The early hours were Katherine’s favorite time of day. Birdsong was close and uninterrupted, as if meant only for her. She moved quietly over the smooth terra-cotta tiles and opened one set of doors after another.
This view—I will always love it best …
Across the bay, two ancient stone towers stood sentry over the cluster of red-tiled rooftops. Soft rays of sunrise were beginning to warm the sky in bands of gold, lighting the silhouette of the old town of Antibes. The gently rolling hills beyond led her eye to the craggy peaks of the Maritime Alps, and she wondered how soon they would be dressed in their winter finery. Their snowcaps were late coming this year.
Snow always meant Christmas to Kat. She knew that might be just a memory from now on.
The last vestiges of autumn and the salty scent of the sea lingered in the air. She found it hard to believe December twenty-fifth was fast approaching. In spite of loving the hot summers of the Côte d’Azur, Kat also enjoyed the increasingly crisp, cool weather. She welcomed the freshness drifting into the rooms when she left the doors open for a few minutes.
There was something else adding to her feeling of pleasure this morning. I’m so happy that letter arrived yesterday … it’s making today feel extra special knowing we can move ahead with our plans for the villa.
Stepping outside, that thought was interrupted by a sudden movement out of the corner of her eye. Amongst the shrubs at the far end of the garden, the blur of a human form seemed to dissipate like a ghostly apparition. Kat stood absolutely still.
There was no reason for anyone to be down there, unless it was a gardener. But this was not a gardener. Especially not at this early hour.
It was not the first morning that she had experienced this sense of someone in the garden of late. She always felt safe there, but for some reason she felt a slight uneasiness now and made a mental note to check it out later.
With her focus riveted to the spot, she saw no additional movement. Nothing more to note. She felt an involuntary shudder, remembering that just over a year before, she had been subjected to the most frightening experience of her life. She didn’t want to feel like that ever again. She wanted to believe this was nothing more than an overactive imagination. Even though Philippe had just this week brought those memories to the surface again.
Blaming her visions this morning on the shifting light of dawn, she looked out to sea again as happier thoughts took over.
2
The distinctive yellow profile of the early-morning ferry, carrying passengers from Nice to Corsica, slid slowly along the horizon. It distracted her from worries about someone in the garden, and her thoughts shifted to pleasure. She and Philippe were planning a trip in the spring, to tour that rugged island on his vintage Ducati.
Chuckling, she shook her head at the notion that she was excited about it, recalling how until just over a year ago she had never been on a motorcycle. That was something else that had changed in her life.
As the ship sailed away, Kat turned and walked back inside.
I’ve come a long way since that first time Philippe took me up into the hills on his motorcycle—a simple ride that turned into some of the most erotic moments …
“What’s so funny, minou?” Philippe asked, doing up the buttons on a deep blue dress shirt as he came over to her. His expression and voice were full of curiosity.
Kat turned and grinned. “Um, I was having a giggle thinking about touring Corsica on the back of your motorcycle. Watching the morning ferry reminded me we’ll be going on that adventure in the spring. Something I never would have imagined before you came into my life.”
“Une grande aventure, bien sûr.” Philippe smiled back, his dark eyes shining like deep pools drawing her in. He drew Kat into his arms and teased, “Viens! Je te chale!”
Kat hugged him tightly, laughing at his invitation to hop on the back of his beloved Ducati. “It’s going to be such fun. I can’t wait!”
“But that’s months away. More to the point, are you ready for the adventure that will begin in January? With any luck, finally we will welcome our first guests! I’ve been thinking about it ever since the approval arrived yesterday from the mairie.”
Philippe was referring to the registered letter from the town office they had been waiting months for.
That past June, their idea of opening an inn by the end of September had been stalled suddenly, just weeks after their May wedding. The plan was put on hold when Roman ruins were uncovered during the digging for the proposed parking area.
Historical experts had been back and forth to the property, photographing, brushing, measuring, studying, and returning to the archives office to research some more. The area by the driveway was roped off and suddenly viewed as sacrosanct.
At long last, decisions were reached by the authorities. Clear instructions were issued as to how the ruins must be preserved. Philippe explained to Kat that the Roman stones could not be moved or covered over once they had been discovered.
“We can do a nice planting around the area and make it special,” Kat said. “I’m excited. Roman ruins are not something we get to deal with in Canada.”
The parking spots would be relocated.
“One of the first things I learned from you about life here in France was that the bureaucracy moves at its own pace,” Katherine said.
Philippe rolled his eyes. “C’est peu dire.”
“Understatement or not,” Kat replied, giving Philippe a playful poke in the ribs, “I still find it rather quaint, like so many other aspects of life here that make you crazy.”
“Ha! You’re still a tourist in that regard,” he teased. “If there is anything about living in the South of France you don’t like, I have yet to hear it.”
In fact, everyone was excited about having the small patch of ancient history on the land. In spite of there being remnants of Roman life throughout the region, standing on that piece of hallowed ground gave them all a little thrill. Didier and his crew were proud of making the discovery.
