“Good thing I started on them a few days ago,” he said. “Pineapple and mango, chocolate and praline, and vanilla and chestnut.”
“No alcohol?” I asked.
“Maybe just a pinch of Armagnac.” He held up his forefinger and thumb. Looked like more than a pinch.
“Desserts are your specialty.” I clapped my hands together. “The menu is set.”
“You forgot about the chapons and the faisans,” said Gustave.
“Wow, what a feast. Capons and pheasants, too?” I asked.
“Oui. I’m roasting them tomorrow morning, and les dames are making the farce aux marrons. Not everybody is a fan of seafood.”
The granny brigade whispered in a corner, nodding their heads in unison. By their smiles, everybody seemed happy with the plan. I was proving I could do this—to me and to them.
“Are we all ready to get to work?” I asked.
“Oui, Chef,” came the shout, the two little words sending tingles and shivers down my spine.
Phillipa tapped me on the shoulder. “I’m taking off to pick up Walter and Robert. You’ve got things covered here?”
“I do,” I said. “And thanks.”
“No need to thank me,” she said. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”
* * *
Walter and Robert stood in front of the château, mouths agape. Naturally, they both wore their matching Façonnable shirts, Robert showing his personal sense of style with his ascot. “This is your grandmother’s house?” asked Walter with a gasp. “Why were you slumming it with me?”
Robert brought his hands to his chest as if he were having a heart attack. “We are so getting married here.” He thrust his hand in my face, showing off a simple black ring. “Walter and I are engaged!”
“Congratulations! This is amazing news. I’m so happy for the two of you, and I wouldn’t expect you to get hitched anywhere else,” I said, but something caught my attention. My gaze shot to Rémi. My smile turned into the hardest of frowns. Rémi’s expression was harder.
“Oh mon Dieu, who is that?” asked Robert, fanning his neck dramatically.
“It’s not a who,” I said, glaring at Rémi. “It’s a what.”
“Then what is that?” asked Walter.
“A giant asshole,” I said.
“Is that your childhood sweetheart? Rémi? What happened to him?” asked Walter, knowing all of my stories.
“He changed,” I said. “And not for the better.”
“I don’t know about that. His ass is Adonis-like,” said Robert. He snorted out a laugh at my look. “What? You know Walter and I have a look-don’t-touch policy. I’m a one-man guy. Sophie, you should do something about that.”
Walter let out a groan. “The last thing Sophie needs right now is that kind of distraction. Look at her, she’s finally back. She looks great. She doesn’t have that crazed look in her eye. She looks happy.”
Admittedly, I watched Rémi’s ass as he walked away. No, I didn’t need that. For now, having my two closest friends in France was the best distraction in the world. It was nice bantering with them and, minute by minute, I was feeling back to my old self.
“Come on,” I said, locking my arms through theirs. “I’ll give you a quick tour and then take you to your room.”
19
joyeux noël
The sky darkened and thick clouds rolled in, giving the château’s grounds an ominous feeling. The leaves on the bushes and the moss on the trunks glowed with a haunting hue. A van rumbled down the gravel driveway, snaking its way among the plane trees. The doors opened. A ramp lowered. There sat Grand-mère Odette in a wheelchair dressed in her Chanel skirt suit with an orange Birkin bag on her lap, surveying all from behind large black Chanel sunglasses. I raced up to her and we swapped les bises.
“Clothilde told me she brought you your clothes this morning,” I said. “I’m so glad you’re home. It finally feels like Christmas.”
She lifted her shoulders into a shrug. “The doctor didn’t want to release me, so I discharged myself,” said Grand-mère. “I couldn’t stand another moment in that dreadful room—especially during the holidays.” She clasped her hands together and straightened her posture. “Unfortunately, I have to deal with this Agnès creature.”
She pronounced Agnès like ahn-yes.
“Who?”
Grand-mère tilted her head toward the van and scowled. “My dreaded nurse.”
