I Promise You This (Love in Provence Book 3) (23 page)

“We slept together for weeks, taking Jean-Luc for long walks in the hills, making love in flower-filled meadows while our son napped in the shade. It was idyllic, truly a time of passion and romance.”

Kat and Philippe exchanged meaningful glances. Simone had transformed from a gracious lady of almost a hundred to a rapturous young woman living a passionate life through the images she was painting with her words. Her eyes radiated peace, and a luminous aura seemed to envelop her. Her lust for life, for her lover, for their son and the moments they all shared was palpable.

Simone had been sitting on the edge of the sofa as she told her story, but now she leaned back, almost collapsing into the cushions. For the first time, she appeared suddenly spent from her recollections.

Philippe moved to help her, but she waved him away. “
Rien, rien, c’est rien.
It’s nothing. I’m fine. . . . just so many memories.”

Katherine swallowed the lump in her throat. She did not want to cry.

Simone’s voice relaxed a little now, her ardor somewhat tempered. “We talked and talked and argued and finally reached a conclusion. Jean-Luc and I would go to Paris and live in my mother’s apartment. She was ailing at this point. Did you know most Parisians lived under near-starvation conditions during the Occupation? I had been wanting to help her, but there was still much to be done in the countryside . . . and I was with Gregoire. She had been shocked when I had told her I was with child, but gradually she accepted the reality, and I thought that Jean-Luc would bring some joy back to her heart—which he did.”

“Did Gregoire choose to leave his wife then?” Kat asked.

“I insisted I would only go to Paris if he remained with his family. But I ultimately agreed to be his lover. I wanted no one else. And so it was. And that was in 1949. Gregoire had many influential connections after the war, and he was a valuable person within the government. He sat on many committees and was consulted by top officials—all of which meant he often had to spend time in Paris. He made certain he did. My mother would look after Jean-Luc so I could slip away with Gregoire. Other times, we would have him with us. Gregoire loved him very much and doted on him. This simply became the fabric of our lives.”

“When did you come to Antibes? To this property?”

“Gregoire inherited the property when he was young, long before the war. He loved it but also had a house in the old town of Antibes. His wife preferred that house and disliked being on the Cap. When Jean-Luc was ten, Gregoire separated this section and deeded it to us. This house was a shepherd’s shelter originally, and he turned it into our love nest.”

Her eyes looked around the room momentarily. Katherine was almost embarrassed at the raw emotion of the story. Philippe’s gaze dropped to the floor.

“I continued to live in Paris but came here for holidays, and we were often included in the whole family’s social plans. Many people thought it was his way of thanking me for all I had done during the war, and some people kept that story alive. Others knew we were lovers.
C’est la vie.
”

Simone looked at Katherine with some concern. “Can you understand this?”

Katherine’s voice was soft when she responded. “Yes, I believe I do understand. It was a different time.”

She reached over and took Simone’s hand in hers.

The spell was broken, as Simone said, “
Eh bien
. I believe we could all use
un petit moment
, a little break. Let’s attend to the meal.”

She asked Katherine to go into the kitchen. “There’s a small bundle of potatoes wrapped in cheesecloth on the counter. Please put them in the stockpot simmering on the stove.
Merci
.”

“My mouth is watering, Simone,” Philippe expressed in a tone filled with nostalgia. “It smells like my mother’s
pot au feu
. Am I right?”

Simone nodded. “With a few alterations to accommodate this old body of mine, but the taste is the same.”

“Even the bone marrow?”

“Even that, if you will toast the
croûtes
.”

Kat came back into the salon, her eyes wide. “I was almost held captive by the tantalizing smells from that pot!”

“You are in for a treat, Kat!” Philippe exclaimed. “Truly a classic French meal!”

Simone added, “A classic,
oui
. But it was really a meal for poor families where everything would get thrown into the pot, which would simmer as it hung over the fire. The meat was usually so tough that it needed to cook for a long time. Sometimes my brothers would say the smell of it cooking was even better than the eating of it!”

She tapped her wrist as if to indicate a watch, which they knew she never wore. “We have twenty minutes for the potatoes to cook. Let’s continue this saga.”

Philippe picked up the story. “Grandpère started taking me to Paris with him when I was five. Jean-Luc was twenty-three and in medical school at that point. He would take time from his studies to take me to parks and museums—and glorious ice cream from Berthillon! He began my education of Paris and culture, and that continued for stimulating and memorable years until I was fifteen. My father disliked city life, so he was pleased for me to have that time with his father—little did he know Jean-Luc was my mentor.”

