The Promise of Provence (Love in Provence Book 1)

by Patricia Sands

  Life is full of choices . . . live it well . . .

  Contemplating how she had connected in such a meaningful way with the strangers that befriended her on this trip, she kept trying to put it into perspective. Perhaps it doesn’t need to be. It simply was. Maybe Lucy will have an answer.

  There was one stop on Philippe’s list that Katherine had not managed to see yet, one that François had instructed she not miss.

  The medieval Gothic royal chapel, Sainte-Chapelle was across the bridge and a few blocks from her hotel. Gasping as she entered, she understood their insistence and why both men had used the word “jewel.” She immediately knew this was the highlight of all she had seen in Paris.

  Completed in 1248 for Louis IX, its soaring stained glass windows and vaulted ceiling gave an almost heavenly sense of weightlessness. The gemlike colors of the glass and the richly decorated walls left her enthralled as she sat quietly absorbing the effect of this small but magnificent treasure. In spite of desecration during the Revolution, it was amazing to read that two-thirds of the spectacular stained glass windows were original.

  At 8:30, she took her time walking through the narrow lanes of the Latin Quarter to Le Procope, which Joy and Mirella had recommended.

  Opened as a café in 1686, it had served as a gathering place for men (no women) of arts and letters for centuries beginning with Rousseau, Voltaire, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, and other luminaries of the time. During the Revolution, the Phrygian cap, soon to be the symbol of Liberty, was first displayed here, and the Cordeliers, Robespierre, Danton, and Marat were regulars.

  Refurbished in the late 1980s, the elegant setting oozed atmosphere. Luxuriously draped windows, sparkling chandeliers, and large oil portraits of the ancient writers, philosophers, and politicians created an air of important history.

  A foie gras entrée and traditional coq au vin main course were completed with a selection of some of the finest cheese she had ever sampled.

  A couple from Montreal at the next table chatted with her throughout the evening, providing good company and interesting conversation.

  Being alone is not such a bad thing. I can do this.

  The words of François rang in her ear.

  Tuesday morning, she had one plan left.

  After settling her bill, she left her luggage in a small room off the lobby. The Musée d’Orsay opened at 9:30, and after a quick taxi ride, Katherine was one of the first inside. She had an hour to make the most of it and so she did, heading straight for the Impressionist collection.

  Better than nothing. Another item checked off the list.

  By 11:00 a.m. she was in a taxi en route to Charles DeGaulle International Airport. There was no avoiding it now.

  28

  “Kat! You look fantastic! I can see this trip agreed with you as much as you were telling us!”

  “Andie, I’m so happy to see you!”

  “And I, you . . . I was afraid you might not come home!”

  The two rocked in a tight hug, laughing.

  “Everything was fine with the flight?” Andrea asked.

  “Couldn’t have been better!

  On the way home Katherine insisted that Andrea catch her up on all her family’s news before anything else.

  “Once I start talking about this trip, it’s going to be tough for you to get me to stop!”

  They chattered on for the rest of the afternoon, and Molly and then Lucy called to say welcome home. Katherine was going back to work the next day, and afterward Molly was going to pick up Swiss Chalet chicken and bring it over to Kat’s.

  In her usual fashion, Andrea brought dinner with her and left shortly thereafter so Katherine could fall into bed early.

  Very familiar with jet lag, she warned Kat, “You will probably be wide awake at four a.m., so be ready for it. Jet lag always seems worse coming this way, and you can expect it to last a week or so.”

  Saying good-bye with warm embraces, Katherine promised to spend a weekend in St. Jacobs soon. “I’ll either come this weekend or the next one,” she said. “Let me just get a handle with what’s going on here.”

  Checking her e-mails before she turned in, she was excited to see several exchange inquiries. Scotland, Germany, and Spain were offered. She knew her next exchange would be a year away, but it was such fun to consider the possibilities.

  She smiled to see an e-mail from Philippe saying he hoped she had arrived safely.

