The First Noël at the Villa des Violettes

by Patricia Sands

  From her vantage point, Kat admired the richly decorated construction of the cathedral and lacy bell tower. Its pink-and-brown sandstone and single spire made it the most unique cathedral Kat had ever seen. She captured it from many angles as she attempted to fit it into one frame and recalled reading how writer Victor Hugo had described it as a “gigantic and delicate marvel.”

  I would agree …

  She stayed on the terrace, ordering a second creamy hot chocolate. The flavor was so rich and full, she thought, she could only describe the experience as total bliss.

  No wonder Alsace is the champion chocolate-exporting region of France, she texted Gilles. So far your recommendations have been magnifique!

  She waited until the chimes sounded on the hour. She wanted to experience what she had read was one of the most perfect volleys of bells anywhere. When it was over, she was very glad she had stayed, although she realized now that the peals could certainly be heard everywhere in town. They were loud!

  She spent the remainder of the afternoon exploring the surrounding area. Katherine crossed bridges and wandered along canals where the classic half-timbered homes were painted rainbow colors. In one of the town’s oldest houses, she discovered the Alsatian Museum. She was pleased that much of the information explained about the culture and traditions in English.

  As dusk began to settle, the streets came alive with lanterns and twinkling lights. Decorations were strung and draped everywhere. Shop windows gleamed and beckoned. Holiday music floated from open doors, and the a cappella carols of strolling singers drifted through the streets. Magic was in the air.

  Finding her way back to the cathedral, she enjoyed the Christmas aromas drifting around the markets: cinnamon, cloves, and orange wafting from vats of vin chaud, spicy gingerbread, roasting chestnuts. Friendly vendors offered samples of bredeles, the quaint traditional bite-size Christmas cookies. The variety of tastes and shapes was surprising.

  I will buy a few packages of those tomorrow to take home.

  Before she lost control and vanished into the market stalls, she walked over to the skating rink in front of the cathedral. She bought a foie gras sandwich, another recommendation from Gilles (“They’ve had a reputation for exquisite foie gras from Strasbourg since the seventeen hundreds, Kat. Don’t miss it!”). She paired it with a small glass of beer, which she knew was another must-have for the region.

  The terrace was packed. She politely asked to sit on an empty corner chair at a table filled with merrymakers and was robustly welcomed in a variety of languages.

  She watched the skaters and applauded groups of singers and buskers that strolled from table to table. When she finished her sandwich, a plate piled with beignets appeared in front of her, offered by her tablemates. Everyone was munching on them, and she accepted their gracious hospitality. Pitchers of aromatic vin chaud followed, along with a stack of paper cups.

  Before long, Kat was engaged in conversation with visitors from many countries. They shared their experiences and offered suggestions for her market visit on Sunday. A wave of diverse accents rolled around the table. Kat’s heart was warmed at the ease with which friendship could be shared.

  As she walked back to the hotel, her phone pinged with a text from Philippe asking about her day and suggesting she not wait up for him.

  It was eleven o’clock when she finally climbed into bed, ready for a good night’s sleep. As she snuggled under the crisp sheet and voluminous duvet, Kat felt her anxiety about Christmas slipping back into her thoughts.

  Everything here is so beautiful. It’s impossible not to feel festive—and I have to say I’m loving it. This may be just what I needed to finally put my anxieties to rest once and for all.

  17

  The symphony of church bells wakened Kat and Philippe on Sunday morning, and their eyes opened groggily.

  Wrapped in Philippe’s arms, the way she liked best to sleep, Kat turned her head to meet her husband’s slitty-eyed gaze. She laughed. He moaned.

  “Had a good evening, chouchou?”

  “Mmm,” Philippe moaned again.

  “Too much cheese and Alsatian wine?”

  “Mmm,” came the reply once more.

  “Need to sleep some more?”

  Silence for a moment. Then Philippe cleared his throat and said, “Non! Aucune problème! I will jump in the shower and be good to go in no time. We only have today, and I don’t want us to miss anything.”

