That evening they visited several different friends for a glass of champagne. All of their friends had insisted they bring Adorée along, and Philippe could not stop beaming at having the two women he loved in his life together.
The next day, the women did last-minute shopping in the morning. Adorée dashed off with a long list in her hand; Kat had just two stops to make.
She and Philippe had promised they would only exchange small gifts that did not include expensive jewelry. Definitely no rings. They both agreed that Christmas was not the time to decide the future course of their relationship.
As noon approached, they met at the market. While Philippe finished up, Adorée described to Kat the eating that would ensue once they arrived at Joy’s.
“Prepare yourself for feasting such as you have never done before,” she cautioned. “We used to have two meals, beginning Christmas Eve: one before we all went to la Messe de Minuit and one afterward. Truly a grande fête! But a few years ago everyone agreed it was just too much food. So we have Le Réveillon on Christmas Day now.”
Kat had asked Joy how she could contribute to the meals when she had received the invitation, and Joy had responded with her usual thoughtfulness. “It’s a main event, my dear. We want you to relax and enjoy it, and there will be plenty of opportunities for you to help, bien sûr. Philippe is responsible for the oysters, fish, and cheese. I’m sure he will want your help with that.”
After Philippe closed up his stall and loaded the food he was contributing into the car, they went back to the apartment and finished packing. Philippe was exhausted after serving the longest Christmas Eve lineups of customers ever. Before they drove off, he handed over the driving duty to Adorée and promptly fell asleep in the back seat as they set off for Sainte-Mathilde.
En route, Adorée regaled Kat with tales of Christmas from her childhood, many of them spent at Joy’s, as they had alternated the celebrations there with quieter ones at home.
“Sometimes we even went to Paris for Christmas and stayed with Oncle François et Tante Sophie. Sometime you and Papa should spend Christmas in Paris. It’s magic. The city feels like a small town with the lights and skating rinks and Christmas markets. C’est magnifique.”
By the time they reached the smaller roads leading to Sainte-Mathilde, a light snow was falling.
“Oh my! It’s almost as if this was ordered,” Kat said. “I love having snow on Christmas Eve.”
“It was a childhood wish of mine too, from all the American films I watched about Christmas,” Adorée said. “One that wasn’t often granted.”
“It may date me, but Miracle on 34th Street is one of the earliest movies I ever watched. I loved it,” Kat said.
Adorée grinned and said that the French version was also a favorite of hers.
The two women liked each other, and a bond was starting to develop between them. Kat appreciated how Adorée appeared to have accepted her as part of her and her father’s lives.
The snow was falling heavily now. Colossal, fluffy flakes danced and drifted in the air. The countryside was being transformed into a winter portrait of whites and silvery grays. Long white rows of trimmed lavender mounds stretched across the fields, and vineyards appeared to be draped in sheets, like the furniture in a summer house waiting to be opened and come alive for the season. It was growing dark now, and the dimming light lent its mystery to the winter scene.
Kat reached back to wake Philippe as they turned down the narrow road to the manoir, and a few minutes later, she called Joy to say they were turning up the lane. When they arrived, Henri was watching for them. He swung open the heavy front door just in time for the three arrivals to burst into the manoir, their arms full of packages.
Most of the extended family had already arrived and were gathered in the grand salon across the bough and bow-laden foyer, singing loudly as Sylvie played a carol on the piano. François was snoozing in a chair by the fire, oblivious to all the activity.
Picasso was the first to reach them, bouncing with excitement and indecision about whom to greet first.
“Ah, Pico! What a beautiful red bow you’re sporting.” Kat bent down to his level, setting her box of parcels on the floor so she could wrap her arms around him. Her reward was a sloppy Pico kiss on the cheek, making her laugh out loud.
Henri greeted them warmly and helped with the parcels.
As soon as Philippe set down the boxes of seafood and cheese, Antoine and some helpers instantly appeared to carry them off to the kitchen.
One of the young men helped Philippe fetch their suitcases from the car, and soon everything was unloaded and put into the right rooms.
Kat could hear pots and pans being clattered in the kitchen, and appetizing aromas wafted down the hall. “I can smell magic happening down there,” she exclaimed.
Joy rushed up to greet them, untying a starched white apron and revealing an elegant pairing of a red velvet skirt and a red-and-white silk blouse. She graciously accepted their compliments about her appearance and the scrumptious smell of the meal to come.
“D’accord! Magique, bien sûr! But now that you’re here, we will all pause for some champagne.”
Joy flashed Kat a quick look, telegraphing her delight that their problem with Idelle was over. “We have much to celebrate this day!”
With Adorée and Kat on either arm, she walked them around to greet everyone. As well as immediate family, there were cousins and second cousins whom Katherine had not met before. Adorée soon went off with the others her age, while Katherine tried to memorize all the new names.
“Joy, your crèche is fantastique,” Kat declared. Set up on a long table against one wall, the display was huge and enthralling. “Of all the crèches I have seen so far, yours is by far the largest and most beautiful. There’s a lot of love and family history in it. That’s easy to see.”
