Promises to Keep Read online

  Philippe pulled her into his embrace. He was aware of a hesitation from Kat from time to time, and he sensed she was still protecting her heart, whether she realized it or not.

  He kissed away the few tears that slipped down her cheeks, before their lips came together for a long, slow kiss.

  When they finally put some space between them, Philippe slipped the bracelet from Katherine’s hand. “Regarde. I even managed to find cheese for you here.”

  Kat laughed as he showed her a golden wedge-shaped charm. “What do you think? A Brie, perhaps? And this Eiffel Tower is for, well, France. And this heart is because you have mine forever.”

  Feeling like her own heart would burst, she held out her wrist for him to clasp the bracelet around. Then she carefully zipped his note into a pocket on her shirt.

  “Merci, mon amour. Je l’adore . . . et je t’adore.”

  They did not linger over lunch and were soon cycling home with one thing on their minds. The language of their desire required no translation.

  7

  The next morning, the ring of Philippe’s cell phone jolted them both out of deep sleep at 5:17 a.m.

  Philippe listened for a moment then spoke briefly into the phone, his voice filled with alarm. He leapt out of bed.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked as he began pulling on his clothes.

  “That was Gilles. Our storage unit is on fire.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “Oui, grâce à Dieu! He went early to meet a delivery and when he opened the door, a small explosion knocked him off his feet and started a fire.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “Let me dash now, and I’ll call to let you know what’s going on. Gilles said everything is under control. The firefighters are there, and Mercier is waiting to talk to us. Looks like we’ll lose quite a bit of product.”

  Mercier was the local chief of police and was always called by just his last name. Philippe had described him as someone everyone trod lightly around but whose word was his bond. At least, Philippe hoped it was.

  “This is crazy,” he said as he headed out the door.

  The market was buzzing with speculation when Kat joined Philippe and Gilles later.

  Coffee, baguette sandwiches, and pastries had been arriving at their stand all morning as they were visited by everyone they knew—and seemingly by every employee from the local constabulary, the fire department, and the mayor’s office.

  “An event like this involves the entire community,” Philippe explained. “Everyone takes it personally—”

  “And has their own theory,” Gilles interrupted.

  Gilles appeared quite relaxed about the incident now that the shock had passed. “I think it was a short in the wiring of the new security system for the whole bank of storage units. It was just my misfortune to get knocked over by it.”

  Philippe did not look convinced. “That’s what the police and firefighters are saying, but some expert is coming tomorrow from Nice to investigate.”

  “The insurance will cover the losses,” Gilles added. “Except nothing can cover the fine Mont d’Or that was delivered last week. We will have to wait another year for a perfectly aged supply of that.”

  The two men seemed more crestfallen at this prospect than at anything else. Had the rest of the incident not been so serious, Kat would have smiled.

  They spent the remainder of the day sorting out the salvageable cheeses. Émile, the olive vendor, had an extra unit with refrigeration that was almost empty and immediately insisted they use it. With all the help they were offered, they got most things in order by late afternoon. Philippe even found time to fill out a mountain of insurance forms, a pile of paper that was typical of the French bureaucracy. After the market closed, everyone gathered at the local family-run Italian restaurant, which the owners closed to the public for a long and loud meal, where the wine flowed freely.

  Philippe spent the next day meeting with more investigators and insurance representatives, and he, Kat, and Gilles continued the cleanup. As news of the incident spread to his suppliers, many of them went out of their way to bring more product to him and stay for a supportive drink from an endless supply of rosé. The incident was the headline news in the local paper.

  Philippe and Kat had planned a weekend in Sainte-Mathilde to visit their friend Joy Lallibert and her family. Joy, originally from England, had helped Kat so much during her first home exchange earlier that year and had been responsible for her introduction to Philippe. The weekend would continue Kat’s birthday celebration. After much debate, they decided to stick to their plan and go, in spite of everything.

  “There’s nothing more to be done anyway. Gilles’s father is a builder, and the two of them will begin to fix the damage this morning. With what we moved into Émile’s storage space and the new deliveries that arrived yesterday, Gilles will be able to keep the stall open all weekend.”

  “Business as usual?” Kat asked.

  “With a slightly reduced inventory.”

  Joy had called Philippe’s cell yesterday after she heard about the explosion to make sure the two of them were all right.

  “News travels fast in these parts,” Joy explained. “We are all very upset and hope that electrical problem will be fixed. It’s a good thing the entire bank of storage units did not go up in smoke. I tried Philippe’s phone several times, but it just went to voicemail.”

  Katherine gave her a detailed description of everything that was happening and assured her they were still coming for a visit.

  “Merveilleux! It will be good for you both to get away from that commotion.”

  Now Kat said to Philippe, “The change of scene will do us both good, and I’m so looking forward to seeing everyone—including Pico, of course.”

  “I think the Lallibert’s dog fell in love with you just like I did,” Philippe quipped.

  A smile lit up Kat’s face. “Who knew that a soppy yellow Lab would find his way into my heart so completely?”

