I reminded him that it had been a long drive, and a long week, and then I went back to bed.
He slipped into his pajamas and joined me a moment later.
For the first time since he’d left, I slept soundly through the night.
Love is a bicycle with two pancakes for wheels. You may see love as more of an exercise in hard work, but I see it as more of a breakfast on the go.
—JAROD KINTZ
“I can’t stop there,” Caterina said, after recounting Gilles’s bathtub nap.
“I’ll keep reading, if you like.”
Letizia waved a hand. “But of course.”
“Chloé and I have plans to drive into town today,” Sophie said. “The rest of you are welcome to join us, if you like.”
Caterina placed her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. “Town. Any good boutiques in town?” she asked Sandrine, her gaze cutting toward me. “Dress boutiques?”
“Ah, Montagnac is small, the real shopping is in Toulouse or Bordeaux, but there are a couple shops.”
“Might be worth looking,” Caterina said lightly, turning to me. “Are you game?”
“Yes,” Letizia chimed in. “Because you need a dress, Juliette.”
“No bridal boutiques,” Sandrine cautioned. “The local girls travel for their wedding dresses.”
I looked down at the diary and back up. “I’d be into a trip to town, see the sights. Are you okay reading just a little bit longer?”
“Can I wash my hair first?” Chloé asked. “Before we leave?”
Sophie nodded. “Of course.”
Chloé bit her lip. “Can you help me with the faucet?”
Sandrine explained the nuances of French plumbing, and mother and daughter exited with promises to join us when we were ready to explore town.
“Not much more this morning,” Caterina said as she picked the blue diary back up. “I should give Damian a hand with the boys today, so I shouldn’t linger too long before we leave.” She turned pages, finding where she’d left off.
“Mireille sounds happier,” Sandrine observed.
“There are so many terrible jokes I could make,” Caterina said. “But yes,” she added dryly. “I’ll get back to the diary.”
Dearest Gabriel,
I woke this morning to find a steaming cup of chamomile (coffee is too dear, you know) and toast with jam on my nightstand. I ate and enjoyed the luxury before dressing and readying for the day.
Gilles sat at the desk in the sitting room, and when I entered, he gestured for me to join him at the settee.
I sat and tucked my ankles beneath myself.
He looked at his hands, and then at me. “I am very sorry,” he said.
I shook my head and told him not to trouble himself—I knew he’d been very tired.
He reached out and took my hand. “I should have sent word sooner. I was thoughtless. I’m not a bachelor anymore.”
“No?” I asked. And I meant the question, because I didn’t know, exactly, what we were.
Gilles searched my face, so I searched his. I hadn’t really looked at him since I left home. I didn’t look that night beside the road. I’d looked everywhere else since Paris, since we rewrote our own histories because an army of madmen decided that we mattered.
He’d changed; lines emphasized the shape of his eyes—he’d inherited the Bessette eyes. Large, almond shaped, and the same gray-green as lavender leaves, framed by low, thoughtful brows. An indelicate person would call his nose strong, but it suited the sharp cheekbones and cleft chin. His was a face of angles and shadows, eyes designed to study the clouds to divine the weather.
I don’t know if he saw clouds or fair skies in my face, but he spoke after several long moments.
“No, I’m not a bachelor anymore. I have you and Gabrielle to think of, and I should have told you sooner. I hope I didn’t cause you worry.”
“Not much,” I said, aiming for lightness.
I don’t think he believed me.
“The Germans have taken more of my factory workers and shipped them to the German factories. The existing factories are working on a third of the employees. I worked with the foremen to arrange it so that the remaining workers work for a week each per location—the output is only a little higher, but the accidents are fewer. If we lose any more, though…” He gave a shrug.
“That’s clever,” I said. “Are you sure you can afford to be here? Do you need to return to Toulouse?”
“I believe I’m needed here,” he said. “As I said, I’m not a bachelor anymore. Additionally, it is a miracle this place hasn’t been visited by soldiers yet.”
I mentioned that being in the woods had its advantages.
“The woods will keep them out only for so long. Your father, Richard, and I need to have a discussion about how to protect the family’s assets.”
“Maman hid the Dutch masters the instant the Nazis marched across the border,” I reminded him.
“The Dutch masters are important, but so are the food stores and the livestock. And the longer the war goes on, the more the neighbors may become a problem.”
I widened my eyes. “You believe your mother will sneak into the garden to steal carrots?”
“Not my mother, I don’t think. But the villagers on rations may feel desperate enough to see what they can take.”
“Do you intend to build a wall? Like China to keep the Mongols out?”
“I thought to use a rainwater cistern to irrigate a rooftop garden, and pipes from the well water to supplement.”
That surprised me a good deal, though it sounded like it might work. I asked if he thought to keep the livestock up there as well. He shook his head, and said he was still thinking of ideas, though too many were predicated on the animals not making the sounds that animals do.
And then he said that there may come a time when the animals were simply going to be appropriated, and that we might be better off butchering, drying, and preserving what we could, and then storing it somewhere hidden.