  Katherine’s return to work the next day meant no one accomplished anything for the first hour as they drank coffee and listened to her recount her adventure. At their insistence, she promised she would put together a slideshow to share with them.

  She had never before been so open at the office about details of any vacation, she realized. She also realized she was enjoying the experience.

  On the subway after work, Katherine felt a change to her outlook. Rather than anticipating being back at her job, she was relishing moments of her trip instead. She had noticed it in the morning too.

  She couldn’t recall a holiday in the past where she had not been very happy to be back to work when it was over.

  Setting the patio table for dinner, she mixed a pitcher of Bloody Caesars, keeping the vodka on the side. The evening was warm, there didn’t seem to be any mosquitoes taking over the garden, and she felt in the mood for a celebration. Molly could decide whether she wanted the alcohol or not.

  Katherine was looking forward to seeing her more than she could remember.

  Texting Molly to come around to the backyard when she arrived, Katherine busied herself refilling the bird feeders her father had built through the years.

  He had enjoyed the continuous parade of feathered visitors in every season. She smiled now as she recalled how he had even made peace with the pesky squirrels and found a way to keep them all happy.

  Simple pleasures are always best, he liked to say.

  “Plaisir,” she thought. This trip has impressed that in my mind like no other.

  Her calm was interrupted as Molly arrived in her usual flurry.

  “Katski! Welcome home! I’m so happy to see you!”

  Setting the takeout bags on the table, Molly wrapped her arms around Katherine and squeezed her tightly.

  “Sit down and tell me frickin’ everything, right this minute!”

  Laughing, Katherine opened the bags. “Let’s get this food out before it gets cold and then I’ll begin. What about a Caesar? Virgin or otherwise?”

  “Virgin will be just fine, thanks. I can’t tell the difference when there’s vodka in them anyway, so why waste it?”

  “Well, I’ll put your vodka in mine then,” joked Katherine. “I’m feeling like a party.”

  They clinked glasses, and Katherine took a bite of the roasted chicken. “Y’know, I ate so much amazing food while I was away, but it’s still good to come back to good old SC—yum!”

  “Okay, enough about the chicken. Let’s have the deets about the trip,” Molly urged.

  A smile spread slowly across Katherine’s face. “Moll, without exaggeration, it was truly life changing. I think I have fallen in love.”

  “What? You never said a word about meeting any hot guys!”

  The smile didn’t change as Katherine replied, “Nope. It isn’t about hot guys—you know that’s not remotely on my agenda—but I have fallen in love with what I saw of France.”

  “No kidding?” Molly asked in a more serious tone.

  “Truly. Madly. Deeply.”

  “Ho-o-o-ly shit,” Molly muttered, examining her friend’s face closely.

  “No shit,” laughed Katherine. “Remember how I’ve always told you I loved that country when I was there over thirty years ago?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Well, the feelings were even stronger this time. I can’t stop thinking about it. The farmhouse and property were like something out of a beautiful story. Every room breathed character and history. The property, the gardens—it was magic.”

/>   The conversation went on long into the evening, with Molly interrupting every so often to ask for more details. She listened raptly as Kat described her experiences with Joy and her family and Mirella and Philippe, but her greatest enthusiasm showed when Katherine told her about Picasso.

  “I can see that was a big part of your love affair. You should see the sparkle in your eyes.”

  “Well, here he is—gorgeous or what? Who would ever have guessed that a dog would become so important to me? I miss him!”

  With her laptop set up while they ate, they flipped through just enough photos to show what Kat was talking about.

  “Those are great shots. Wow! I get it. What a sweet-looking Lab. And that countryside, those villages. It’s a stunning part of the world, that’s for sure.”

  “I’ll get a proper slideshow organized and we’ll tuck in for an evening to watch it.”

  “I’ll bring the wine and cheese,” Molly offered.

  Katherine told her about François and how having to hurry to get help for him brought her back to biking. They laughed uproariously at some shots of the rusty Peugeot bike.

  “It looks like a crappy piece of junk,” Molly said, giggling.

  “Exactly! What a surprise it turned out to be. I’ll never ever forget that!”

