French Cuisine Can Kill You

by Rebecca Dunsmuir

  An electronic voice announced that the train for Orvilly-sur-Mer would soon leave the station and that all passengers should get on board.

  "Oh my God! Hurry d'Art!"

  I don't need to hurry. You run ten steps when I walk three!

  A man wearing the station uniform saw Amanda running along the platform. He walked toward her, grabbed her suitcase, stepped up into the train and placed it in the luggage compartment.

  "Thank you so much for your help, sir."

  Amanda climbed the narrow steps into the train. D'Artagnan stopped on the platform when he saw them.

  "Come on, d'Art, not now, please!"

  D'Artagnan hated stairs, particularly small stairs. And these ones were the tiniest he had ever seen. Climbing them needed some preparation.

  Wait a minute, please. I'm still evaluating this move.

  "Come on. Jump! You can do it," said Amanda.

  Slowly, the dog put one front leg on the first step and suspended a back one in the air, unsure where to put it. Amanda pulled d'Artagnan forward. The dog was in! The door closed, and the train left the station. Just in the nick of time.

  Exhaling with relief, Amanda turned toward the long aisle that divided the passenger seats. Oh crap! she thought when she saw it.

  The passage was not much larger than the train door by which they had come in. Amanda held tight the noisy carrier tight against her body and walked carefully down the aisle to avoid hitting passenger's heads, followed by d'Artagnan.

  The travelers were amused by the intriguing trio, and some wondered what creature in the box could make such an unusual noise. Amanda found the four seats she had booked. They were facing each other, and would give her and her pets enough room to travel comfortably without bothering the other passengers.

  "Come here d'Art. Sorry, but I have to do this."

  Amanda slipped a muzzle onto the dog's head. D'Artagnan's eyes crossed over his trapped nose.

  What's that for? I didn't do anything. Put it on the weirdo yelling in the box!

  Bronx was moving in the carrier like a maniac, meowing with the full strength of his lungs.

  "I know, I know Bronx, this isn't fun," whispered Amanda, "but please, be a bit cooperative."

  "I can look after him, if you want," offered a woman in her sixties sitting on the other side of the aisle. She had grey hair pulled into a chignon, beautiful piercing blue eyes, and an inviting smile.

  "I love cats. I can keep an eye on him while you take care of your dog. My cat died a few weeks ago, and I miss him so much. I'd be happy to entertain him."

  "It's very nice of you to offer, madam, but my cat is not really... sociable."

  "Oh, don't you worry about that. I've met a lot of tough felines in my life. I have a thick skin, I’ll survive." The woman winked.

  Amanda looked at the rocking screeching carrier in front of her. She felt exhausted and would certainly enjoy a bit of rest.

  "All right, thank you so much, madam. What's your name?"

  "My name is Liliane. Liliane Réjean. What's yours?"

  "I'm Amanda McBride. Pleased to meet you, Liliane."

  The women shook hands.

  "I hear you have an accent, Amanda. Are you American?"

  "No, I'm Canadian."

  "Oh, your French is perfect, and your accent is so lovely."

  "Thank you, Liliane. So, here is Bronx." Amanda handed the box to Liliane. "Please, be very careful. Believe me when I say that my cat is not friendly. He has serious behavioral issues. Don't let him out of the carrier, even if he tricks you into it."

  Liliane took the carrier and looked through the transparent plastic door, tapping her fingers on it.

  "Oh, don't you worry, Amanda,” said Liliane. “Hello, kitty, kitty!"

  Bronx calmed down and gave a nasty look to the woman. What you're looking at, old hag?

  D'Artagnan's eyes lit up when he saw the carrier in Liliane's hands. Cool. Is she going to keep him?

  As the train left the station, Amanda settled comfortably in her seat and closed her eyes, hoping to enjoy a much-needed nap.

  Chapter 12

  F our hours later, the train reached its final stop: Orvilly-sur-Mer. Liliane shook Amanda's shoulder gently to wake her up. She had been sleeping soundly during the whole trip, and hadn’t opened her eyes for one second.