Simone broke in, “And that gave Gregoire and me time alone. My mother had long since passed away.”

For a moment Kat felt overwhelmed with the reminder that the love and experiences older people have lived was often discounted. Her thoughts went to her parents, whose love story was equally powerful in its own way.

Philippe added, “Jean-Luc and Grandpère were very close. I do remember that.”

“Yes. That was such a joy to me. They loved each other very much. Jean-Luc somehow grew up understanding the situation and making the best of it. Gregoire was his hero. He put our son through medical school.”

“I never forgot your
madeleines
, Simone, or your beauty.”

“You are making this old woman blush,” she scolded gently.

Philippe smiled. “
Avec plaisir
. Though I never suspected you were anyone other than a good friend. Grandpére spoke of you with such respect.”

“Gregoire claimed my
madeleines
were exceptional. They were the first things he wanted to eat when we were together, no matter what time of day! Do you know, he also gave me my first
âne
and named it Victor Hugo. He thought I needed a pet here, and he just arrived with it one day. Imagine!”

They all laughed at the visual, understanding now why the tradition of keeping a donkey was so important to Simone.

She continued, “We somehow managed to celebrate only the positive in our time together, and we lived with no regrets. That is something war teaches you. We appreciated each moment of life we shared. There was much laughter in our time together.”

“And then he died,” Philippe said sorrowfully.

“He died in my garden of a heart attack. It was a peaceful end for him. We had spent a few days together. As I said, your
grandmère
did not like their Cap property and preferred to stay in their house in town. We were lying under the cherry tree . . .”

With that she stood and ran her fingers along the fireplace mantle over the set of initials carved into it. “He simply looked at me, smiled, and passed. Just like that. He was seventy-five and not sick a day.”

Katherine was astounded at how Simone’s face glowed with love instead of becoming distorted with the pain of loss. She sat in awe of her graciousness.

“And then the bickering began,” Philippe muttered. “That’s why the property sat neglected for twenty-five years.”

Simone shook her head in disgust. “It was ridiculous.”

With a wave of her hand, she motioned they should follow her to the kitchen. “This is a good time to pause in our storytelling and enjoy our lunch. Let us savor the love story before we explain the debacle. Now we will have the pleasure of a hearty meal and talk of other things.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Simone led the way and asked Kat to dress the green salad with olive oil and lemon. Philippe was instructed to transfer the meat and vegetables from the stockpot to a large serving platter.

Simone then removed a clove-studded onion from the pot. Philippe followed her instructions to pour the broth through a sieve into another warm pot. As she stirred the broth, Philippe removed the marrow from the bones.

“You have done this before,” Simone commented.

“This was my assignment in my mother’s kitchen,” he replied with a grin, then asked Katherine to slice the baguette.

Soon everything was placed on the dining table, already set with a typical blue-and-yellow Provençal tablecloth, cutlery, and a bowl of fresh fruit. Simone beamed with pleasure as they exclaimed rapturously over the meal. “This feels like family,” she responded.

“Simone, you went to so much trouble with this delicious meal,” Kat complimented her.

“
Ma chérie
, this is the kind of French cooking that looks complicated but really is so simple. I will show you one day, if you like. Monsieur Beau
le boucher
is most helpful, as he delivers the meat already tied in bundles—the most fiddly part.”

“I have a long list of cooking questions already,” Kat told them as she served a mouth-watering blend of potato, carrot, onion, and meat onto each plate.

“Guard those questions well,
chérie
, and we will prepare some meals together since you are back. Now let’s talk about today and your plans. Happy topics only, please!”

Philippe filled each wineglass with a vintage Saint-Émilion he had brought along for the occasion. “I have saved these two bottles for years and never knew why. Now I believe it was for this auspicious
rendezvous
.”

They wished each other
bon appétit.
Simone’s eyes glistened.

Throughout all of their emotional conversation, Katherine had completely forgotten the exciting news about their expanded family. She gave Philippe a small prompt to announce the news, but he insisted it was hers to share.

“
Deux chiots?
Two puppies? What fun! You must bring them to visit as soon as you can!” Simone was delighted.

They talked about the work that lay ahead in training the pups. “We had planned to wait until we were living at the villa,” Philippe told Simone, “but they were irresistible, those little chocolate bundles of joy.”

Katherine giggled, “And we haven’t come up with names. We’re wracking our brains! Any ideas?”

Simone beamed at them both, shaking her head. “What lively times for you. I’m so happy to be sharing all this with you.”

Katherine turned to Philippe. “Explain what’s happening with the villa because I’m certain”—and now she nodded to Simone—“you must have heard a lot of noise next door over the past two weeks.”

