I Promise You This (Love in Provence Book 3)

by Patricia Sands

  “I know! I know!” Kat agreed. “I don’t have to explain why I’m in love with all of these villages and areas.”

  They parked on the edge of town and walked to Henri and Sylvie’s house. Sylvie took them on a tour of the most beautiful nooks and crannies of Roussillon, sharing history and secret stories. She made certain they didn’t miss a single captivating aspect of the village. Passing a local artist’s studio, Molly couldn’t resist purchasing two posters. “These are going to be framed and have a place of honor in my living room,” she declared.

  Next they began the winding and picturesque ten-kilometer drive to Gordes. Katherine was delighted that Sylvie had offered to drive for the remainder of the day, since she knew the back roads of her home territory intimately.

  “Sylvie, I can’t thank you enough. Now I won’t have to subject Molly to the possibility of becoming hopelessly lost with me driving, GPS or no GPS. I’ve already proven that on the maze of country routes around here!”

  Sylvie laughed. “C’est mon plaisir! It’s always fun to be a guide around our beautiful countryside, which we never take for granted. There are few days when I don’t smile at our good fortune to live here.”

  The day was mild and sunny, and at one point Sylvie suggested that Molly roll down her window and breathe in the air. “The best thing about driving here is smelling the scenery as well as seeing it.”

  They inhaled noisily, and Katherine was instantly reminded of how she had been charmed by the aromatic air during her first exchange. “I loved savoring the fragrant scents as I walked to Sainte-Mathilde or biked these roads. It was like having an intense aromatherapy session every time!”

  “Of course, it was even better for you in June. You would have had the benefit of peak fragrance season from so many plants!” Sylvie concurred.

  They stopped en route to visit Sylvie’s friend’s lavender farm. Molly found it intriguing to hear how that couple had packed in their professional careers in Paris to take on the challenge of their acreage. “I’m definitely coming back some year at the end of June so I can see all these fields in bloom,” she promised them.

  The first view of Gordes drew an actual squeal from Molly. Sylvie pulled over at the popular photo spot. Molly stood on a rocky ledge above a hundred-foot drop to take the perfect shot of the breathtaking village that tumbled from the castle on high to the valley below.

  “You know,” she said to Sylvie, “this would absolutely never be allowed in North America. There would be a tall fence for sure!” She couldn’t stop exclaiming at the unique beauty of the area. “Sorry for repeating myself, but this is quite overwhelming.”

  Sylvie smiled. “I understand completely.”

  Katherine had already told Molly that the steep cobbled streets of Gordes would offer some challenges for her walking. “You called that right!” Molly agreed. They decided to simply take in some shops on the main square, then go into the castle. Side streets would be saved for a future visit.

  Since they had the time, Sylvie took them past ancient bories and into the picturesque isolated valley of the Abbaye de Sénanque. Molly’s face changed as the storied twelfth-century Cistercian abbey and cloisters came into view.

  “It’s easy to picture how this will look when all those rows of lavender are in bloom,” Molly said as Katherine took photo after photo.

  “I haven’t been here before either, Molly. It’s enchanting even without the flowers.”

  Sylvie had a special place to take them for lunch. They drove between high stone gates and down a long lane to a pastoral setting overlooked by a classic stone farmhouse with traditional blue shutters. Beneath the trees on the terrace, elegant tables were set with white china and yellow glassware on soft blue tablecloths that complemented the shutters. Sheep and goats grazed in a nearby field.

  The setting was as idyllic as the meal was delicious.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Molly felt as though she would burst with pleasure the entire weekend. Never had she imagined how anything could match the time she’d spent with Katherine in Antibes the previous summer.

  “I have to tell you, Katski, this visit is a close frickin’ second! Visually, gastronomically, and socially, this is superb. There’s a completely different ambiance, of course, not being on the sea. But it’s a magical area, that’s for sure!”

  After their day spent touring with Sylvie, they returned to Joy’s to discover the three dogs running about as if they were old friends. Picasso was patient with the young ones as they nipped at his ears, and he gently caught them and rolled them over from time to time.

  When Katherine went outside, Pico came to her side and waited patiently for her to scratch his ears. Rocco and Coco clung to him like shadows, and their constant activity caused laughter from all who were watching. Fatigue still came upon the pups suddenly, and there were a number of spontaneous naps during the afternoon.

  Before dinner they all went for a hike through the field with Oncle François’s goats, now faithfully watched over by the young local Philippe. He smiled and waved as they passed by. Joy told Katherine the young man had accepted Oncle François as a mentor and spent hours talking with him, debating serious topics and discovering his own self-worth. “It has been wonderful for us to watch his transition,” she told them, “and we see the benefits it brings François as well . . . it’s a new lease on life for both of them.”

  On Sunday morning there was a brocante in Sainte-Mathilde, and the women all went in to browse for flea market treasures. Meanwhile, the men played a serious game of boules since Philippe would not be there for an afternoon game.

  Molly was eagerly anticipating the lunch that Joy’s brother-in-law and his wife—Jean-Pierre and Madeleine Lallibert—were hosting at their farmhouse. She had become friends with the couple when they stayed in Kat’s house in Toronto on their part of the exchange with her.