“I imagine our guests will think our place is even more special because of it,” Philippe speculated. “D’accord?”
Kat’s face beamed. “D’accord. Yes, okay! I’m so ready—a bit nervous—but ready! I’m going to pick Simone’s brain about the arrangements we need to make with the boulangerie. She had some excellent ideas when we talked about it months ago. Now we can proceed with all of our plans.”
Simone, their ninety-five-year-old neighbor and dear friend, was always a wealth of information and knew all the ins and outs of French life, especially when it came to food.
“Bonne idée! Didier told me that once Simone gives us her advice, he will have one of his équipe pick up the fresh pastries each morning for le petit déjeuner, so you won’t have to do it.” Philippe was referring to the take-charge general contractor who was overseeing the restoration of their villa and the ongoing transformation of the property.
Didier amusingly considered his workers to be a sports team and maintained a tight schedule. At the same time, Katherine thought he was the sweetest, most considerate guy who knew everything about construction—and being kind. He also had the endearing habit of always wearing his Basque beret.
Affection filled Kat’s expression. “Trust him to think of that. We’re so fortunate to have him and his crew of characters!”
Philippe nodded as he put some papers in a thin, battered leather briefcase while Kat watched. “It’s strange to see you leaving the house in the morning dressed so formally,” she said.
Giving her a look of mock indignation, Philippe asked, “You don’t enjoy seeing me like this?”
“Oui! I love it! But not at eight in the morning when you should be at the market in your jeans, t-shirt, and fromager apron! You looking so formal and businesslike right now indicates that you’re heading off to see Inspecteur Thibideau, who has come down from the head office of the narcotics division in Paris. And we both know what that’s about.”
A s
harp stab of fear pierced Katherine’s thoughts. In spite of her efforts to focus on the positive this morning, it was time to face facts.
Her expression faded to a worried frown. An involuntary shiver ran up her back and her eyes narrowed. All the pleasure that had consumed her for the past few minutes was erased. Vivid memories returned from a year ago and that autumn’s frightful experience.
Philippe’s former mother-in-law, Idelle, with whom he had no contact, and her Russian drug lord husband, Dimitri, had literally burst into their lives and threatened them. Idelle had been determined to claim, wrongfully, some ownership to Philippe’s property on the Cap since her deceased daughter had been his wife. It had been something out of a Hollywood crime film.
First there was a mysterious note left on Philippe’s car, followed by a wild high-speed car chase that narrowly avoided a fatal crash with a train.
A few days later, a terrified Kat had been threatened with a gun when Idelle and Igor, Dimitri’s sleazy henchman, had forced their way into Philippe’s apartment while she was there alone.
After several long weeks, the French narcotics department had put in place undercover police and security for Kat and Philippe. They followed with an organized sting to bring the nightmare to an end.
Months had passed before Kat could overcome that out-of-body experience, even though she had worked to disguise her anxiety. She knew that her recovery was the result of the comfort and love Philippe gave her, the likes of which she had never known before.
Philippe grimaced, seeing Kat’s expression of dismay. Stepping forward, he put his arm around her. Then he took her face in his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. His voice was warm and reassuring. “Ne t’inquiète pas. Don’t worry. This morning’s meeting with Inspecteur Thibideau is really no more than a formality, I’m sure of that. I’ll call you as soon as I leave his office to tell you all about it.”
“Just one more reason I love you, mon chou,” Katherine told him, trying to absorb his gentle assertion. “You are always so quietly positive. I want to feel the same way you do about this.”
But she felt her throat tighten, and her voice wavered as she continued. “Just tell me those horrid people are not back in Antibes. That’s what I need to hear.”
Kat hoped with all her heart there would not be a repeat scare. It had been no joke the year before to have not only their relationship threatened, but also their lives.
“Je sais, mon coeur,” Philippe said. “I know.” Kat allowed herself to be gently pulled into his comforting embrace. They stayed holding each other for a while.
After kissing Kat goodbye, Philippe walked out to the car. He turned to give her a reassuring wave and smile.
3
Watching his car disappear down the driveway, Kat attempted to stop the sense of foreboding washing through her. She knew it was not going to be easy to cope with the terrifying fear she had worked so hard to banish.
She could feel the bitter taste of bile rising in her throat. Her hands clenched into tight fists. Closing her eyes, she summoned her breathing to slow down until she could sense a return of calm.
Using a yoga exercise, she raised her arms in a slow stretch up to the sky before letting them drop, along with her neck and torso, like a rag doll. She held that position for a few seconds. Blowing out a long exhale, she straightened and gave herself a shake, mentally as well as physically.
Feeling slightly better, Katherine went into the kitchen to fetch Coco and Rocco from their crates. These two will lift my spirits and blow away the dark cloud over my head.
The night before, she and Philippe had decided not to let the dogs out until he left. Most mornings, his departure was rambunctiously delayed, and he gladly built that time into his schedule. But this particular morning he was too focused on the mission in Nice. And he was wearing his good clothes.
