At the Chateau for Christmas

She would have preferred to stay at a hotel. It would have been the wisest thing to do, but clearly Nic had wanted to warn her not to hurt his grandfather before she met him. Maurice nodded. “Of course. Did Nic give you those pictures?”

“Yes. I love them.” Laura’s mother had refused to look at them.

“Good. I took those during our many walks. We must have logged hundreds of miles throughout our marriage, exploring the countryside. She was a walker.”

So was Laura.

The emotions Maurice evoked were choking her. “Nic told me you were very happy.”

“We were soul mates. I adored her.” His tears ran freely. “Up until the time she came down with pneumonia, we loved getting out every day together. No man could have been blessed with a better, more loving wife. I’m utterly lost without her.”

Touched to the core by the sincerity of his love for Irene, Laura stirred restlessly. “How long was she ill?”

“Two months. She caught a cold. It developed into a secondary infection and before we knew it, she had pneumonia. Two weeks in the hospital on a regimen of strong antibiotics and the doctor was certain she would rally, thus the reason you weren’t notified. But overnight she took a sudden, cruel turn for the worse and left this world quickly with one wish...that you and your family would know how terribly you were all loved.”

Unable to prevent the tears, Laura got up from the couch and walked over to the French doors, too heartbroken to listen to any more tonight. Nic’s words kept running through her mind: That story is so wrong and twisted, it’ll tear my grandfather apart when he hears it.

After listening to Maurice’s outpouring of love, she understood why Nic had asked her not to destroy this man while he was in mourning. This was no act, on Maurice’s part or Nic’s. She doubted she would ever repeat her version to his grandfather. There’d been enough suffering. Laura had lived an abnormal existence for years because of it. The bitterness in her household had tainted her life. She wanted no more of it.

“We’ll get together tomorrow, Gran’père.”

At the sound of Nic’s voice, Laura turned toward them. “Thank you for everything you’ve done, Mr. Valfort.”

“Call me Maurice.”

“All right then. Maurice it is.” Moisture blurred her vision. “Thank you for sending Nic with my grandmother’s body and arranging with the mortuary. In light of the history plaguing our families, it was a wonderful, noble thing to do. I’m indebted to both of you.” Her voice caught.

His features sobered, showing his full years for the moment. “I must confess it was hard letting her body go.” He broke down once more, clearly overcome with grief. “But I can always depend on my grandson to help me.”

Her throat swelled, making it almost impossible to articulate. “He was very gracious.” In light of the way she’d treated him, Nic was a saint. “Two days ago the family held a graveside service for her. She was buried in the family plot.”

“Just as it should have been.” The tears in his tone tore her apart. “But in return, you’re here. I thank God you came.” His voice shook. “How she prayed for this day.”

Laura felt the same way. “I wanted to meet you,” she assured him in all honesty, but she just hadn’t expected this feeling that he and her grandmother had been wronged in some tragic way. “She had to have loved you beyond anything.”

“Not beyond anything,” he contradicted her. “A day didn’t go by that your name wasn’t mentioned. She longed for her little granddaughter.”

Laura couldn’t take much more. Neither could Maurice, apparently. Nic put a comforting hand on his grandfather’s heaving shoulder. “I’ll walk you out.”

She watched them go, but he didn’t leave her long. When Nic returned, his middle-aged housekeeper was with him.

“I did that flight a week ago and it wiped me out. Arlette will bring you a light supper. Sleep as long as you want and we’ll talk more in the morning.”

“Thank you, but I don’t think I could fall asleep yet. I need to relax. If you don’t mind, I’ll call for a taxi to drive me into Nice.” His head swerved in her direction. “I want to go down to the waterfront and soak in the atmosphere for a while. It will help me get a feel for the place where she lived all these years.”

His chest rose and fell visibly. “Your grandmother used to walk along the Promenade des Anglais with Maurice at night. They’d stop to listen to music from the mid-’60s at a local brasserie. The place features chanteurs who sing the songs Brel and Aznavour made famous.” He rubbed the back of his neck absently. “I’m wide-awake myself and will be happy to drive you.”

“No, no. You’ve done enough. I won’t stay out long. I’m used to being out at night in San Francisco. A half hour is all I crave.”

His eyes narrowed on her features. “Are you refusing me because you can’t forgive me for insinuating something about you that is patently untrue?”

No. She was refusing because he was a married man. But if she said that to him, he’d think she was a very unsophisticated, silly woman instead of an executive at Holden who did business with married men all the time.