  “I can’t wait to see this farmhouse where the dreams of your new life began,” Molly said to Katherine as they walked through the vineyard.

  “I’m looking forward to spending time at the house again too,” Katherine said. “There are some powerful memories to relive there, that’s for sure!”

  A light feast of charcuterie, salads, and warm baguette was laid out on the dining table. Desserts were the serious items of this meal and Hélène had spent the morning preparing chocolat fondant, crème brûlée, tarte au citron avec meringue, and petits beignets filled with apple purée that simply melted in your mouth.

  As it always seemed to be, conversation was light and the air filled with laughter. English, French, and something in between made it all work. Picasso and the pups provided comic relief.

  In the afternoon, good-byes were said and plans made to see each other later in May, which was fast approaching. Molly was scheduled to leave before the middle of May, eager to prepare for the next school year. She was certain she would receive a full medical clearance based on how she was feeling.

  The drive back to Antibes passed quickly and quietly with everyone except Philippe sound asleep. Philippe told Kat later that he’d used that quiet time to think over some details he and Katherine and Molly were discussing in preparation of launching their FromageGraphie website. They were excited that it was all coming together.

  Traffic was light on this late March day, and they made good time returning to the coast. Arriving back in town, Katherine wakened just as Philippe was ending what seemed to be a brief phone conversation.

  They hadn’t been home more than a few minutes when the buzzer to their apartment sounded. Katherine was surprised when Philippe moved quickly to answer, though she’d been closer to the door.

  Katherine continued preparing dinner; Molly was in her room unpacking her weekend bag.

  Philippe spoke quietly into the intercom phone.

  Moments later, he took Katherine by the hand and led her down the hall to their bedroom. As a knock lightly sounded on the front door, Philippe called out to Molly, “Would you mind ge
tting the door please, Molly? Kat and I are busy, thanks!”

  “Sure thing,” Molly responded, and they heard the front door open. Silence followed.

  Katherine was quizzing Philippe on what was happening, and he sat her on the bed, his finger to his lips. “Be patient for a few minutes, Minou. Then we will know what is going on.”

  Low voices could be heard coming from the salon. Katherine looked at Philippe in alarm, thinking she heard Molly crying softly.

  “I’m worried. Please tell me who was at the door. What’s going on, Philippe?”

  “Tony is here. He flew to Rome last week to finalize his church business and meet with some old friends. Now he has come to spend time with Molly. And he hopes to take her back to Toronto with him.”

  Katherine whispered back, her voice urgent, “Oh my gosh! Do you think that’s a wise idea? Surprising her like this?”

  “From what Tony has said to me lately, he feels this is the best way to handle things, rather than giving Molly a chance to tell him not to come. He’s in no hurry, and I told him he could stay with us as long as he wants. He insisted on booking a hotel, so I called Jean and got him a room at Le Relais du Postillon.”

  The charming, two-star hotel was just minutes away, with a perfect location in the heart of the old town. They were fond of the young owners and liked to support them whenever they could. Philippe always recommended it to his business contacts.

  He continued, “I think it’s all good, but it will be something unexpected for Molly. Tony confirmed he’s completed the plan he told us about in Toronto.”

  Katherine stood up and paced near the bedroom door. Then she sat down quickly on the bed. “It’s over? He’s left the Catholic Church?”

  Philippe sat next to her. “Yes. He and I have been talking during the past month. You know that he and Molly have talked pretty much every day, but he never did let on what he was doing. He has been accepted as an Anglican priest and will go through some months of transition. His superiors in the Catholic Church were not completely surprised, and although they are not happy, the break has gone as smoothly as it could.”

  “Should we go out there with them?” Kat asked.

  “Let’s give them some time. Tony was worried how Molly would take the news.”

  They both lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Katherine slipped her hand into Philippe’s. He squeezed it gently.

  Katherine repeated under her breath, “Please let Molly be happy about this. Please let Molly be happy about this.”

  After what seemed like forever, there was a knock on the door. Molly called them to come out.

  Katherine stared at Molly’s tear-stained face as she stood in the hallway holding onto Tony’s hand. “Oh Molly, are you okay? Tony, welcome! Philippe has just been explaining . . . kind of . . . sort of . . . Are you both okay?’

  Tony smiled and nodded, still saying nothing. Molly held out her left hand to show a beautiful ring. Delicate strands of gold and diamonds twisted together to create a stunning single band. Now she was sobbing so hard, words were impossible.

  “I’m so happy for you both.” Katherine cried. There was a jumble of handshakes and bises and then joyful hugs before they all moved as one toward the salon.

  “I’ll get the champagne,” Philippe told them.

  “I’ll get the tissues,” Katherine said. “I have a feeling we’ll need a lot of both.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  The fifth of May had finally arrived.

  Katherine took the luxury of lying in bed to think back over the past month. She decided it had been the best four weeks she ever experienced. “Love” had been the operative word.

  After Tony had arrived in Antibes to ask Molly to marry him, their joy at being able to freely acknowledge their feelings gave them a new lease on life.