  Kat loved his ever-ready enthusiasm no matter how he was feeling. She soaked in the tub filled with bubbles for ten minutes and was ready to go at the same time he was.

  Before they left the room, Philippe presented Kat with a small, brightly painted wooden box.

  “It’s so pretty, I don’t want to open it. What is it?”

  Philippe’s crooked grin gave away the answer.

  “Fromage! Cheese! Of course—what else would you bring me?” Kat said, laughing. “That’s why the box is cold; you had it in the fridge.”

  From the first time they met, Philippe had wooed Kat with special selections of cheese. Molly had teased her about having a lover who brought her cheese rather than flowers. Kat always thought it made him special.

  “It’s a small sample of the very best Munster you could ever imagine. I didn’t want you to miss the experience,” Philippe told her.

  “That’s so sweet. Will it be okay until we get home?”

  “Pas de problème. Let’s put it back in the fridge until we check out.” As they walked outside, Philippe asked, “How’s this for a plan? Let’s hit the markets and snack our way through the day at the different stalls, sampling all the regional specialties. I was given some tips by locals last night.”

  “So was I! That sounds good to me. Some of the stalls have wonderful merchandise—not to mention food. It was all I could do to resist getting drawn into the magic of it all. One thing you absolutely must do is have the foie gras sandwich Gilles recommended. I had one, and they are to die for! Sublime!”

  “On y va! Let’s go!”

  They were aware that the Christkindelsmärik huts were spread throughout the town, some with different themes. The day was crisp and cool, but they were dressed for it and eager to see what these famous markets, dating back to 1570, had to offer. Apart from all of the edibles, there were handmade gifts and traditional decorations, pottery, toys, tablecloths, clothing, candles, paper goods, and so much more.

  Kat had a few moments of melancholy as she thought about how her parents would have loved the experience. They would have related to the handcrafted items, stitched or carved, for sale throughout the market. Katherine could imagine her parents’ excitement with the baking and food products that so closely resembled their own Eastern European favorites.

  Kat and Philippe were not disappointed as they strolled. Like the lovers they were, they wandered with their arms around each other, stopping to examine things more closely when something special caught their eye.

  Small groups of carolers sauntered through the streets, and Kat and Philippe often paused to listen to their songs.

  “Chouchou, I have never been anywhere with a more impressive Christmas atmosphere. I could not have dreamed this, even after seeing many pictures of it and reading about it.”

  Philippe kissed her forehead and agreed. “I guess when you’ve been doing this for five hundred years, you figure out how to get it right!”

  As they went along, from time to time they’d slip apart to browse. Katherine had gone ahead to buy gingerbread gifts when Philippe caught up with her, his hands behind his back.

  “Close your eyes,” he said, not even trying to contain a wide smile. Kat followed his instruction, and then felt something soft caress her cheek.

  “Um, okay, it feels lovely … but I give up!”

  “Non! Écoute! Listen first.”

  Now Kat heard a soft musical tinkling of bells, sweet to her ear.

  “A rabbit with bells around its neck? Whatever it is, I like it.”
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br />   Next Philippe asked Kat to hold out her hands and then open her eyes.

  She squealed with delight as she saw a rustic, hand-carved, painted Santa with a soft woolen beard. In one hand he held an overstuffed bag of toys. The other hand grasped a wooden handle with miniature silver bells attached that jingled softly whenever the carving was moved.

  “Merci mille fois!” Kat cried as she threw an arm around Philippe’s neck. Bells jingled madly. She held out the Santa, and they both studied the detailed craftsmanship.

  “I love him!”

  “I hoped you would,” Philippe said. He handed her a stitched velvet bag.

  “Even the bag is a gem,” she said as she carefully slipped the Santa inside. “He will be the tallest of my collection and really stand out!”

  Katherine had begun her Santa collection when she left home after university. Her mother had given her the little plastic Santa with four reindeers and a white picket fence with four wire-brush fir trees that had sat on their mantel since Kat was a child. One of the reindeer had a red nose, applied with nail polish, when five-year-old Kat insisted he was Rudolph.

