bronx in his cat carrier patched with duct tape in the other. She had wrapped d'Artagnan's le
ash around her wrist.
The station was bustling and crowded on this Tuesday morning. People walked quickly in all directions, bumping into each other, which seemed to be the normal thing to do as they never stopped to apologize. Their only goal was to keep going wherever they were heading.
Amanda felt lost and overwhelmed. Her head was spinning. She checked the platform number on her ticket. D'Artagnan stopped abruptly, staring at a little boy who was eating a pain au chocolat. The dog pulled on his leash, and Amanda was dragged backward.
"Look Mommy! It's Scooby-Doo."
Amanda pulled hard on the leash. "D'Art, come on. We don't have time to stop."
D'Artagnan remained planted in front of the child and opened his mouth, showing him a broad smile. He should understand, the message was clear. Enchanted, the kid handed over his pain au chocolat to the dog. D'Artagnan gobbled it all at once.
Amanda turned green when she saw this. "Oh my God, d'Art," whispered Amanda.
The little boy started to cry. "Hey, why did you eat everything?" protested the boy. “I just wanted to give you a little piece.”
The mother looked at her son. "What did you do with your pain au chocolat? Did you eat it all already? I told you not to eat so fast."
Amanda felt terrible. In other circumstances, she would've stopped to apologize and would've bought the kid another pastry. But she was in a hurry and she didn't have time to deal with this. She quickly walked away and disappeared into the crowd, pulling hard on d'Artagnan's leash.
"You should be ashamed of yourself, mister. These are not the manners I taught you! And you know that you’re not allowed to eat chocolate!"
D'Artagan was licking his chops, not caring a bit about what had happened. Hey, these things taste much better here.
Amanda saw the sign for platform 24 going to Orvilly-sur-Mer, and ran to find compartment 11. As it was in the middle of the long train, she hurried so she wouldn’t miss the departure. The carrier box containing Bronx bounced in all directions and the cat meowed in protest. With his long legs, d'Artagnan kept up easily, walking like a tourist smelling the flowers. Well, he wasn’t exactly smelling flowers, but food, everywhere. He already loved the place.
French Cuisine Can Kill You Page 3