The Chocolate Lab siblings were now just over eleven months old, with irresistible personalities. Kat and Philippe were completely smitten. They had been going to puppy training classes together since the week they first brought the dogs home from the animal refuge near Mougins.
Kat smiled to herself as she relived that fateful time when these two pieces of her heart had simply tumbled into her life.
In late winter, Kat had gone to the refuge with her friend Annette to see about a rescue cat for Annette’s mother. She had never intended to consider anything for herself because Philippe had promised her a pup as a belated Christmas present. Then Molly had her terrible accident just after New Year’s, and Katherine had suddenly found herself back in Toronto. The purchase of a pup was postponed.
By the time Kat and Annette left the refuge that day, there was no turning back. Not only had Annette found the perfect companion for her mother, Katherine knew her own heart had been stolen.
The pups had been well looked after at the shelter. Though they were barely alive and just a few days old when they were found in a ditch and brought to the refuge, Delphine, the sweet Goth-attired assistant on duty, had fallen in love with them and spent many hours of overtime giving them her tender care.
When Kat surprised Philippe by bringing him to see the pups a few days later, their friends David and Véronique Johnston accompanied them. All four had been taken with many of the animals as they stopped to pet or rub or say a few comforting words.
However, once these two balls of chocolate fluff spilled out of their crates, Philippe felt the same love at first sight that Kat had. Her wish had come true.
Choosing just one of the pups had been difficult. Philippe told Kat it was her choice to make. When she finally said she would take the female, she had the surprise of her life when Philippe said he would take the male. Moments passed before Kat processed that he was suggesting both would go home with them.
The canine love affair had been ongoing ever since, with good-natured banter as to which of the pups was best behaved.
“Coco may have the biggest, most beautiful brown eyes, but Rocco is always first to obey a command,” Philippe would tease.
“But Coco is a much daintier eater,” Kat would counter.
And the competition would be off and running.
They both agreed the dogs had brought an added dimension of love and laughter to their home.
Bringing herself back to the present, Kat decided it was time for their morning romp in the garden.
Kat knew from experience to sit on the kitchen floor when she opened the second crate. Handling that first morning attack of love from one puppy was manageable, but when both pups had their freedom, Kat needed to be on the floor or she would be bowled over. She hugged and rubbed each of them as they clambered over her, delivering sloppy puppy kisses.
“Allez, zou! Let’s go!” She opened the French doors at the end of the kitchen, and Coco and Rocco bounded out to their special spot at the end of the garden to do their business. Then they dashed straight back to Kat for a treat and a scratch on the head. After that, they were off to do some frantic circuits around the property, pausing every once in a while to wrestle with each other or find an irresistible stick to chew.
On the terrace, Kat’s gaze floated across the lawn, now healthy and thick after the recent rain. She took in the extensive flowerbeds that ran down to the stone wall bordering the road that edged the sea. It was satisfying to see the progress made over the summer.
She had spent exhausting weeks digging in fertilizer and peat moss and replanting vast areas with young shrubs and perennials to replicate the original plantings. Kat felt the spirit of her mother beside her as she worked the soil, dreaming of what was to be.
The work was guided by treasured old photos she and Philippe had discovered. Much of the heavy labor was accomplished by Didier and his crew, with one, Auguste, demonstrating a surprising interest in gardening and a delicate touch.
Those overflowing gardens had become her joy through the summer. In the past few months, despite their fading autumn glory, this had not changed. Even as winter approache
d, they still gave her pleasure. The enormous hydrangea blooms had thrilled with their colorful blue, pink, and purple splendor. Dried and faded, they continued to offer a stunning display. Now their shades of taupe stood tall on strong stems, hardening in the cooler weather.
Katherine could not resist using them as decorating accents. Throughout the villa, their massive dried blooms filled earthenware jugs and pots, complementing the rich patina of the timeworn stone walls.
Auguste had acted on Kat’s suggestion to add some ornamental grasses around the property. Tall bunches of drying stems mixed with poppy seed heads and other golden foliage and contributed textured interest to the winter-ready beds.
It was a bonus that Philippe shared her feelings about the gardens. They had spent long hours clearing, digging, and planting and in the last few weeks preparing them for winter, pruning back and spreading protective mulch. Whether they worked in silence or chatted or moaned about aching muscles, it was quality time together.
Any gardening she had done in her past life back in Toronto, other than with her mother, had been a solitary experience. Just like her previous marriage overall, she often reflected.
Her eyes lingered, stalled in that vision of her life with James, as her thoughts drifted. Before that life-affirming first home exchange in Provence, I was such a creature of habit—or was that simply how I avoided acknowledging my unhappiness? All my days were caught in the same routine. Now I live a life where every day is an adventure that I embrace with gusto. My new husband, our life together, the family and friends we have, and the home we’re creating are constant joys.
Katherine had not arrived at this mindset without some difficulty.
When she had returned to Toronto the previous January to help Molly recover from that serious accident, Kat had been shocked to discover the struggle she faced. Her decision to move to France permanently and make a life with Philippe suddenly became difficult.
The First Noël at the Villa des Violettes Page 2