In another time, I would have dismissed such talk as being paranoid and cynical. But I had heard enough to know that he was entirely right—we were at the mercy of enemy soldiers.
Dearest Gabriel,
Richard and Gilles are in agreement. They have informed my parents that they think it wisest to stop keeping household staff, with the exception of Françoise and Marise. They conceded that they could hire a housekeeper to clean once a week, but that economies must be taken, and if we are to have secret food stores, they must be a secret.
Gilles laid out a plan involving the removal of items of value, the closing of unused rooms, and the building of false walls.
At this point, my father’s eyes grew shifty. He explained that the chateau had been built and then added on to, over the centuries, and that the very oldest parts had a few “architectural surprises.”
First, there was a tunnel from the kitchen cellar to a door hidden in the forest, and another near the stables.
Second, there was a passageway leading from the master suite—my parents’ rooms, built during the second phase—running the full height of the building. They could go to the roof or the main floor. The builder of the first passageway must not have known about the other passageway, my father concluded, or else the two would have connected usefully. He supposed that the second was included with the political tensions of the Revolution in mind, should the titled landowner need to flee without detection. Or, he added, sneak into his mistress’s chambers.
Maman was horrified that he’d said the word “mistress,” but Papa just shrugged. Cécile and I had to work very hard not to laugh.
Maman couldn’t conceive of the idea of not having a house full of staff, but when she protested, Gilles pointed out that fewer people in the house meant fewer people who could inform.
And that made Gabrielle and Alice just a little bit safer.
Maman couldn’t disagree with that.
Cécile and I promised t
hat we would do our part. Cécile was excited—she has always longed to be useful—and I used to keep our Paris apartment, you know. So with a maid coming for the necessary scrubbing, I’m sure we will get by.
Our job next week is to take into account the household valuables, and that will be difficult.
It’s only been in the family for four generations; my ancestor bought it for a song and restored it to life.
However, it’s four generations enough, especially considering that my great-grandmother had an obsession with period furniture and bric-a-brac. There are Louis XIV chairs and a great many sideboards and highboys and other pieces of furniture that I cannot identify other than by saying “it has drawers.”
We will assume, out here, that German soldiers will have no wish to cart the larger pieces out. Maman has already hidden the Dutch masters, but intends to set aside the best of the silver for storage.
Little has been done yet, but there is a plan.
I confess, my heart is warmed hearing Gilles’s desire for the safety of both girls.
Dearest Gabriel,
Richard suggested that neither Cécile nor I stray too far from the grounds, in case we find soldiers or desperate persons who might do us harm, reminding us that wars can make enemies of friends.
I wished to visit the orchards, which are at the edge of the property and near to the forest. I’m still saddened, dearest, that you were never able to see the chateau for yourself.
So because I wished to go to the orchards, I asked Gilles to join me. I carried a basket with my right hand, but as we walked, his hand slipped around my left hand, taking hold, encasing it. We walked that way, companionably, until we reached the orchards.
There are pear trees and apple trees. The apples weren’t quite ready for picking yet, but the pears needed to come off.
I explained to Gilles what I’d learned in school about pears—that they must be picked early and chilled, and then given time at a warmer temperature for them to ripen evenly.
He asked why not simply allow the pear to remain on the tree, and I explained how it would make the fruit too soft at the center, sickly sweet or even rotted.
I showed him how the pears came off if I tipped the pear horizontally. We picked pears, making a game that we tossed the pears to the person closest to the basket. I found myself relaxing, even laughing.
Our fingers brushed when we reached for the same pear a few times.
We smiled at each other when we finished; before he reached for the basket, he reached out and brushed the hair that had escaped from my coiffure away from my face. His touch was tender, sweet.
It felt strange and welcome, all at once.
I do not know what to do, dearest.
Caterina closed the diary with a sigh. “I feel confident she’ll figure it out.”
By the time we were ready to leave, the day’s sunlight had already begun to fade. I returned to our room to find Neil at the desk, speaking on his cell phone. I brushed my teeth and straightened my hair before removing my coat and scarf from the armoire.
“Going to town,” I mouthed.
He held the phone away from his ear. “It’s Callan,” he said. “You’re leaving for town?”
“Caterina thinks she’s finding me a wedding dress.”
“Have fun,” he said, reaching out to caress my waist, albeit through the wool of my coat. We exchanged parting kisses, and I left, ready for an adventure.
As it turned out, just getting everyone into the van turned into an adventure. Sandrine joined us, and Sophie convinced her to drive. Letizia played copilot, while my sisters, niece, and I piled into the back of the Citroen.
We drove down the long, bumpy road to town; Sandrine parked the van at the edge of town, and we toppled out onto the cobblestones, laughing.
The streets were lit, the lights glowing against the soft twilight. We took care of Sandrine’s grocery needs first, returning those items to the van before exploring the chocolaterie. Sophie opened her handbag, telling everyone to pick out the confection of their choice, her treat.
Chloé, being savvy, negotiated for two.
We walked the streets, taking in the decorated shop windows.
Chloé rubbed her hands together. “I’m cold. How long are we going to stay?”
Sophie frowned at her daughter’s hands. “Where are your gloves?”