A few people stopped by to pick up their favorite santon and explain its story to her, then Joy put her arm around Katherine and led her to the great hall, which was decorated with boughs and evergreen ropes and a stunning twelve-foot sapin de Noël. The long banquet table in the center of the room was laid for le grand souper.
“Three white tablecloths, three candles, and the three saucers of le blé de Sainte-Barbe all represent the Holy Trinity,” Joy explained. “The seven dishes we always serve represent the seven sorrows of the Virgin Mary. Even though we aren’t a religious family, at the holidays we still follow the traditions of the church. Did you know we all go to the village church for midnight mass?”
Katherine nodded and said, “I’m honored to be included in all these traditions.”
“You’re family to us, ma chère.”
Back in the salon, Kat searched out François. He was still sitting by the fire, but his snooze was over for now.
“I’m in my usual spot, keeping warm,” he said, as she sat down next to him to chat. Katherine was pleased to see he appeared healthy and possibly even a few pounds heavier.
Sylvie walked around the room with a tray of champagne flutes, followed by her daughter and niece with platters of foie gras on toasts.
The children—the girls dressed in flounces of velvet or satin and the boys in dress shirts and trousers—were engrossed in jigsaw puzzles, card games, and quiet teasing. There was a lot of giggling.
“Electronics have been banished for the night,” Christian’s wife, Marie, said.
“No one seems to mind,” Kat said.
After some urging, Joy sat down at the piano, and the house echoed with song as she played carol after carol as it was requested. Singers wandered in and out of the rooms, sometimes stopping to chat. Kat commented to Adorée how well the youngsters were behaving.
“Oui! Children in France have that reputation,” Adorée said with a sly grin.
At one point François whispered to Kat and Philippe that he was slipping away
for another short nap. “It will be a long evening, and I will need my energy for the meal,” he said with a wink.
Offering his arm, Philippe escorted his uncle to his room, promising to come and get him when it was dinnertime.
“You need me for le cacho fio,” François reminded the room as they left.
Katherine was surprised when a group of Joy and Henri’s friends dropped by for a glass of champagne and to exchange greetings. They didn’t stay long, and Henri explained that in recent years their local friends always rented a small bus to take them on the rounds so no one had to drive and the celebrants were back where they were supposed to be for le grand souper.
At eight o’clock, everyone trooped into the great room, and Philippe went up to fetch François. With his silver hair smoothed back and a green cravat tied jauntily around his neck, the old man looked rested and as handsome as Katherine had ever seen him. He was greeted by his rambunctious six-year-old twin great-nephews, who led him to a log lying on the hearth. Together they picked it up and carried it around the table three times. Everyone followed behind.
“C’est le cacho fio, probably from an olive tree,” Henri explained to Kat. “They are the youngest and oldest here, and they will sprinkle the log with vin cuit—sweet mulled wine—salt, and bread crumbs and light it together while François says the ancient blessing in Provençal.”
Joy sidled in beside Kat and murmured a translation as François, and the boys put the log on the fire in the great hall and François blessed it:
“Christmas log,
Give us the fire.
Let us rejoice.
God gives us the joy.
Christmas comes, all is well.
God give us the favor to see the coming year.
And if we are not more,
Let us not be less.”
The room filled with cries of santé, and everyone moved to the table to look for their name card.
As they ate, her neighbors at the table took it upon themselves to tell Katherine the traditions that were being observed. Adorée told her that the table would stay laid for three days so the angels could have a feast too.
“And the fire burns for three days too,” someone else said. “We all make certain of that.”
Kat said, “It’s hard to believe this was once a simple meal served without any fuss.”
“That’s right,” Joy’s son-in-law, Christian, said. “Much has changed through the years, but one thing that hasn’t is that there’s no meat in any of the seven courses.”
Some dishes and breads had been set up on a buffet table, including two ornate china tureens, one for an aromatic soup of garlic and herbs and the other for a lightly spiced roasted chestnut soup. Other dishes included escargots, chard stalks in a white sauce, spinach au gratin, celeri à l’anchois, a white bean purée accented with herbes de Provence, and ratatouille. A salted cod dish in a rich red-wine sauce with tomato, olives, and capers was the highlight of the meal and served with small cross-shaped pasta.
“This is one of Maman’s specialties, la morue en raito, and we eat it at this meal every year,” Sylvie said as she held the platter for Katherine.
“I remember eating cod in le grand aioli for the first time with your family last June on the terrace here. It was delicious.”
“And what a lot has happened in your life since then,” Joy commented from farther along the table. “That was the day everyone here first met you, and now you are a member of the family.”
Seven local wines dotted the tables, and now everyone raised a glass to toast Kat and Philippe. Then Philippe took Kat’s hand, and they both rose and thanked everyone for their kind words. Katherine got quite emotional when she talked about how grateful she was for how warmly they had taken her into their family.
Someone said, “Bien, let’s eat,” and the focus returned to what was on their plates.
With eighteen people around the table and a fire blazing in the hearth, the ambiance was festive and the conversation merry. From time to time, someone would stand and recite a Provençal poem or begin a carol, and everyone who knew the words joined in. Katherine was reminded of an oil painting by one of the old masters of just this type of scene. Her heart felt about to burst with gratitude to be included. Her stomach was also becoming very full, but she knew that was the last thing she should say in France.