A heavyset woman wearing thick-soled white shoes and pale blue scrubs jumped out of the passenger seat with two male aides beside her. In a flash, she disappeared, rounding the corner of the van to the other side. She had rosy cheeks, and kind but nervous brown eyes. Her brown hair was falling out of its ponytail. She was frazzled, as I could only imagine. When she made her approach, Agnès spoke softly. “We tried our best to keep her in the hospital, but she insisted on coming home. Actually threatened on having the hospital closed down if we didn’t comply,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m Agnès, you must be Madame Valroux de la—”
“Please call me Sophie,” I said, thrusting out my hand.
Agnès blinked repeatedly as she took it. “The hospital is afraid of lawsuits and I’ve been given strict instructions to stay with her,” she said, the quivering in her voice making it clear she was petrified of losing her job.
“We’ll have a room made up for you,” I said.
“But I have to be with her 24/7,” she said, her voice catching. “Is there a possibility to have a cot? Or is there a couch?”
“She has a full suite. We’ll work something out,” I said. “Thank you for taking care of her.”
Rémi opened the front door to the château and swaggered over to us. After glowering at me, he embraced my grand-mère. “I was finishing up the Christmas lights on the top floor and saw the van pull up. I’m so glad you’re doing better and you’re home, Grand-mère.”
“My darling boy,” said Grand-mère with so much sweetness and love, I cringed. “It’s wonderful to be home. I’d like to speak with Sophie and then I’d like for you to visit with me, d’accord?” She lifted her head toward me. “Oh, ma chérie, can you take me up to my room? I’ve had enough with this Agnès creature. She’s very bossy. And she isn’t family.”
Agnès blinked again and said, “Actually, Sophie, if you could take her up, that would be great. And, Rémi, if somebody could help us with all this equipment, I’d appreciate it.” She motioned to the machines and monitors and drips filling the inside cabin of the van.
“Did you bring the entire hospital here?” asked Rémi.
“Just what’s needed for her care.”
“Sophie,” said Grand-mère impatiently. “I’d like to be in the comfort of my room.”
“Yes, Grand-mère,” I said, gripping the handles of her wheelchair.
As I wheeled her up the ramp, Grand-mère asked, “Ma chérie, what in the world is going on between you and Rémi?”
“Rémi? There’s absolutely nothing going on,” I said, thinking, aside from the fact that he hated my guts.
“Ah bon, I see,” she said, her voice a question. “Sophie, he’s a good man, a bit rough around the edges and a bit of a loner, but a good man nonetheless. I think of him like a son.”
“But he isn’t family,” I said. “He just works here.”
“Everybody under my roof is family to me—especially Rémi,” she said. “His whole world changed when his parents died in that horrible car accident. He had nowhere to go, and I took charge of him.”
I froze midstep, almost launching my grandmother out of her chair. “What? When did this happen?”
“The fall after your last trip to Champvert.”
No wonder Rémi hated my guts. I’d just left him in Champvert after promising I’d come back. “You never told me this? I mean, I’m thinking it’s pretty important.”
“I
told your mother to tell you. She said the farm boy from next door was of no interest to you. She was livid I’d taken Rémi in and was more concerned with her inheritance. It was on this call when she told me you never wanted to see me again.”
“She lied,” I said. “I wanted to spend my summers with you more than anything.”
“I know, ma chérie,” she said. “But I don’t want to talk about Céleste. The subject upsets me,” she said, her voice shaky. “Tell me, what have you planned for the celebration?”
I swallowed back the information I’d just learned and told her about the menu I’d concocted, looking for her approval. “Is that okay?”
“Darling, you’re the seafood expert, and when I’m not in the kitchen, it’s yours.”
We took the lift up to the third floor. “The key to my room is on the ledge,” she said. “With all the guests milling about, I don’t take any chances. A few years ago, a very drunk and very naked man stumbled into my suite.”