  Then she went on to describe her mini-Mayle motor trip.

  Seeing a shot of Katherine, Hubert and Lucille, and Matt on their hike, Molly commented. “So who’s this dude? He isn’t bad-looking.”

  She was wide-eyed with shock as Katherine related her experience with him in the pool at Le Mas des Oliviers.

  “For Chrissakes, that’s a goddamn sexual assault—and could have been worse! You should have reported him!”

  “Honestly, I just wanted to get out of there and not see him. It would have been his word against mine. There were no witnesses, and you know, most of the time the woman is accused of asking for it. Nah, I didn’t want to put myself through that.”

  “Well, I’m sorry you had to experience that. What a frickin’ asshole he turned out to be.”

  “It still makes me twitch,” said Katherine. “It was something I never imagined having happen.”

  “Stupid prick,” agreed Molly. “What is it with some guys, anyway? And that’s strictly a rhetorical question—no answer required.”

  “Well, just to prove the opposite of that, here are some shots from the lunch that day I Skyped you from Joy’s manor house. Everyone here was charming, and none more so than Philippe.”

  “Oo-la-la, Kat, he looks like a sweetheart.”

  “And so he is,” Katherine agreed. “Intelligent, warm, and unbelievably considerate. Fun too!”

  “This is sounding good. So? Did any sparks fly?”

  “Moll, it simply wasn’t like that. He’s a widower who is very set with his life, but as a friend, he was a lovely part of my holiday. Kinda renewed my faith in men.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. You know I didn’t go there looking for anything but a change and a bit of an adventure that didn’t include anything like that. Besides, I’ll never see him again. He was just a super-nice guy and reminded me there are some out there. On the other hand, I barely got to know him.”

  “With a sexy French accent to boot? I would have seriously been thinking of jumping his bones, if I’d been you.”

  Katherine shook her head and laughed. “You crack me up, girl. You really do! Such a big talker!”

  Molly wanted to see more shots of Philippe, and Katherine was surprised at how many she had taken.

  “Holy crap, Kat, he’s so hot he’s making my feet sweat! Seriously, there’s a certain je ne sais frickin’ quoi about that guy!”

  Katherine insisted now that it was Molly’s turn to fill her in on everything.

  “First off, did the police find out anything about your Zipcar being keyed? Any clues?”

  Shaking her head, Molly explained that even though there were cameras in the parking lot—

  “Where aren’t there these days?” Katherine interrupted. “Sorry.”

  “Yeah, well. Nothing’s perfect. Those cameras are controlled by the security company hired by the school, and apparently there was some kind of malfunction that afternoon with the wiring or something, and the cameras were off for a while.”

  “Hmm, strange coincidence,” murmured Katherine.

  “Goddamn right it was strange!”

  The phone calls were still coming but not as often.

  “I’m spooked every time it happens, but I can’t stop hoping . . .”

  “Still nothing from Shawn?”

  Molly shook her head sadly.

  Katherine had noticed Molly check her phone a couple of times during the evening, but it turned out she was now addicted to Words with Friends.

  Even though Kat’s eyes were starting to close by nine o’clock, she convinced Molly to stay until ten. She was adding an hour to her bedtime each night for the rest of the week to work through her jet lag.

  Molly filled Kat in on what a delightful couple the Lalliberts were and how they had enjoyed their time in Toronto.

  “They loved the fact they could just walk up the street to the subway, and they couldn’t believe the selection of restaurants they could stroll to here in the Kingsway. The house is in great shape, right?”

  “Like no one had been here,” agreed Katherine. “They left me three bottles of fabulous wine from their vineyard. I can’t believe they packed that in their luggage. Thanks for helping me out with the exchange.”

  She handed Molly a package with gifts for her.

  “Merci beaucoup, mon amie!” Molly said with a grin as she unwrapped a bright tablecloth and napkins in the typical Provence blues, greens, and yellows, as well as some soap, a bottle of lavender honey, and an olive-wood cheeseboard.

