by Jamie Conner
No matter how many times Megan tried to get Mrs. Leroux to sit down and relax, she kept popping up from her chair and going into the kitchen to get another dish to serve them. Alfred had cooked a few things on Friday hoping that a full refrigerator would keep his mother off her feet — at least for a few days — but no such luck.
"I can't serve my guests food I didn't cook myself," is what she'd said to Brandi in French when she and Megan arrived for dinner. She then proceeded to bring dish after dish from the kitchen commanding Megan and Brandi to try everything she brought to the table.
"I don't think I can eat another bite," Brandi said in a whisper when Mrs. Leroux was out of earshot. "But I'm afraid to tell her no."
Megan just laughed.
"I know what you mean. I don't think she realizes it's only the three of us eating. She cooked enough food for a small army."
Megan peered into the kitchen making sure Mrs. Leroux was still occupied. Then she picked up a large spoon full of spaghetti off of her plate and put it on Brandi's. She cupped her hand over her mouth to stifle the giggle.
"Hey! No fair! It's going to take me a month at the gym to work all this off," Brandi complained as she looked down at her full plate.
"Maybe I'll help you work it off a little later." Megan winked and squeezed Brandi's leg under the table.
"Is that a promise?" she asked nuzzling her mouth to Megan's ear, then running her tongue around its ridges.
Megan wiggled in her chair thinking about what that tongue had done to her that morning. She was about to slip her hand between Brandi's legs when Mrs. Leroux reentered the room.
"Dessert!" Mrs. Leroux announced loudly.
There was no need for Brandi to translate that word into English as she'd been doing for the rest of the dinner conversation.
"Créme Brûlée!" Megan said as she clapped her hands with excitement.
Mrs. Leroux's face lit up with a grin as she spoke.
"That was Rachel's favorite too," Brandi translated.
A pensive and slightly sad look crossed Mrs. Leroux's face.
Megan and Brandi glanced at each other but didn't speak.
Since Mrs. Leroux had gotten sick just two days after Megan moved into the cottage they hadn't had much time to talk about Rachel. Megan didn't know how close the two women were but she was eager to find out more about her.
Mrs. Leroux set a dessert bowl in front of each of them. Megan stabbed the crunchy top of her créme brûlée and put a small spoonful into her mouth. A tingly rush went through her body almost as good as the tingles Brandi created with her tongue.
Mrs. Leroux watched Megan eat and then began to speak slowly giving Brandi time to translate each sentence in between bites of her own dessert.
"I make strawberry pies and a few other things too," she said. "But Rachel wouldn't' eat anything by my créme brûlée."
Megan could certainly understand why as she inhaled the luscious dessert.
"When did you and Rachel meet," Brandi asked.
Megan was glad Brandi was asking questions so she didn't have to stop eating.
"We met in 1992."
Megan's eyebrows lifted when Brandi translated the date.
Wow, she thought. That meant that the two women had known each other almost twenty-five years when Rachel died. That's a long time to have a friend and then loose her. Megan and Angie had only been friends for about six years and Megan still couldn't imagine life without her.
"We met when I was giving a concert in London."
It was becoming obvious to Megan that Mrs. Leroux's piano playing had been much more that just a hobby.
"Rachel was doing research on one of her novels," Brandi said and then paused waiting for Mrs. Leroux to say more.
"The Quiet Rose?" Megan asked taking a guess based on the year Mrs. Leroux mentioned.
"Oui. Oui! La Rose Tranquille," she said smiling.
Her gaze floated off in the distance as if the memory was replaying in a vision only she could see.