I snorted out a laugh as I grabbed the key. “How—how enlightening?”
“It was quite the shock,” said Grand-mère. Judging by her tone, the incident wasn’t funny to her at all.
I stood in my grandmother’s room: similar to mine, but decorated in pale blues instead of greens—and nothing at all like the other rooms in the château. It was a time capsule from the past, photographs covered the walls and her dresser. Some of them were old and faded, yellowing at the edges from time, like the pictures of her and my grandfather on their wedding day. Although she still carried elegance and grace, she was drop-dead gorgeous when she was younger, especially in her lace wedding dress. I picked up the photo.
“Wow, you’re so beautiful,” I said.
“Not so much anymore,” she said. “But I was, as they say, quite the looker back in the day.”
“You’re still beautiful.”
“Ma chérie, you’re being kind,” she said. “As you are not blind, you can see that I’m not the woman I was in that picture.”
I ran my fingers across the image. “Grand-père Pierre was really handsome, too. He has broad shoulders, but holds them with grace. Kind eyes.” I paused. “How did you meet him?”
“Ah, well, that’s quite the story. It won’t be as romantic as you might think. My parents came from a powerful shipping family in Bordeaux. We also ran a lovely vineyard. One night, they had a large gala and invited everybody within the region, including Pierre’s parents. Pierre came along and, apparently, fell head over heels in love with me. A coup de foudre, he called it, a bolt of lightning that shocks the system. Love at first sight. I, however, didn’t feel the same way about him. I thought he was pompous. Plus, he was also fifteen years older than me.”
I’d always envisioned her and Grand-père having a whirlwind fairy-tale romance, the kind from the movies—filled with parties and champagne and dancing.
“But you married him anyway,” I said. “Why?”
“Our marriage was arranged,” she continued. “There were few options of proper women for Pierre to choose from in Champvert. It was decided we’d be a good match—a nobleman and the girl from a rich family. Plus, my parents wanted to get me away from one of the vineyard workers I’d fallen for. He was beneath my family’s social stature. Well, there was that fact, and also my parents’ shipping business wasn’t doing well. They needed money. I had to be the good daughter.”
“So you didn’t love Grand-père?” I asked, shocked.
“In time, I grew to love him as well as my life here,” she said. She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. “I miss him every day.”
I choked back my surprise. “I never knew any of this.”
“Alors, it’s not the kind of conversation one can have with a child. But you are an adult now—a beautiful young lady at that.”
“Do you regret not marrying for love?”
“Non, comme Edith Piaf chantait, non, je ne regrette rien.”
The lyrics to this song floated in my mind as I took in the life Grand-mère had carved for herself—how there were good things and bad things in the past. And how neither of them could affect you. How you could restart your life from ground zero. I knew the words to the song by heart; my mother used to sing it to me—on her good days, on her bad days, all the time.
“Bernard said he saw a lot of Grand-père in me.”
“I’m sure he was talking about your strength, the conviction in your eyes,” she said, clasping my hands. “I, however, see more of me in you.”
“Me, too,” I said, staring at the photo. I’d always wanted to emulate my strong grandmother, not my weak mother. Maybe now that she was home, some of Grand-mère’s strength would rub off on me. “I’ve always felt connected to you. But Grand-mère, I’m not feeling so tough lately.”
“Oh, darling, I’m so glad you’re back in Champvert, where you belong. You’ll find you’re very powerful. It’s in your blood. You can overcome anything.”
Maybe not anything. “I’m not exactly fitting in here.”
“But you will,” she said. “Take a look at the other photos. I’d like for you to remember the wonderful times you had when you visited with me. I think about them often.”
Pictures of me from every summer I visited Champvert were scattered all over her room, decorating her walls and her dressers. I didn’t even know she’d taken them. In one photo, I hung upside down from one of the willow trees, seemingly acting like a chimpanzee. In another, I licked a spoon, chocolate dripping down my chin. There was even a framed picture of me and Rémi. We were laughing with a big basket of cherries in front of us. All the pictures held one thing in common: they proved I’d been happy in Champvert. I wondered if I’d ever find that kind of happiness again. A surge of something sparked in my body. I wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe it was hope?