  They laughed as Katherine described how she’d had to sit on her much heavier suitcase to close it for the trip home.

  “Thanks for all of your help, Molly. I really appreciate everything you did.”

  “No worries, Kat. It was my pleasure, and it’s such a blast to see how well this home-exchange concept works. If I ever live in a frickin’ decent apartment again, I may just give it a try.”

  That comment led to talk about Molly’s financial situation, which remained restricted.

  “Molly, I have to say, I’m so impressed with how you are handling this. You are budgeting and cutting back with such a positive attitude.”

  Molly shrugged. “Hey, it is what it is. I’m managing. And the more changes I make, the more I’m okay with the way my life is. I think I’ve always been a minimalist at heart.”

  As they parted, tentative plans were made for the weekend.

  29

  As Kat settled back into her old routines, the week passed quickly.

  Lucy organized her life so she and Katherine could have a quick bite after yoga, and there was no end to her questions. Katherine seemed to have been living her dream, she said.

  Lucy had consulted her astrological charts, and everything was aligned in Kat’s sphere. She assured her that the trip to France had been the right thing to do, based on her readings. Katherine knew Lucy truly believed the stars were in command.

  There was the usual catching up to do with her work: studies to read and assess, and her own papers to work on. Much of this, Kat was able to accomplish in the evenings at home.

  She mailed a card to the Lalliberts, expressing her appreciation of sharing their very special home and of course their even more special Picasso, for whom she slipped a packet of treats into the envelope.

  Thank-you notes were posted to Joy, her son, Henri, and his wife, Sylvie, as well as Mirella, François, and Philippe. The latter she had sent in care of Joy’s address, knowing it would be forwarded on. She did have Joy’s e-mail address as well as Philippe’s but felt it was more personal to handwrite her thanks.

  Every minute her mind was not consumed with other things, it was filled with thoughts a
nd images of France. She wondered how long it was going to take for the fantasies to fade.

  In the meantime, she had a good time responding to several more exchange inquiries. Norway, Wales, Costa Rica, and Dallas. The possibilities are endless, she thought as she began to consider what her trip next year would be.

  She planned to take Andrea and Terrence two of the bottles of wine the Lalliberts had left to thank them for pushing her into the whole idea of home exchange in the first place.

  On Saturday, Katherine lifted her bike off the rack in the garage. She had covered it with an old sheet when she moved it from the townhouse, and now—almost ceremoniously, she noted with a chuckle—she pulled that cover off.

  She knew her bike maintenance well, trained under her perfectionist ex-husband. After a wipe-down, along with a few drops of lubricating fluid, she placed the bike on a stand and turned the pedals to check the gears before she examined the brake pads and cables. Everything seemed to be in order. It was ready for the road, and so was she.

  Going to the basement, she retrieved the storage bin in which she had placed her biking clothes. Pulling on the skin-tight shorts and jersey, Katherine was pleased to see they fit better than ever in spite of her baguette, cheese, and wine diet. To say nothing of the fondants and crèmes brûlées, she giggled.

  Lying on top of the clothes was a piece of paper. Katherine recalled Andrea had sent it to her shortly after “la Katastrophe,” when Kat had announced she was never cycling again.

  It read, “When the spirits are low, when the day appears dark, when work becomes monotonous, when hope hardly seems worth having, just mount a bicycle and go out for a spin down the road, without thought on anything but the ride you are taking.” Written by Arthur Conan Doyle.

  Trust Andrea to find a quote that was so right, although she did not appreciate it at the time.

  Slipping her feet into the clip shoes and putting on her helmet, her anticipation mounted. The day was perfect for a ride, with no obvious breeze. Pleasantly surprised that she felt nothing but excitement, Katherine rode the few minutes over to the Old Mill, where she hooked up with the Humber River Trail. Pedaling leisurely down to the Martin Goodman Trail, just beyond Humber Bay, this popular paved bike and walking path along the lakeshore would take her right through the city and across to the Beach area on the east side. It was a route so familiar she felt she could ride it blindfolded, and she loved it every time.