  Every year, Kat had added to her collection. After her first Christmas married to James, she realized that those Santas would bring her more of an emotional connection at Christmas than he would. Molly referred to him as the Grinch, and she was so right. He had no happy childhood memories of the holiday and preferred to simply ignore it.

  In spite of James’s disinterest, Kat had faithfully set up her collection year after year. But each time, there had also been a touch of sadness that James did not share in her joy of the season. His dysfunctional family upbringing had left its mark.

  “There you go, minou, one more addition to our first Christmas/Noël as the Dufours in our own home. I hope you are feeling less stressed about it.”

  Kat kissed him. “I’m working on it, I promise. After my lunch with Simone and this weekend’s immersion into all things festive, my anxiety is being replaced with excitement, petit à petit. Thank you for this guy. He’s very special!”

  They continued to sample and snack their way through the afternoon, deciding to forgo dinner. From time to time they sipped a glass of vin chaud, breathing in the pleasing bouquet of blended spices that warmed their bodies and left a lingering taste of fruitiness in their throats.

  They agreed that it was the perfect drink to go along with the fairy-tale architecture and magical atmosphere of the markets. They were already planning to return another year and stay longer.

  “With all the foie gras, cheese, baked goods, and meat products we are taking home, let’s have a fireside candlelit dinner at home with our pups!”

  “Bonne idée! I can’t wait to see them. I hope they behaved for Delphine!”

  When they headed to the airport for the flight back to Nice, both were carrying an extra bag packed with treats.

  18

  It was a surprise when Gilles opened the door of the villa after Bernadette dropped off Kat and Philippe.

  Katherine had called Delphine on the way from the airport to let her know they would soon be home. She had remarked to Philippe that Delphine sounded kind of rushed, but they thought nothing of it. Delphine certainly had not mentioned that Gilles was there.

  “Salut!” Philippe said, but he knew right away something was wrong. Kat was still outside chatting with Bernadette.

  Gilles’s expression spoke volumes. He replied quickly to Philippe, “We have a problem. Rocco is missing.”

  “Non! For how long?”

  “Since late yesterday afternoon. Delphine is beside herself. We have looked everywhere! Didier and his guys have been out searching.”

  “Where is Delphine?” Philippe asked, in a worried voice. He knew how upset she would be.

  “She went out to the garden to have another look after Kat called. She didn’t sleep all night and has walked all over the Cap and through town. She called me after the market closed today—didn’t want to bother me before. Poor girl.”

  Philippe felt his pulse race but knew he needed to remain calm. He called out to Kat and asked Bernadette to come in, too. If anyone knew what was going on around the Cap, it was Bernadette.

  In as calm a voice as possible, he repeated what Gilles had told him. Kat gasped as the color drained from her face. She made a motion to rush out to the garden, but just then, there was a loud commotion. Coco came dashing down the hall, with Delphine hurrying behind her.

  Seeing Coco had a slightly calming effect, and the pup greeted Kat and Philippe with her usual overload of love and excitement.

  Delphine stood by quietly, her shoulders sagging and black mascara streaks on her cheeks.

  Kat reached her first and put her arms around her. “Oh, Delphine, I know how worried you must be. Tell us what happened.”

  “Let’s go and sit,” Philippe said, and led them all to the salon.

  Delphine’s voice broke a few times as she related how the pups had been playing in the garden as usual. She had been there with them. At one point, they disappeared into the shrubbery and trees at the far end. “As they often do,” she said. “After a while, I went down there when they didn’t respond to my call.” She wiped her cheek as tears began to fall. Bernadette handed her a tissue.

  Philippe suggested they go to that part of the garden while Delphine finished her story.