  Kat’s excitement mounted as soon as she recognized the countryside near Sainte-Mathilde. The drive of just over two hours always pleased her. After leaving the coast and the rugged red rocks of the Massif de l’Esterel, the countryside changed dramatically. Vineyards, orchards, olive groves, and fields stretched toward a backdrop of rolling hills. Perched villages came and went from view as the road twisted and turned. The vibrant autumn shades she recalled from their last visit for the grape harvest were muted as colder weather set in. Leaves had fallen and fields were plowed into mounded rows. The gnarled stumps of the cutback vines offered a stark beauty against the bright-blue sky and signaled the promise of the next year’s bounty. Evergreen oaks, olive trees, and cedars provided a backdrop of multihued greens.

  Kat was eager to be back in the company of the people who had made her feel so welcome in June. She had come to know them so well.

  Philippe phoned as soon as they turned off the main road, and when they arrived at the courtyard of the manoir, everyone was outside to deliver a boisterous welcome.

  Joy; her daughter, Marie, and her son-in-law, Christian; her brother- and sister-in-law, Jean-Pierre and Madeleine Lallibert; Philippe’s Oncle François; even the housekeeper/cooks Antoine and Hélène in their starched white aprons, were all there, as was, of course, Picasso, who bounded toward the car.

  “Pico, Pico!” Katherine cried, kneeling to rub her face against the excited dog and wrapping her arms around his neck. The feel of his soft golden hair gave her goose bumps. She loved the exuberant Lab and, for a moment, was overwhelmed by the bond she had forged with him months earlier. She held a thought before letting him go, although he did not leave her side: You taught me so much in a very short time, mon ami.

  “I think his tail might just wag right off,” Joy said as Kat stood to greet everyone, and they all laughed.

  “We thoug
ht you were leaving us, ma chère. We are so excited and happy for you and Philippe to be together.”

  Joy offered apologies for the absence of her son, Henri, and his wife, Sylvie, who were hiking in Corsica. “Mirella sends their regrets as she and Marc are in Paris. She wanted you to know they share our happiness and look forward to seeing you at Christmas,” she said, referring to her closest friends.

  If I’m still here, Kat thought ruefully.

  Joy led the way to the sprawling terrace behind the manoir, where champagne was served, with foie gras spread on small toasts plus a selection of olives, and lively chatter filled the air.

  Kat was embarrassed when she saw the bowls of olives. Joy grinned and touched her arm. “Philippe told me the story and that they were your new passion, so I could not resist.”

  The conversation turned serious when the topic of a local political situation came up. Philippe and Joy translated as needed and, in true Gallic fashion, the discussion ended in laughter as they made hilarious remarks about the people involved.

  “The French always seems to find the humor in their politics, no matter what. It’s a saving grace,” Joy whispered to Kat.

  Just then, Hélène appeared on the terrace to announce the meal was ready. A cool nip in the Provençal air prevented their dining al fresco, and lunch was served in the massive banquet hall at a long table close to the fireplace. They shut the French doors to the terrace tightly behind them.

  “It’s our first daube de sanglier of the season. Just for you,” Hélène whispered, her pride evident as she set Kat’s plate down.

  Philippe discreetly leaned over and murmured, “Wild boar. Don’t worry, it will be delicious.”

  The aromas of garlic and red wine floating up from her plate left Kat no doubt he was right.

  “Christian and a party from the village were hunting last week, and this was his quarry,” Marie told Kat with evident pride.

  The conversation turned to that expedition, with talk about the meal—which was part of the hunt tradition—they had eaten at midday at a small country inn.

  “It always comes back to the food and wine, doesn’t it?” Kat remarked to Joy, who simply smiled and nodded.

  Conversation and laughter flew around the table. Oncle François’s face was filled with happiness during the extended lunch, but he did not say much. Katherine looked forward to spending some quiet time with him. She was very fond of him and remembered her surprise when she had learned that this apparently simple goat herder was also a wealthy businessman. It had been a good lesson in not making snap judgments about people.

  Kat was pleased with how well she could now follow the conversation and even participate in French. But there were still moments when one small error on her part brought it to a halt while everyone, laughing gently in support, tried to work out precisely what it was she meant. Kat laughed along with the rest. She had learned that having her mistakes corrected was an excellent way to learn the language.

  At the end of the meal, coffee and a warm tarte aux pommes were served in the cozy salon.

  François sat down by the roaring fire and, after catching Kat’s attention, patted the chair next to him. She felt quite emotional as she bent to bise him. He took her hand, his lips lightly brushing its back. She was so fond of this kind, gentle man. He had changed her life in Paris in June with his advice that no one should hold back from deciding among the choices our short lives offer us.

  “Eh bien, my beautiful Katherine, tell me all your joys. I believe my nephew is passionately in love with you, and if you love him the same way, you are making this old man très heureux.”

  Kat blushed, and François, smiling, lightly waved his trembling hand. They spoke quietly for some time until Joy joined them to say that a walk through the vineyard was being organized.

  “Allez, ma chère. It’s a fine day for a walk, and time for my nap. We will see each other later.”

  Philippe joined them to tell Kat he would drive François home while she joined the others for the walk. “I’ll stay with him for a while and see if there is anything I can do before I come back. He’s doing well, but he’s still a bit fragile, as you can see.”