“I left them at home.”
“At your room, or at home home?”
“At our house,” Chloé clarified.
“Why didn’t you bring them? It’s winter here too,” Sophie exclaimed, her face distorted in exasperation.
I opened my mouth to make a suggestion when something caught my eye.
“Wait,” I said, stopping midstride.
Sophie, Chloé, Caterina, Letizia, and Sandrine clustered around me as I turned, pointing at the shop window.
“Oh,” Sandrine said. “This shop is new. I haven’t been in yet.”
I peered through the window. Beneath lights and displayed on a dress form was a hunter-green dress.
While the color was subdued, the style wasn’t. With its lace bodice, cap sleeves, and full tulle skirt, it made the perfect, festive holiday dress.
Holiday dress, or…
“You have to try it on,” Caterina said, taking my hand. “Are they open? They have to be open.”
Sandrine took the lead, stepping forward to try the door and, when that worked, ushering us inside. Once we were inside, she explained to the clerk in rapid-fire French that I wanted very much to try on the dress in the window.
Within minutes, I found myself in front of a three-way mirror, the other women looking on.
“It’s perfect,” Caterina breathed.
“The color suits you,” Sophie agreed.
“Très belle,” Sandrine said, fingering the tulle.
I turned to examine the back. It fit a little loose in the waist, nothing that a few stitches couldn’t fix. A row of green beads twinkled at the waist.
“The jacket,” I said, turning to my family. “I could wear Mireille’s jacket over this.”
Caterina covered her mouth. “That would be perfect. Oh, Etta—”
“You can keep looking,” Sophie said. “If you want to, we can go to one of the larger cities, find a bridal boutique.”
“I want to wear the jacket,” I said, realizing it to be true as I said it. “Well, I’d love to wear the dress, but it’s just too tiny. And matching the jacket to a white or ivory dress wouldn’t be easy. But this—” I nodded. “This is the dress.”
Sophie reached for her handbag. “Dad sent me with his card. He told me that if you found a dress, he wanted to buy it for you.”
“He what?”
“I think he meant to tell you himself, but he got distracted helping Auguste in the kitchen.” Sophie tilted her head. “They would have paid for your wedding, you know, Mom and Dad. And not because you couldn’t,” she said, holding up a hand before I could argue. “But because they wanted to.”
“And for heaven’s sake, they paid for mine and Sophie’s,” Caterina pointed out.
“I haven’t even looked at the price tag.”
Sophie shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
Caterina reached for the tag herself. “It’s marked down, sis. Consider it a sign.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “A sign? A sale is a sign?”
Sophie nodded toward the mirror. “Do you like it?”
I couldn’t help but look at myself again. “I do.” My gaze took in the movement of the fabric. “It swishes.”
“Two wedding dresses,” Caterina said, wrapping her arm around my shoulders before planting a sisterly kiss on my cheek. “Lucky duck.”
We drove back, singing along to the Christmas songs on Chloé’s iPod. At the chateau, Letizia insisted on making dinner along with her parents and Nonno. I found Neil with Nelson, Damian, and the boys, and stole him away until dinner.
I resumed the reading that evening.
/> Dearest Gabriel,
The staff has been dismissed, with the exception of Françoise and Marise, and Maman has taken to her rooms in despair. She fears she will receive guests only to be perceived as having come down in the world, as requiring economies.
You didn’t know my mother well, but surely you can imagine that this is all very trying for her.
Cécile and I are doing our best to keep up with the house, which largely means tidying up after the girls. And really, with Cécile expecting, she tries hard but must rest often. Cécile tells me that after being a bachelor for so long, Richard is quite adept at keeping his own things. Gilles is…less so. But I know he tries.
We left the girls with Marise and went, just the adults, to explore the secret passageways. Cécile and Richard flirted with each other; Gilles and I, of course, did not. He did keep his hand at the small of my back, though, which I admit felt nice considering the damp stone and occasional cobweb. I didn’t think I was claustrophobic, but after five minutes I began to wonder otherwise.
To Gilles’s delight, the passageway did, in fact, lead to the rooftop greenhouse. “It didn’t used to be a greenhouse, of course,” my father explained. “But my great-aunt had a wish to garden with a view.”
Tante Joséphine, who was there, of course, smirked and said that clearly great-aunts could never be trusted.
Maman wrung her hands over the idea of having to move her prize-winning roses, but agreed that the ability to maintain a food garden had merit.
Myself, I have enjoyed being able to dig in the dirt, and have mourned the imminent end of that season as the months have passed.
Even though winter comes, I’ll still have a bit of earth, and the thought brings me pleasure.
Dearest Gabriel,
Gilles kissed me today.
Chloé and Caterina squealed; Sophie shushed them.
We were in the kitchen; he had asked if I could teach him to make bread.
Now, more than ever, he has significant responsibilities, but he asked to bake with me that morning and I could not tell him no. Not when he’s building a false wall in the cellar to hide goods in, not when he’s falling into bed already asleep each night, having worked with the animals or tended seedlings in the greenhouse.
Together at the Table Page 26