As I surveyed the shots somebody had captured of days gone by, I wondered why there weren’t any pictures of my mother displayed. The relationship between my grandmother and her only daughter couldn’t have been that bad. With her health on the upswing, maybe now she’d talk about it.
Agnès and Rémi walked into the suite, wheeling in equipment. Rémi grunted and pushed by me without an apology, almost crushing my feet with a heavy machine. I jumped out of the way just in time.
“Don’t worry, I can take things from here,” said Agnès, her eyes sweeping the room. “My goodness, this château is magical. You must love living here, Sophie.”
“I’m only a visitor for now,” I said.
“Then why have you invited male guests to stay on at the château?” said Rémi with a huff.
“Guests?” questioned Grand-mère.
“My two best friends from New York,” I said, turning my back on Rémi and facing Grand-mère. “I should have asked you if it was okay—”
“Oh, don’t be a silly girl,” said Grand-mère. “It’s a lovely surprise, and I can’t wait to meet your friends.” She straightened her posture. “One day the château will be hers and she’ll be staying here for good, Rémi. She can invite whomever she pleases to stay with us,” said my grand-mère. “Isn’t that right, Sophie?”
I didn’t want to upset Grand-mère with my indecisiveness when she was getting her strength back, so I simply agreed. “Yes, yes, of course.”
As I left her chambers, I felt like I was being forced into an arranged marriage to the life my grand-mère had created for me—a life I hadn’t worked for and didn’t deserve. I wandered to the kitchen, wondering if I could learn to love it here like my grand-mère had done with Pierre.
20
let the wild rump roast begin
By nine p.m., the party was in full swing, people sipping on the château’s ancestral-method sparkling wine and eating to their hearts’ content. There must have been close to two hundred guests. If I’d thought the château was magical before, I hadn’t experienced it at Christmas. L
ights twinkled, winding down the staircase and flickering everywhere, and the silver decorations on the tree sparkled. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a flute-playing faun jump out to join the festivities. I was thankful Jane had hired an outside staff to serve and man the party; after cooking up a storm, I could relax and enjoy myself. The château, along with all the Christmas lights and the roaring fire, had never looked so beautiful. As did my grand-mère, although she was a bit pale. Much to Agnès’s chagrin, she’d insisted on joining the Christmas revelry, and she’d worn an elegant silver gown. With a spark lighting her eyes, she said, “It was the only thing I had in my closet to match this dreadful wheelchair.”
“You look beautiful, Grand-mère,” I said.
“Merci,” said Grand-mère as she gave me the once-over. “And you’re quite the vision tonight. I’m glad to see your dress doesn’t have holes in it. You look lovely.”
I didn’t think she’d noticed my attire when I first visited her at the hospital. Apparently, nothing slipped by her eagle eyes, which were currently taking in every last detail of the party. I’d gone with a basic black sheath and kitten heels, which obviously Grand-mère approved of. “I threw those jeans away,” I said.
“Good,” she said. “Remember, you are a lady, not a tramp. You are a Valroux de la Tour de Champvert, and appearances must always be kept up.”
Walter and Robert sauntered over and hugged me. I introduced them to Grand-mère. Her eyes widened with surprise when Walter and Robert clasped hands, and then she said something that surprised me. “You two are a very handsome couple,” she said.
“It’s wonderful to finally meet you,” said Walter. “Sophie’s told me all about you.”
“I see,” she said, but was cut off.
People buzzed around Grand-mère, kissing her cheeks and then mine, while I stood awkwardly by her side, fidgeting.
“The buffet is incredible. Merci, Grand-mère Odette,” said somebody.
The Secret French Recipes of Sophie Valroux Page 16