  As they walked across the lawn, Delphine continued. “Once I got closer, I could hear Coco whimpering. It took me a minute to push the bushes aside and find where she was standing. Rocco was nowhere in sight. I couldn’t see how he could possibly have gone anywhere since he couldn’t have climbed over the rock wall. I searched and searched. Coco would not leave … ” Tears flooded her face now, and she lost her voice, shaking her head and wringing her hands. “I had to carry her back to the house.”

  Kat swallowed hard and reached over to take her hands. “Don’t worry, Delphine. It’s not your fault. We will find him, that little monkey, and it—”

  At this point, Gilles interrupted. “We have scoured all along the wall and cannot figure out how he could have disappeared. We searched Simone’s property thoroughly, too. It really is the strangest thing.”

  Philippe was well ahead of everyone now. A frown creased his forehead. He disappeared into the bushes, then Kat and Gilles followed. Delphine stayed back with Coco on a leash.

  Philippe stepped back out onto the grass, followed by Kat. Gilles was still thrashing around.

  “We looked around down there the other day because Kat thought she might have seen someone in that forested area. It did seem as if someone or something had been in there fairly recently, as the underbrush was packed down in one spot. You know where that old apple tree is that we never pay attention to?”

  “Well, the rock wall goes all along there. Maybe someone climbed over it. But the dog couldn’t have,” Kat said.

  “It’s pretty hard to access since the wall sits on top of a six-foot ledge,” Gilles agreed.

  “It doesn’t make any sense,” Delphine muttered, heartbreak clear on her face. “But look at Coco. She’s definitely feeling something.” The pup was snuffling along the base of the wall with her nose pressed to the ground.

  Katherine and Philippe took turns calling Rocco’s name.

  Bernadette spoke up now and said she was going to drive around and take a look from the road, even though it was already dark.

  “Attends! I’ll go with you,” Gilles offered. “Even though several of us have searched there, your new set of eyes may spot something.”

  “We should probably go back to the house and have a drink while we come up with a plan. I know how upset we all are,” Philippe said.

  “If we don’t see anything, I will drive all around tomorrow,” Bernadette said. “I’ll check in with you.”

  “Mille mercis,” Kat thanked her. “We will keep each other posted. Delphine, why don’t you stay here tonight?”

  “Madame,” as Delphine insisted on calling Kather
ine, “I … I … don’t know what to say. That is so kind of you. I have to work at the refuge tomorrow and will leave early in the morning.”

  “That’s fine with us, if it is fine with you. I’m sure you can use some company right now—and some sleep.”

  Delphine was clearly fighting to keep her eyes open. Kat led her by the hand to the room she had been staying in. At the doorway, Delphine turned to Kat and whispered, “You and monsieur have been so good to me ever since you first brought the pups home with you. You’ve made me feel like this is my home, too, and now I have let you down. Désolée, désolée … ”

  Katherine took Delphine’s face in her hands. “Shhh, ma chère. You are part of our family, yes. You have not let us down. This could easily have happened when we were here.”

  “Bonne nuit. This will all work out. We will find Rocco. It is not your fault.”

  Once Delphine was in her room, Kat fell into Philippe’s arms on the sofa in the salon and burst into tears.

  “You did a good job of holding back, minou,” Philippe said. “I know how this is affecting you. It’s so upsetting.”

  Katherine blew her nose and tried to pull herself together. “What do you think happened to him? How on earth did he get off the property? What if we can’t find him?”

  “We will find him. Keep telling yourself that.”

  “But what if he’s hurt?” Kat mumbled.

  “He is chipped. If he’s hurt, someone will take him to a vet and they will notify us. We will find him,” Philippe repeated.

  “But … but … what if the drug dealers took him? Or what if it’s a dog-stealing ring? What if that’s why someone was in our garden? Maybe they were casing our place and planning to take the dogs all along, and something went wrong and they just got Rocco? What if we might have lost them both?”

  With that she began to cry again. These pups were like their children, and Kat had never felt that more strongly than at this very moment. Coco leaned against her as if trying to offer support. Kat’s tears flowed even more as she stroked Coco’s velvety coat.