"Back then I used to travel a lot more than I do now. On this particular trip, some friends of mine came to the concert and they brought Rachel with them. She was renting a room from them while she wrote. The two of us hit it off very well and did quite a bit of sight-seeing together the weekend I was there. Then after I came back home to France we kept in touch, writing letters and talking on the phone occasionally. A few years after that she got an idea for a novel set in France and I suggested she come here for a visit. She stayed about a week and then went back to London, but she said the characters in her head didn't like the rain and wanted to be by the ocean. By then my husband had been gone for almost a year and Alfred was already living in Paris and starting his own family. So, I invited Rachel to stay here and rent the cottage. The extra money came in handy and she loved writing at the ocean. It took her about a year to finish the book and then she went on a short book tour. When the tour was over she came back to St. Amelia and never left. Until…" Mrs. Leroux fell silent. Megan saw Brandi, who was sitting closest to her, reach over and take her hand.
"Thank you so much for sharing that story with us," Megan said.
When Brandi translated the comment in French Mrs. Leroux just nodded her head and the three of them focused on finishing their dessert.
After dinner, Megan and Brandi washed dishes and cleaned up the kitchen while Mrs. Leroux told them more stories about her travels as a concert pianist. She'd instructed Megan to get a stack of photo albums that were on the top shelf of the hall closet and she thumbed through the albums showing them one picture after another of the places around the world she'd visited. Her husband had also been a musician and many of the pictures were of the two of them together. That is until about 1995.
Mrs. Leroux didn't tell them exactly how her husband died. All of a sudden he just disappeared from the photographs. There was one album almost completely filled with pictures of Mrs. Leroux standing alone or occasionally with a group of friends. Megan couldn't help but feel sad. By her calculations, Mr. Leroux had been just a little over fifty when he died. How sad, she thought. To lose a spouse so young.
"I recognize this building," Brandi said when Megan's back was turned to the sink. "Royal Albert Hall, oui?" she asked Mrs. Leroux.
"Oui. Royal Albert Hall." Mrs. Leroux confirmed and then continued speaking.
Megan turned to look a the picture just as Brandi was translating what she'd said.
"This was taken the night she and Rachel met," Brandi said.
Megan stared at the picture wide-eyed. It was the same photograph that sat beside Mrs. Leroux's bed. Megan wanted to ask more, but Mrs. Leroux had already turned the page and moved on to another story.
By the time they'd finished washing the dishes Mrs. Leroux was sitting at the table nodding. Megan and Brandi exchanged a quick look that said both of them agreed that it was time to leave.
"Do you want me to put these away before we go?" Megan asked pointing to the assortment of photo albums now strewn across the kitchen table.
Mrs. Leroux shook her head no and patted one of the albums like it was an old friend. Megan and Brandi hugged her good night and left out the back door.
"Well, so much for a night on the town," Megan laughed as the two of them stepped outside. " We probably better get to bed ourselves. Your flight leaves at 1 pm and you'll still have to go back to the hotel to pack."
"Oh, so that means you want me to spend the night at the cottage with you?" Brandi asked flirtatiously.
Megan shrugged pretending that she didn't care.
"I mean, if you'd rather go back to your hotel now, that's fine with me."
Brandi eased up behind her and put her hands around Megan's waist.
"I bet I wouldn't even get half way to my car before you pulled me back inside," she said nuzzling Megan's neck.
Megan just took her hand and began to walk down the path toward the cottage.
When they got inside Brandi pulled Megan close to her.
/> "Hey, what's wrong? You were awfully quiet on our walk back here."
Megan let out a sigh and rested her head on Brandi's shoulder. They stood there, in the middle of the floor, without talking for a few minutes.
"I think there's more to the story about Rachel Durand and Mrs. Leroux," Megan finally said.
Brandi's eyebrows lifted with curiosity.
"What do you mean more?" she asked.
Megan pulled at her lip as she tried to gather her words.
"Do you want me to kiss it out of you," Brandi joked, pulling Megan's hand away from her mouth and planting a long slow kiss in its place.
When they came up for air Megan had a slight smile.
"Well, that's not quite the reaction I was going for but…"
Megan's smile broadened and she leaned over and kissed Brandi again.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to put a damper on our last night together, but I just can't get something out of my mind."