“If I accept, are you going to accuse me of deciding to leave the villa so you’ll feel obliged to take me?”

A half smile escaped Nic. “Maybe I’m using you so I can enjoy a little diversion before I call it a night.”

His wife had to have an awfully good reason to be away. If Laura were his wife...but she had to stop her thoughts right there. “Then I won’t say no to your chivalry.”

“I never expected to hear that particular word fall from your lips.”

Her brows lifted. “I never expected you would willingly accompany me anywhere.”

His chuckle followed her down the hall as she went to the bedroom for a sweater. He waited for her in the foyer and they walked out to his car.

Laura couldn’t believe it, but they actually rode in companionable silence to the famous beachfront. Laura loved seeing the Promenade des Anglais, with its Italianate buildings, as portrayed in the many paintings of Nice. It ran parallel to the water. There was a magical feel about it.

He found a parking spot on a side street and they walked about a block and a half to the Oiseau Jaune. She could hear the music on their approach.

By some miracle Nic found them an empty bistro table among the crowd on the walkway and signaled a waiter. He ordered them mint tea.

Laura sat back, soaking up the authentic French atmosphere. “When I was in the Tetons of Wyoming last year, I went to a French restaurant in the mountains where they featured a singer who sounded like Charles Aznavour. This singer reminds me of him. I didn’t understand the words, but I loved it. I have to admit, there’s no place on earth like this. I can’t believe I’m here.”

“My grandfather can’t believe you’ve come, either. I doubt he’ll sleep until he sees you again tomorrow.”

She fought tears. “To think I’ve missed this by staying away the whole time.”

He angled a glance at her. “You were a victim of circumstances. That’s what we’ve all been.”

Laura took a deep breath. “I appreciate you bringing to this particular brasserie. For as long as I can remember, I’ve adored the sound and feel of this kind of music. You know, an accordion, a violin. Maybe a clarinet. It’s so French. There’s something about the tunes in your language that bypass conscious thought and find the romantic in you. But I do wish I knew French to get the full effect.”

“You’re Irene’s granddaughter, all right. She had romance in her soul, too, and loved this place.”

“That’s nice to hear.”

“I’ll translate for you.”

She glanced at him. “Please. I’d love to know what he’s saying.”

Nic’s eyes were veiled. “‘Let’s dance the old-fashioned way, my love. I want you to stay in my arms, skin against skin. Let me feel your heart, don’t let any air in. Come close where you belong. Let’s hear our secret song and dance in the old-fashioned way. Won’t you stay in my arms? We’ll discover higher highs we never knew before, if we just close our eyes and dance around the floor. It makes me love you more.’”

Oh...oh... Trembling, Laura looked away, spellbound by the words, by the way he said them, by his Gallic male beauty. She’d never known such a moment, such a night.

After twenty minutes the singer took a break. Laura smiled at Nic. “This was wonderful.” Her voice shook. “I feel I’m really in France now and think I can sleep. How about you?”

“You’ve given me a new appreciation for one of my country’s greatest assets. If your San Francisco legs are ready, I’ll take you on a walk up to Castle Hill before going home. We won’t go up all the way, but there’s a wonderful view of Port Lympia to the east that’s quite magical this time of night.”

“Tell me about this place,” she murmured. Anything to hear his deep voice speak English with that wonderful French accent.

“Castle Hill juts out a bit, like the Acropolis in Athens, but much greener, of course. It was named for a fortified castle and was redeveloped by King Charles-Felix of Savoy in the 1830s because of its amazing view. He added a landscaped park and an artificial waterfall.”

Laura decided she’d been whisked away to a different universe as they climbed a ways above Nice. The music and the words had seeped into her bloodstream, where they would stay. To be out walking in such spectacular surroundings with this man was her idea of heaven.

She looked out at the sea. The romantic night called to her. Maurice had said he and her grandmother had walked hundreds of miles together. Now that she was in the South of France, she longed to see its wonders and clear her head. To see it with Nic left her breathless.

Eventually they returned to his car, but inside she rebelled that any of this had to end.

Wrapped in the beauty of the night, she closed her eyes and rested her head against the window during the drive back to the villa. Laura couldn’t relate to the woman who’d flown to Nice earlier.

A change had come over her. Nothing was as she’d thought. Everything was different. The lines weren’t clear anymore. She was terrified of what was happening to her.

* * *

The next day Nic was sitting at the dining room table reading the newspaper without absorbing any of it. He was troubled that he’d offered to drive Laura down to the waterfront last night. What had possessed him to take her walking afterward?