  He kissed her forehead. “I can see how happy you are to be back here.”

  She nodded, “It feels good—like family.”

  Katherine ran up to her room to change into her walking shoes. She was thankful for the heavy sweater she had purchased earlier in the week, and hoped the box of warm clothes would soon arrive that she had asked Molly to send. Joy had let her know in advance that a walk would probably be on the agenda, saying, “We take advantage of these cool autumn days before rain and mistral arrive. In the summer, it’s often too hot or everyone is busy with something else. It will be perfect weather for a good hike when we are all together.”

  They set off at a brisk pace, walking through the vineyard and along a well-trodden path in the forest beyond.

  Picasso led the way with enthusiasm whenever he wasn’t over to the side investigating some intriguing scent.

  Kat remarked to Joy that the landscape seemed calm compared to her previous visit, when everyone had been harvesting grapes and all the roads, big and small, had been buzzing with tractors and trucks delivering the crop to the wine co-ops.

  “It is quieter here now, oui, but that doesn’t mean the land is not busy,” Joy said. “Olive harvesting begins soon, and we all pitch in again, shaking the trees and raking the fruit that escape the nets. You will notice the nets we’ve placed under the trees when you drive back tomorrow, although some people still hang a basket around their necks and use ladders to pick the olives. Also, le ban des truffes, the truffle proclamation, will be announced in Richerenches next week, and that’s the start of truffle season. You must come with us to truffles market one weekend. It’s such fun!”

  Kat smiled. “There’s still so much for me to learn about life here. I love all this, as you know.”

  “I’m glad you continue to find our lifestyle and traditions so pleasing. Who would have imagined you would trade your Canadian life for one here?”

  “I still can’t quite believe it, but every day the choices I have and the decisions I need to make are becoming clearer to me. It’s scary in one way and thrilling in another.”

  “Life is all about choice, n’est-ce pas? I made a similar decision some sixty years ago when I left England and have never regretted my life in France. Sartre said, ‘We are the choices we make.’ I like that.”

  Katherine nodded and lapsed into silence. This past year had certainly opened up unimagined opportunities for choice.

  After a few moments, Joy slowed their pace and in a quieter voice asked, “Has Philippe talked much about Geneviève’s last years? Her illness? Her mother?”

  Kat was surprised. She wasn’t sure to what Joy was alluding. Even so, she felt uncomfortable.

  “He mentioned there was something that he had to tell me,” she said, searching Joy’s face for a clue to what was meant.

  Joy paused for a moment, deep in thought. “Attends, ma chère, all in good time. Don’t worry, he will. I won’t say more right now, but we will talk once he has told you. I will be waiting for you to call me. Just know that.”

  Her look indicated that this was the end of that topic, and they hurried to catch up with the others. As they neared them, Joy put her arm around Kat. “I didn’t mean to alarm you,” she whispered. “There are things you need to know, c’est tout, and Philippe will tell you before long, trust me. Trust him.”

  Swallowing hard, Kat tried to set aside the anxiety that had bolted up in her. She told herself that it was still early days and they still had much to learn about each other. If Joy knew about the problem, it couldn’t be that bad, could it?

  Soon they were all chatting about local events and explaining to Kat some of the finer points of the truffle harvest. Everyone h
ad a tale to tell. Kat tried her best to pay attention and to get past Joy’s perplexing words.

  The path the group followed through the woods eventually led to a gently rolling hillside that was an endless patchwork of olive groves and fields. There was still green to be seen, but dried leaves crunched beneath their feet as they walked, evidence that the season was changing yet again.

  Closing her eyes and breathing in deeply, Katherine caught the smell of wood smoke in the air. It was intoxicating. When she looked about her, she could see, here and there, trails of smoke floating skyward. It brought back memories of bonfires as a child, at her uncle’s farm, and she told the others some stories about the countryside around St. Jacob’s as they walked onward. They were all intrigued to learn a bit about Katherine’s early life in Canada, and she felt a few tugs to her heart as she talked about that happy time.

  Soon, over an hour had passed, and they were walking past François’s goatherd next to the Lallibert’s farmhouse.

  “I have such good memories of my exchange here,” Katherine sighed, zipping up her jacket as the afternoon had begun to cool down quickly.

  “That was the beginning of this French adventure for you,” Joy said. Jean-Pierre and Madeleine beamed at their small part in bringing Katherine to this point in her life. They said their good-byes and laughed at Picasso’s momentary confusion over whether to stay or keep going. When Katherine and Joy resumed walking, he bounded over to join them.

  As they neared the manoir, they could see Philippe sitting on a bench in the courtyard, catching the last rays of sunshine.

  “Eh bien, just in time for an apéritif.”

  The three of them spent the evening lingering over dinner, immersed in quiet conversation. Kat found herself watching Joy and Philippe interacting and wondered what secret it was that they shared. Was it her imagination, or was there really an edge to their attempts to appear relaxed? There were moments when she was certain they seemed ill at ease. She had also noticed them earlier, off to one side, talking. Still she wondered if she was reading more into the unknown than was necessary.