Simone clapped her hands. “What a joy to hear life there again, even if it did involve a certain amount of banging and crashing and a parade of trash bins!”

Philippe spoke of their meeting with Didier. “He had no trouble putting together his
équipe
, as I know Kat already explained. Jobs are scarce along the coast right now, so these guys are happy to have the work. His cousin, Auguste, has just arrived from Calais to help as well. He is the largest man I have ever seen. Didier says he can lift things that normally require machinery!”

Katherine added, “He’s like a gentle giant from a fairy tale. Truly, Simone, you’d instantly love him. He’s always whistling as he works and has a contagious laugh. Some of the other workers arrive in rather dour moods, and he has them joking in no time. So far it’s a pleasure to drop by, and they seem to be making reasonable progress.”

Philippe agreed, with a word of caution. “It’s early days, though. This first part has been more about clearing fallen beams and crumbling walls and putting up supports. The more complicated part comes next, and we will see how long their good humor lasts!”

The meal finished with Simone’s ambrosial
crème brûlée
. The crisp scorched shell shattered perfectly to mix with the rich smooth custard below. A hint of vanilla brought murmurs of delight from Kat and Philippe. Simone smiled contentedly, saying she never varied from her family’s centuries-old recipe.

They returned to the comfort of the salon to continue the story. Katherine could hardly contain her curiosity.

Simone said, “Now that we have given you the history, we pick up from this point. Gregoire was indeed the father of our son Jean-Luc.”

Katherine looked at Philippe. He nodded and added, “So Jean-Luc was in fact my uncle. We could also say that Simone is my
grandmère 
. . .”

“By association . . .” Simone clarified, her eyes dancing with affection.

“By any means is an honor,” Philippe replied.

“But I made Gregoire promise we would not make this public,” Simone explained. “I did not want his sons to know, and we were able to keep the secret. As a youngster, Jean-Luc always believed that his father had been a lover of mine who died before he was born. As an adult, he figured it out and agreed it was our secret.”

Katherine and Philippe empathized how difficult it must have been for Simone and Gregoire to keep that secret forever. Simone’s expression clearly signaled the answer.

Philippe explained how his father had always told him that he and his brothers had divided themselves into two distinct factions in childhood. The twins had been spoiled by their mother and never forgave Gregoire for his absence in their lives. “For no good reason, they felt that he had more of a relationship with the two younger boys and held that against them. Sadly, the fractious behavior continued into adulthood, and when Gregoire passed away, the fight began over the property. My father was already deceased, but they did not want to share with Oncle François. They were so belligerent that they preferred the land to sit abandoned all those years.”

Katherine shook her head. “What a shame. How crazy was that?”

Simone explained, “The history of France is filled with such family feuds. People simply dig in their heels no matter how ridiculous, and some of our archaic laws support that behavior.”

Philippe continued, “It wasn’t until Guy and Gaston both passed away—they were never uncles to me—within two years of each other that Oncle François became the owner. He then had to go through years and piles of paperwork to turn the property over to me. That was eight years ago. And then my late wife, Viv, died—and that’s the story.”

Seeing Simone slowly getting up, Philippe extended his hand to her. She walked over to a wall on one side of the salon and pressed the middle of a painting hanging on the wall; two panels of the wall slid open. They blended so well that Katherine had never noticed them before.

The open panels revealed a good-size hidden room, lined floor to ceiling on three sides with book-filled shelves. Daylight flooded in through a skylight. In the middle of the space sat an ornate French writing desk and chair. She picked up an envelope and returned to the salon. The panels slid silently closed behind her.

With a cocky grin, she walked back to the sofa. “More surprises.”

Katherine and Philippe were speechless.

She held out an envelope with Philippe’s name written on the front. “Here is a copy of a letter I have sent to my lawyer adjusting my will. This property will one day belong to you, Philippe, to do with as you please. And I hope that means it will belong to Katherine too, in time. I cannot adequately express what pleasure this brings to me.”

“Simone, this is not necessary,” Philippe protested. “It’s very generous of you, but there’s no need.”

“You don’t understand. This is the act of a selfish woman. I am doing this for me. Until you both came into my life . . . Katherine, you as a bright new spirit to bring joy to my days, and Philippe, you as someone who has returned from the past with the promise of renewal for Gregoire’s property—I despaired of anyone loving this house and gardens again. In fact, I intended to leave it to charity to be used as a retreat, never to be sold for private occupation. I was afraid of a developer eventually getting his hands on it. I couldn’t bear that thought. You have made my dream come true.”