He couldn’t understand himself. His family would never understand. If any of them had seen him with another woman while he was still waiting for word about his wife, it would shock them in a cruel way. But to know he’d been with the enemy when they didn’t know she’d even come to France...

Ciel. What was wrong with him? Why had he done it?

Nic put down his coffee, crushed by guilt. Apart from Arlette and Jean, who lived in the back, Laura was the only person to have slept in his house since Dorine had gone missing. He’d let her stay here because he knew it was what his grandfather wanted.

And because you were trying to uncover her true agenda. Look how that turned out for you, Valfort!

He heard footsteps and lifted his dark head. Every time he saw Irene’s granddaughter, she looked sensational. Yet beneath the surface he sensed her struggle over a situation that had plagued all of them for years. He discovered his own emotions churning. Today she’d dressed in chocolate-colored linen pants and a café au lait–toned blouse with a chic mandarin collar. She’d fastened her hair back with a tortoiseshell comb.

He got to his feet. “Bonjour, Laura.”

“Bonjour,” she mimicked him before putting up her hands. “Don’t laugh. I only took Spanish and never could get the hang of the accent to my teacher’s satisfaction.”

Nic chuckled as he pulled out a chair for her. “Join me for brunch.”

“Thank you. This looks delicious. I’m sorry I slept so late. The fabulous walk after the music last night lulled me into a deep sleep.”

“No apology needed after that long flight.” He saw signs she’d been crying.

She sat down and took a serving of quiche and fresh fruit. “How did my grandmother do in the accent department?”

“Exactly like you in the beginning. But she worked hard at it. Within two years she sounded French.”

“So it is possible.”

“Of course.”

“There is no ‘of course’ about it. I work with people who’ve been in the States for years and they still sound like they came from somewhere else.”

“An accent is something you have to cultivate. But in truth, your grandmother had an excellent ear.”

“Being married to Maurice, she was no doubt motivated,” Laura quipped. “It’s evident he’s an exceptional man. He couldn’t have been kinder to me last night. I hope I didn’t hurt his feelings by not accepting his invitation to stay at the château.”

“My grandfather made the gesture in hope, but I interceded to give you time to adjust.”

“I know, and I’m very grateful. For what it’s worth, I apologize for the way I treated you in San Francisco. Or maybe I should say, the way I didn’t treat you. You were sent into a hornet’s nest.

“Given the lovely evening out you showed this tourist last night, I should have taken you to some special spots in San Francisco. We could have eaten at my favorite restaurant at Fisherman’s Wharf, ridden a trolley, driven up to Twin Peaks for the greatest view. Forgive me for being incredibly rude when you were only carrying out your grandfather’s wishes.”

“Just as you were holding up your end to the best of your ability,” he inserted.

Now that Nic was getting to know Laura, he’d been forced to alter all his old concepts about her. With the gloves off, this woman was showing the perception and human insight she shared with her grandmother. It took that kind of depth to have attracted his grandfather. In truth, it attracted him.

He couldn’t believe that in so short a time Laura had stirred up feelings inside of him without any design on her part. How had Nic allowed himself to get in this position when her family had wronged his over several decades? Since he was in love with Dorine and always would be, neither Dorine’s nor Nic’s family would be able to understand him having a desire to be with another woman. But for it to be Laura?

Their shock if they knew she was his houseguest filled him with despair. He would never want to let his family down, or Dorine’s, but Laura’s presence beneath his roof was important to Maurice. Unfortunately, no matter how pure Nic’s intentions, their disapproval would pour down on his head once they found out.

“To be honest, I’m ashamed of my behavior,” she confessed.

“No more than I. Yet we’ve survived our second skirmish intact. Are you ready for the third?”

Her inquisitive gaze darted to his. “Do I take it you’ve already talked to Maurice this morning?”

Nic nodded. “He and your grandmother were early birds. Naturally he would like to come over. How do you feel about that? No one else will be here to disturb us.”

She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Please tell him to come. Will someone drive him?”

“Not my grandfather. He says driving is his one pleasure at this point and he refuses to give it up.”

“It must be so hard to find himself alone. To have lived with someone all those years...I can’t imagine it.”

“To be sure, he’s struggling. He’s also apprehensive of your true feelings.”

She bit her lip. “Whatever the problem with my family, I wasn’t a part of it except to feel the fallout. You have no idea how eager I am to talk to him.”

That would thrill Maurice no end. “Bon.” He pulled out his cell phone and rang his grandfather to give him the go-ahead. The older man sounded elated before they hung up.