  "Amanda, wake up," said Liliane gently. "We have arrived. It's our station."

  Amanda woke up slowly and yawned, stretching her arms and legs. She looked by the window. "Where are we?"

  "Orvilly-sur-Mer," answered Liliane.

  "Oh, wonderful, thank you."

  Amanda stood up and took her coat from the overhead compartment. D'Artagnan was standing, waiting impatiently, ready to get out and move his numb legs.

  "Oh my God, Bronx. Where's Bronx?" said Amanda in panic, looking around her.

  "He's here. Don't worry," said Liliane. She handed the carrier to Amanda.

  "How did he behave? Did he give you any trouble?"

  "Absolutely not. I told him a lot of stories and he stayed quiet. He was real charmer. "

  Amanda was perplexed. "Really?"

  "Yes. Bronx is a lovely cat and such a wonderful company."

  Was the cat dead? Worried, Amanda looked in the box. Nope. He was not. Bronx was very much alive, quiet and still, looking at Amanda with a smirk of revenge. This couldn't be good.

  "Let me help you," said Liliane.

  The women walked down the aisle to the luggage area, pulled out their suitcases and got off the train. They walked along the platform where the atmosphere was radically different from the Saint-Lazare station in Paris. It was very quiet, with barely a soul around. The station hall looked like a cute little country house. There were a few wooden benches placed along the platform for travelers to sit on while waiting.

  "Are you here to enjoy some time off, visiting family or friends?" asked Liliane.

  "No family or friends. It’s my first time visiting Orvilly-sur-Mer. The reason why I’m here is quite an odd and complicated story. I don’t know yet how long I’ll stay. Sorry, I’m aware what I’m saying doesn’t make much sense."

  "No worries,” said Liliane. “You don’t have to tell me anything. A bit of mystery is always good.” The woman winked.

  "But maybe you can help me. I booked a room at The Little Norman. By any chance, do you know where this hotel is?"

  "Sure. I'm going in the same direction. We can walk there, it's not far. It’s the only hotel we have in Orvilly-sur-Mer, anyway. You know, Orvilly is quite a small village, less than a thousand residents or so. I know a lot about this place. I was born and raised here and worked at City Hall pretty much all my life before retiring five years ago. You can ask me anything you want to know about this village."

  The women kept talking and walking along on Brigadier Street, the main street of the village.

  Amanda was surprised to see how narrow the paved streets were. Everything looked so tiny compared to North-American streets. How could cars drive on such little roads? And the sidewalks weren’t large either. Two people, at most, could barely walk side by side. But the old houses with white walls and beams, typical of Normandy, were lovely.

  Amanda smiled. For the first time since she had landed in the country, she realized she was in France. Her long-awaited dream.

  Chapter 13

  A manda rang the little bell on the counter. A few seconds later, a short, plump woman in her mid-sixties opened a bead curtain and walked to the reception desk. She was fair-skinned with red cheeks. She wiped her hands on her apron.

  "Ah! You must be the little Canadian? We’ve been waiting for you."

  Why 'little?' wondered Amanda as she smiled and nodded.

  "So, you're traveling with your pets?"

  "Yes. Is it still okay if I keep them with me in the room?"

  "Oh yes, no problem. We have a dog here too. Titi."

  The woman pointed her finger at a tiny ugly dog with a ridiculous green rooste
r comb, sitting on a chair, resting on a pillow. He looked at d'Artagnan straight in the eyes, and growled at him viciously.

  Gee. What's wrong with him? thought the Great Dane, are they all like this here? I have enough trouble with one psycho.

  "Follow me, I'll show you the room."

  The robust woman took Amanda's heavy suitcase with a firm hand and went up a little staircase.

  "Oh, no, you don't have to do that," said Amanda, "I can carry it."

  "Nah! Don’t worry. I'm used to it. That's my workout."

  They stopped on the first floor, turned to their left, and walked down a yellowish carpeted corridor. The woman opened a door at the end of the hall on the right.

  "Here you go, miss. I gave you the biggest room so you can be comfortable enough with your dog and your cat. What's wrong with him?"