  Katherine and Philippe convinced Tony and Molly to stay at the apartment with them for as long as they wished. Tony had a commitment in Toronto on May sixteenth, so they’d have to leave by then.

  The two couples had cemented their friendship with hours of conversation about life, love, and the future, and had shared many memorable adventures. Philippe had planned day trips to all of their favorite destinations.

  Then three days earlier, he sent Molly, Tony, and Katherine off to Avignon for an overnight stay. “You need more than a day there, and I’m too busy to go,” he said as he waved them off.

  “You’re giving us a total-immersion experience of the Côte d’Azur and Provence!” Tony declared as they set out on yet another exploration. “There’s no question you’re ensuring Molly and I will be back after all of these little tastes we’re having.”

  “Mission accomplished!” Philippe replied.

  Katherine’s shipment from Toronto had finally arrived in the middle of April. The crate had endured a lengthy series of detours via Finland, Morocco, and Amsterdam before it eventually ended up in a storage facility in Marseille. None of the authorities could offer a reasonable explanation, but Kat was just happy to receive her possessions. She and Molly spent a few afternoons unpacking some boxes and putting others in storage until the villa restoration was completed.

  As Kat placed her photos, books, and art around their apartment, she felt a growing contentment. She was home. She was happy to have these items from her past. But she knew now that she carried all the important aspects of her past inside her heart, and they would remain with her wherever she chose to live her life.

  On a recent walk, she had said to Molly, “At some point when I was first back in Toronto, the words ‘home is where the heart is’ filtered through my mind. At the time, I was struggling with the uncertainties I was feeling about moving to France. Those words stayed with me.”

  Molly looked pensive. “Well, I wasn’t exactly a lot of help at the time, was I?”

  Kat snorted and shook her head. “You were otherwise occupied, and I wasn’t about to burden you with my crazy thoughts.”

  “Were you ever doubting your love for Philippe, or his for you?”

  “I don’t think I ever doubted that. I just got hung up on the thought that by moving, I’d depend on him for my entire happiness. I thought I might not be able to truly take charge of my new life. Nick told me I had a simple case of cold feet, and I think he was right.”

  “Oh man, I love Nick! But, you know, it is a big deal to just up and start over in a new country with a different language, traditions, culture. How do you feel now? From what I’ve seen, you’ve done it . . . in fine style! I’m so happy for you.”

  “I’m happy for me too, Moll. For all of us! How cool that at this stage of our lives we can move on to new chapters and be happy in ways we never were before.”

  “Katski, my former self would have one word for all that is happening in our lives right now.”

  Kat’s eyes crinkled with laughter. “I know, I know. It’s fanfrickintastic!”

  “Something like that,” Molly laughed back.

  Most mornings in April, while Philippe was at work, Tony had spent his time at the villa. He was a man of many surprises.

  Shortly after arriving in Antibes, he had disclosed that his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had been master tile craftsmen in Italy. The skill had been passed on to Tony as a child, and he often indulged in it as a hobby. Even Molly had been unaware of this interest. Through all the years they had been lovers, she had never been in his living quarters, since his apartment was in a large residence owned by the church.

  “I’ve tiled and retiled all the bathrooms and kitchens in that residence,” he had told them with a chuckle.

  With Philippe and Kat’s blessing, he had set to work creating a colorful fresco on a terrace wall at the villa. Filled with floral designs and birdlife patterned after the overflowing gardens on the property, it was his gift to them for taking such good care of Molly and for being so supportive of the two of them.

  Didier and his équipe had been skeptical at first, but they soon saw Tony kne
w what he was doing. They made certain he had all the materials he required, and within a few days they presented him with a beret, which he proudly wore.

  Katherine put an end to her reverie. It was time to start this most special day.

  First, Kat and Molly drove to the Cap to pick flowers from the gardens for a bouquet. Philippe insisted they not take the pups along, as they normally would. He said he and Tony would take them for a walk instead.

  The morning sun glistened on the waves that gently washed over the rocks bordering the foot of the Cap property. There was only the slightest suggestion of a breeze. The temperature was warm for the fifth of May, and poppies were blooming.

  Molly was emphatic that they not even think about going into the villa, as time was of the essence. She knew Katherine was always keen to see the progress every time she was over there.

  Kat was surprised to discover all the entrances sealed with caution tape. It also seemed odd that all the shutters were tightly closed. Indeed, it appeared that no one was working today.

  She called Philippe to ask about it. He explained that Didier told him they had been laying tile throughout the villa, so the floors could not be walked on for several days. The men were having a well-earned day off, he said.

  Kat and Molly picked a beautiful assortment of fresh blooms from the garden. From a garden tap, they filled a vase they had brought. Molly carefully placed it by the car.

  Then they walked along the path Didier had uncovered and restored, over to Simone’s garden. They found her outside, perched on one of her whimsical wrought-iron benches, with Victor Hugo contentedly grazing nearby.

  A small easel was set up, and she was sketching a gardenia from the bush next to her. An entire hedge of the blossoms was in full bloom, perfuming the air, and the women inhaled deeply before talking.