“Nic? Does your family know I’m in Nice?”

“Not yet. For the time being this meeting is just between the three of us. My grandfather is aware this is new ground for all of us.”

Those lovely blue eyes were filled with anxiety. “Is the animosity as bad on your family’s side?”

Time to tell the truth. “To this day none of his siblings or my parents or my aunts and uncles have approved of Maurice’s second marriage. They couldn’t very well banish Irene from the family, but they kept their distance so that she always felt like an outsider—except with Maurice, of course.”

“And you.”

He nodded.

“That means all of you have been in pain, like my family. How tragic,” she whispered.

“Tragic is the right word. They thought my grandmother Fleurette was perfect. I did, too. At the end she suffered from a severe case of arthritis that deformed her extremities and kept her bedridden.

“My grandfather waited on her with such devotion and grieved for her so terribly, none of us thought he would ever get over his loss. When he announced he was getting married again less than two years after the funeral, it was hard on the family to comprehend.”

“Two years?”

“Yes.”

“But I thought—”

“I’m afraid you don’t have all the information,” he muttered gloomily. “There’ve been huge lapses of the truth on both sides of the Atlantic.”

A distressed sound escaped her throat. “Whatever the truth, both sides of our families have suffered a lot of grief that I find appalling.”

“You’re not alone on that score. My family would have understood his finding a woman—or several women—to be with. But to actually get married again to a woman from another culture and bring her to the family home to live was a particularly bitter pill to swallow. It turned out she was the widow of Richard Holden, another hotelier who’d put Holden Hotels on the map in California.”

Nic sat forward. “Did you know your grandparents and mine met at several world conferences with other hoteliers while they were in business?”

“What?” she cried.

“It seems the four of them struck up a friendship and did a little traveling together.”

Aghast, Laura shook her head. “I didn’t know about the travel.”

“I’m not surprised. As they say, the devil is in the details, and you weren’t privy to them. Maurice was saddened when he learned Richard was dying of cancer and visited their home several times before he passed away.”

“Was your grandmother still alive at that time?”

“Mais oui. She went to Richard’s home with him.”

“So the idea of an adulterous relationship—”

“Is preposterous,” Nic concluded for her. “It was two years later before arthritis turned on Fleurette and put her to bed. After her death my grandfather finally rallied and started working all hours. A year later there was an international conference in New York where several hoteliers were being honored. He discovered Irene was there to receive an award posthumously for Richard.”

“So that’s how they met again.”

He nodded. “I leave it to your imagination to figure out what happened. Two strong people who’d been friends earlier and had a great capacity to love discovered they wanted more and fell in love.”

Laura was fighting her emotions. “What a romantic story.”

“Yes. My grandfather flew to California constantly to be with her. He tried to get to know your mother and aunt, but it wasn’t meant to be. When he proposed, she said yes and they got married.”

“Where?”

“In California. They had a private civil ceremony performed by a justice of the peace. He planned to settle there with her so she wouldn’t have to be uprooted from your family. They could travel back and forth to France. Maurice had decided to install his brother, Auguste, to be in charge of the corporation while he consulted from a distance. But it wasn’t meant to be, at which point Maurice brought her to France. He’ll fill you in on the details.”

“Their marriage shouldn’t have decimated both families,” Laura cried softly. “What’s wrong with all of them?”

He shook his head. “I was twelve at the time. After hearing the family talk, I wasn’t prepared to like your grandmother, who was taking the place of my minou, but that changed when he brought Irene to Nice to live and I met her. She was one of the most charming women I ever met, and it was clear to anyone they made each other happy. She became my unofficial English tutor.”

Those blue eyes lit up. “Really?”

“We both enjoyed our informal sessions.”

“You helped each other.”

“Yes. As I grew older I heard the word opportunist in regard to her come up in hushed conversations at family gatherings. But that was absurd, since Grandfather told me she had plenty of her own money.”

Laura pushed away from the table and stood up. “I don’t understand any of it, particularly not the lie or the depth of my mother’s and aunt’s venom. After what you’ve told me, it doesn’t make sense.”

“I agree there’s a big piece missing and had hoped you could enlighten me. Perhaps my grandfather will be able to shed some more light on the subject. Would you like to go down to the garden while we wait?”

“I’d love it. I’ll get my sweater.”

She joined him in another minute wearing a white cardigan. He opened the French doors onto the patio. From there he led her down stone steps to the garden.

“You’d never know it was winter here. Look at that exquisite array of flowers! Everything from pink to red and purple. No wonder they call Provence God’s garden.”

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