  Bronx had pressed his face flat against the transparent plastic door of the cat carrier, making his eyes look big and scary.

  "Oh, nothing, he enjoys doing this," answered Amanda.

  "Wow. Frightening little cat, you have there. By the way, my name is Régine. You'll see my husband Paul later. We’re the hotel owners. Make yourself comfortable and call me if you need anything. Just dial 0 on the room phone, all right?"

  "All right, thank you very much, Régine."

  Régine walked away, then she stopped and turned around.

  "Ah, forgot to tell you: we’re in Normandy, so it rains a lot. Make sure you always have a raincoat or an umbrella with you before you go out. The weather forecast announced a storm for this afternoon. I can lend you an umbrella if you don't have one."

  The woman went back downstairs, and Amanda closed the door behind her.

  "Well d'Art, it won't be much different from our rainy Victoria, right?"

  D’Artagnan was moving nervously around Amanda. Nope. By the way, remove this damn muzzle from my nose. Now, please.

  As if Amanda had heard the dog’s thought, she removed his muzzle. Then she opened the cat carrier with justified apprehension. The moment Bronx was freed, the cat launched himself like a cannonball and leaped about the room, emitting weird sounds.

  "Oh my God," whispered Amanda.

  D'Artagnan rolled his eyes. Damn. This cat is crazy for real.

  Amanda knew that Bronx would stop his ‘show’ at some point. Spending so much time in a box would make anybody crazy. So she decided to ignore his antics and make herself comfortable in the room.

  The double-sized bed with a high headboard had a thick mattress that looked comfortable, and was covered with a pink comforter with embroidered flowers. A massive cabinetprobably a Norman antiquewith mirrors on the front doors was placed against a wall beside the bed, and a chair and a small desk sat in a corner.

  The room was big enough to allow d'Artagnan to stretch his legs. The dog was actively inspecting the place, sniffing every inch of the floor, trying to determine which corner was best to settle down his headquarters.

  Bronx jumped up onto the windowsill that faced the bed and walked along the three windows that overlooked Brigadier Street. Ideal for observing the action in the street or napping in the sun.

  Amanda lifted her suitcase, put it on the bed, and removed her personal items to store them in the cabinet. It didn’t take long: two pairs of jeans, a few t-shirts, a white blouse, warm sweaters, a pair of rubber boots, her toiletry kit and underwear. It was all she had brought with her. Her suitcase was mostly filled with food, toys and care products for her pets. If Kate were here, thought Amanda, she would definitely be horrified.

  Then she placed four bowls with pet food and water on the floor. D'Artagnan rushed to his while Bronx was still making a show of himself, looking at something by the window, making loud comments. Amanda took a quick refreshing shower and got ready for her important appointment with Mr. Perrier, the notary.

  She looked forward to seeing this château.

  Chapter 14

  I t wasn't raining, it was pouring. Probably worse than any rainy day Amanda had ever experienced in Victoria.

  The notary’s office was only a few streets away from the hotel, so Amanda decided to run down there as fast as she could. Despite wearing a raincoat and rain boots on, and carrying an umbrella, Amanda was soaked to the skin when she arrived there. As she pushed open the door, she thought that the shower she had before leaving the hotel might not have been necessary.

  "You can put your coat and your umbrella over there, Ms. McBride."

  A woman behind a desk pointed to an umbrella stand and a coat rack in a corner. The moment Amanda turned her back, the woman leaned on her desktop to scrutinize her from head to toe. Her head moved up and down swiftly, her long pointy nose seemingly acting as a radar. "Mr. Perrier will be with you shortly."

  A few minutes later, a short, thin man wearing a well-tailored brown suit opened a large wooden door. He pushed back his glasses on his nose. "Ms. McBride, I presume?"

  Amanda stood up and walked toward the notary to shake his hand. "Yes. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Perrier."

  "Pleased to meet you too, miss. Please, come in."

  Amanda stepped into a large office with wooden wall panels. A strong lemon polish scent tingled Amanda’s nostrils.