When the dishes were cleared, Adorée looked at Kat and grinned. “Get ready for it: les treize desserts—the thirteen desserts. They’re supposed to symbolize Christ and the twelve apostles, and you must have a bite of each. That’s the rule.”
Henri stood and, in a ringing voice, announced the arrival of “Les Treize!” The children applauded and cheered.
Katherine was anticipating rich pastries, so she was relieved to see they were quite simple offerings. Philippe and Joy explained their meaning as the dishes were passed around. “Pompe à l’huile is like a brioche, and we must tear it, not cut it; white-and-black nougat, which some say represent good and evil; dates, whose oval shape is purportedly the symbol of Christ; the four beggars—dry figs, raisins, almonds and hazelnuts—representing the religious orders of the Franciscans, Dominicans, Carmelites and Augustinians; fresh oranges, representing wealth in the new year; verdau—green winter melon preserved on straw; candied citron; dried plums; green and white grapes, which were stored hanging at the back of a cool cellar after les vendanges.”
The last dessert to be brought to the table was a large platter of winter pears and apples, after the highlight calissons, the local almond-paste candy from Aix, and pain d’épices, which Katherine called French gingerbread.
Once the table was cleared, a final course of coffee and digestifs was served.
François announced he was off to bed. “There was a day when this meal did not exhaust me but that is long gone. Pray for me at La Messe de Minuit, and I will see you in the morning.”
Everyone stood to bid him goodnight, and the youngest children were rounded up for bed as well, after placing their shoes in front of the fireplace.
“Père Noël will fill them tonight,” they assured Katherine, anticipation lighting their eyes. The older children began placing bright paper decorations and wrapped sweets on the sapin de Noël as part of the next morning’s surprise.
Some of the men started loading into their cars the boxes of food and clothing they had all brought to donate at the church. Joy suggested to the others that they might like a stroll before La Messe at the church in Sainte-Mathilde.
“I’ve got to walk off some of that meal,” Kat said.
“Imagine that we used to come back after Mass and start in with Le Réveillon, which is an even bigger meal. Now we save that for tomorrow,” Philippe said.
“Thank goodness,” Katherine murmured. “Thank goodness.”
The sound of excited children’s laughter woke Kat and Philippe early, and they smiled at each other through sleepy eyes. They folded into each other under the cozy duvet, and Philippe whispered, “Joyeux Noël, Minou. I am so happy to celebrate this special time here with you. You are giving meaning to all these moments for me again.”
“Merry Christmas, mon chou, and Joyeux Noël. You know I feel the same. Happiness is the gift you continue to give me.”
Kissing, they lay comfortably in an embrace. Philippe lightly ran his fingers across her belly and down. Kat closed her eyes and moaned softly.
They had drifted back to sleep when a light tap on the door and a cheery voice told them that a breakfast buffet would soon be served.
Kat emerged from the en suite shower to discover an envelope taped to the mirror, with her name on it in Philippe’s distinctive handwriting.
“What’s this?” she asked, taking it into the bedroom.
“It’s just a little extra something,” Philippe said with a wide grin.
Kat opened the envelope a
nd took out a photo of a young puppy, bright-eyed and fluffy, that looked like pictures she had seen of the young Picasso. “Is it Pico as a pup?”
“No. It’s your new pup.”
Kat looked at him, excited and confused. “Wha-a-a . . . ?”
“Well, it represents your new pup, I should say. A litter was born a few weeks ago, at Picasso’s breeder, and one pup is reserved for you. We will go at the end of January so you can pick him or her out yourself.”
Kat leaped on Philippe and they both fell back on the bed. “I can’t believe it! What an amazing surprise. You weren’t supposed to give me a big gift for Christmas.”
“I couldn’t resist. This is for all the love and patience you have shown in dealing with my problem. I couldn’t think of anything you would like more.”
Kat sat on the bed and cried. Happy tears covered her face for several minutes before she was able to speak. Each time she attempted to say something, more tears appeared. When she looked at the adorable pup in the photo, more tears appeared. Philippe sat beside her, handing her tissues, his throat tight with emotion and his eyes sparkling at her reaction, damp as it was.
“This is so wonderful,” she finally managed to say. “So absolutely wonderful—and so sweet of you. How exciting! We will pick him out together. I can’t wait.”
She bounced around the room and hugged him several more times as he reveled in her joy.
Her excitement echoed throughout the house as Kat shared the surprise of Philippe’s gift with everyone, including Pico.
The rest of the morning passed quietly. Kat decided everyone was still recovering from the exuberance of the night before and resting in preparation for what was to come. The adults exchanged small, thoughtful gifts while the children unwrapped new toys and games.
“Our family has always exchanged gifts on New Year’s Day,” Joy told Kat. “Christmas is more about family and food and less about gift giving. Still, we give the children something small they can play with.”
François invited Katherine to a game of bridge with two others at a table set by the fire in the library. Children were settled in various places working on puzzles, reading, or making up their own games. Philippe and Joy sat together in a quiet corner of the room, chatting and laughing as they enjoyed the scene unfolding around them.
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