Brandi just looked at Megan waiting for her to say more.
"When I was packing some of Mrs. Leroux's things to take to the hospital I found three empty drawers in her dresser."
Brandi hunched her shoulders.
"So, you're sad because Mrs. Leroux doesn't have more clothes?"
"No, silly. I think there used to be clothes in those drawers — just not Mrs. Leroux's. And that picture in the album of she and Rachel in London. She has the same picture in a frame beside her bed."
Brandi's eyes grew as big as saucers.
"Wait a minute! You think Mrs. Leroux and Rachel Durand were living together?"
Megan nodded her head.
"That's exactly what I think. I also think that's why Mrs. Leroux spends so much time making jam, playing the piano at the winery and anything else to occupy her days." Megan's smile disappeared again. "I think she's lonely not only because her neighbor died but because her partner did."
Megan watched Brandi as her theory sunk in.
"Hmm, I guess it's possible, but I'm not sure a few empty dresser drawers and a picture is enough evidence to prove that Rachel and Mrs. Leroux were lovers."
"Maybe not," Megan said. "But I just can't shake the feeling that I'm right."
"Well, if you are right, that's an even better reason for you to be here. You probably remind her of Rachel and she obviously likes having you around."
Brandi gripped Megan's chin between two fingers and turned her head so the two of them were looking directly into each other's eyes.
"Just don't get seduced by that woman's créme brûlée!"
Megan hit Brandi on the arm playfully.
"It would take more than créme brûlée for anyone to tear me away from you."
Brandi looked back at Megan, her face suddenly serious.
"I'm glad to hear that," she said and leaned in for a kiss that was passionate enough to move them from the middle of the floor to the bed to enjoy their last night together in St. Amelia.
Chapter 15
Brandi stared down at Megan's face as the first rays of sunlight spilled through the cottage curtains. She looked so peaceful, but Brandi was still a little worried about her. Megan had seemed so sad about Mrs. Leroux possibly grieving the loss of her lover. She has such a big heart, Brandi thought. She needed to do something to cheer Megan up.
Brandi slipped out of bed and tiptoed over to the desk where she'd plugged in her cell phone. She unplugged it and quietly took it outside. As she sat down on one of the lounge chairs she looked out over the property.
This is a gorgeous view, she thought. It would take quite a bit of work for her to find another property like this one for her company, but she was up for the challenge. After all, she certainly couldn't let Rousseau Development get wind of this piece of land. Even if Mrs. Leroux wasn't interested in selling, Megan had mentioned that her son was. It wasn't unusual for developers to use a strategy of pitting one relative against another in order to get a property owner to sell. In fact, Brandi had used that tactic herself on a few occasions — always comforting herself with the knowledge that she got the seller a fair deal in the process. But since she'd deleted the pictures of Mrs. Leroux's property she wouldn't have to worry about that pressure — at least not from Rousseau.
Brandi let the thought drift away and focused back on her reason for coming outside. She scrolled through her address book and tapped the telephone icon next to the entry for Air France.
"Yes, I need to change my reservation for a flight from Nice to Paris this afternoon. My name is Brandi Turner. What's the earliest flight you have for tomorrow morning?"
Brandi heard a squeal behind her and almost dropped the phone when Megan wrapped her arms around Brandi's neck.
"Yes. 6:20 am tomorrow will be fine," she said somehow managing to stifle her laughter. "Just put any additional charges on the same credit card."
Brandi hung up the phone and looked over her shoulder at Megan.
"So, you're stuck with me for another day," she said with a grin. "How about some sightseeing? I know a beautiful place not too far from here where I think you'd enjoy spending the day."
Megan turned and looked at Brandi. "I'll enjoy wherever we go because you're there." She kissed Brandi and then the two of them scurried inside to get dressed.