  "Please, have a seat," said the notary. He pointed to an imposing leather armchair.

  Amanda walked on the thick red carpet and sat down. She expected the armchair to be cozy, but instead it felt quite firm.

  Mr. Perrier seated himself behind the desk and put his fingertips on the frame of his glasses. He read the label on a file that was on top of a big pile on his desk, and opened it. "Well, finally we meet, Ms. McBride. At some point, I thought we would never be able to find you. I'm glad you're here. Did you have a good trip?"

  Should she tell him about the psycho cat and the huge Great Dane she had been travelling with? Probably not. "Yes, very good, thank you."

  "All right, let's start then. But first, we need to go back in history: Mrs. Toinette d'Orvilly died a year ago at the age of 93. She was your distant cousin, the daughter of a great-great-aunt, on your mother's side."

  "Oh?"

  "We haven't been able to trace any other siblings or relatives of Mrs. D'Orvilly or of Mr. Edouard d'Alban, her second and last husband. All the relatives are deceased, and the couple didn't have children."

  "Ah."

  "When we traced the family tree on your mother's side, we realized at some point that a part of your family had emigrated to Canada and had changed their name once they arrived in your country, which is why it took so long to find you."

  "Oh, I see."

  "Probably because the name ‘d'Orvilly’ wasn't easy to pronounce, the customs officer in charge of newcomers that day gave your relatives a new name. Unfortunately, it was a common practice in the late 18th century. Canada was already a popular destination for immigrants, so the authorities didn’t take the time to think twice about it. That's why your mother's maiden name became 'Barber.'"

  "Why Barber?"

  "Maybe because the man had gone to a barber shop that day, who knows? Sometimes, the way customs officers chose the new names was completely random! Then, much later, of course, your mother was born, and later on married your father and took his name: McBride."

  "I see...”

  "Now, about the estate. As I mentioned on the phone, we're talking about a large property that has been in Mrs. D'Orvilly's family for several centuries. She took great pride in it, and took somewhat good care of it to a certain extent. But when her second husband died ten years ago, she lost interest in many things, including the castle."

  "Oh."

  "Now, what I strongly advise, Ms. McBride, is for you to go and see this property before you make any decision or sign any papers. Inheriting a big property like this one can sound romantic, but..."

  Amanda was replaying a few scenes of the Three Musketeers in her mind.

  "... in reality, it is another story," continued the notary.

  "Then I guess seeing
this property sooner rather than later is best,” said Amanda. “I was hoping that you'd have some time to go and visit it with me now?"

  Mr. Perrier checked his watch.

  "We surely can. But the weather might not make this visit very pleasant."

  It was still pouring heavily outside. The sky was obscured by dark clouds, and thunder was rumbling, getting closer.

  "That's fine," said Amanda. "I'm used to rainy days. British Columbia’s West Coast is known to be very rainy. And as I understand, so is Normandy.” She chuckled. “I’m already soaked, anyway. I can’t wait to see the castle."

  “All right then. Let’s go and see it,” said the notary. He opened a drawer and removed a key ring with dozens of keys.

  Lightning flickered, brightening up the office.

  Chapter 15

  T he windshield was obscured by the buckets of water that the sky was dumping on it, despite the wipers going at the fastest speed. From the inside, it looked like the vehicle was going through the big rolling brushes of an automatic car wash.

  Mr. Perrier drove slowly, his nose close to the steering wheel, squinting and constantly adjusting his glasses that kept sliding down on his nose.

  "Ah, here we are," he said.

  The car passed a metal gate and drove along the path that led to an edifice that dominated the landscape. A large, ominous, black shape got bigger as they approached. Mr. Perrier stopped the car.

  "Ready to brave the rain?" he asked Amanda.

  "I am!"

  They stepped out of the car. Their feet landed in deep puddles of water that reached their ankles. Their boots got stuck in the mud, making it more difficult for them to run.

  "Follow me, this way!" yelled Mr. Perrier.

  Lightning flashed, thunder exploded, and to make things even more difficult, strong winds turned their umbrellas inside out.