***
They'd driven about forty miles northeast of St. Amelia when the tree lined roads opened up to reveal beautiful fields of yellow, orange and pink flowers.
"Oh my goodness!" Megan exclaimed as she turned around in her seat to get a better view of the field they'd just past. "This is beautiful! Where are we?"
"Welcome to Grasse, France," Brandi announced with a wave of her hand. "The perfume capital of the world. I thought maybe we could go on one of the perfumery tours and create our own special fragrance. Megandi or Brandigan. What do you think?"
"I think you're silly," Megan said with a laugh and then went back to gazing at the flower fields they were passing. Then all of a sudden Megan spun around in her seat. "Wait a minute! Galimard Perfumery!" she exclaimed. "Mrs. Leroux had some perfume in her bathroom with that name on it."
"Alright, then. To Galimard Perfumery we go!"
As many times as Brandi had driven through Grasse, she'd never stopped to visit one of the perfumeries and she was excited to share the new adventure with Megan. When they arrived at the perfumery the nose, the lead perfumer, took them on a tour of the facility where they saw how the perfume oils were pressed from the various flowers picked from the fields right on the premises.
"Perfumes are made up of notes," the tour guide said in a very formal tone.
Brandi and Megan glanced at each other and tried not to giggle. It was obvious that this man took his job very seriously, but it was a little hard to keep a straight face while listening to someone with The Nose printed on the name tag pinned to his lapel.
The Nose continued talking. "When you're creating a perfume you have to choose the correct top, middle and bottom notes in order for the fragrance to work. Combine the wrong notes and you'll be left with something that's only suitable for repelling bugs."
Brandi looked over at Megan who was biting her lip to keep from laughing.
"I don't know, I've always been a fan of the smell of RAID," Brandi whispered causing Megan to lose it.
The nose glared at them with disapproval until their giggles subsided. For the next forty-five minutes, the nose lead them through the steps required to make their own fragrance. By the time they'd smell most of the 127 different notes, Brandi was tempted to just choose one that smelled like strawberries and call it a day.
"Ladies, make your selections carefully. Your perfume will be numbered after you finish and kept on record so that you can order your fragrance from our website whenever you'd like."
"Oh! What if I know of a perfume that was created here, but I don't have the number it was given. Do you keep records based on the name of the person who created it."
"Yes. We can look up that information here at the per
fumery, but if you're ordering online you'll have to have the perfume number."
"Can you check and see if you have a perfume listed under the name Beatrice Leroux?"
The Nose nodded and went over to a computer in the corner while Megan and Brandi continued choosing notes for their own fragrance.
"I'm sorry, Madame. I don't see anything listed under that name."
Megan let out a disappointed sigh.
"Can you check the name Rachel Durand," Brandi asked.
The Nose stepped away again.
"Wow. I hadn't even considered that the perfume might be Rachel's," Megan admitted.
"Well, if your suspicion about their relationship is right maybe the perfume wasn't Mrs. Leroux's after all."
"Madame. I've found the reference number connected with that name. Rachel Durand, 364 Route Bleue, St. Amelia."
"That's it!" Megan exclaimed excitedly. "Can I order some of that fragrance?"
"Yes, Madame. And would the two of you also like me to put in an order for the scent you created today?"
Brandi took a whiff of the concoction she and Megan had made and then handed Megan the bottle. Megan's nose curled as soon as she smelled it.
"I think we'd better stick to making jam. I don't think we quite have what it takes to be perfumers."
The two women burst out laughing and the Nose just looked at them with a stone face and then walked away to fill the order they requested.
***
When Megan and Brandi got back to St. Amelia from Grasse, they decided to spend the night in Brandi's hotel suite. Megan could hardly believe it had only been a week and a day since she and Brandi had been reunited now she could hardly imagine her life without her. She gazed down at her sleeping lover as the bell in St. Amelia's Cathedral tolled four times.
The place where the hours invite us to dream.
But this was much more than a dream. This was a dream come true.