The notary had a good reason to rejoice too as he had gained a new client. Amanda had asked him to remain as the financial manager for the d’Orvilly estate and he had gladly accepted. She didn’t want to deal with the mountain of paperwork and documents related to the property, nor fight with French administration, which had such a bad reputation. If Toinette d’Orvilly had kept him as an advisor for so many years, the man must be good at his job.
It was done. Amanda was now the owner of the medieval castle. The d’Orvilly estate was hers, and she also had 2 million Euros in her bank account. Crazy. Realizing all this made her feel tipsy, and it wasn’t because of the champagne. But she didn't want to lose one second of getting to the next stage: revamp her ancestors' castle. She was aware that a lot of work was needed to make her French dream come true the way she imagined it.
“Mr. Perrier, do you know of a construction company in the area that has a good reputation?” she asked, “I will need their services. I also would like to meet with an architect. The castle needs renovations, but as you know, I have this inn business in mind so I need to meet with professionals to explain my project and see what’s possible or not. Ah, and I should probably meet with a landscaper too. I’d really like to get started as soon as possible.”
“You know, as we’re a village mostly surrounded by countryside, you’d have to travel three hours to the next big city if you want to meet with several companies and make your choice,” answered the notary. “I’m afraid you don’t have much choice but to hire local people if you want to move fast. But I have three names for you: the only architect in the village is Delphine Montel, Auguste Barbon owns the construction company that has done all the major and minor work around here for decades, and I know of a young man who just started his landscaping business, Antoine Verroyer. I’ve hired him a few times to take care of my garden, and he did excellent work. I’d like to support him and send him new clients.” The notary walked to his desk, opened a drawer and removed three business cards that he handed to Amanda.
“Wonderful! Thank you so much, Mr. Perrier.”
The notary took the bottle of champagne and refilled Amanda’s glass. Although she held up a hand in front of her to stop him, Mr. Perrier had already filled it. He raised his glass and tapped hers.
“Dear Amanda, I wish you all the best as the new owner of the castle. Here’s to the success of your inn project!”
Chapter 25
T o be efficient, Amanda decided to meet Delphine Montel, the architect, Auguste Barbon, the owner of the construction company, and Antoine Verroyer, the landscaper all at the same time. They were all waiting for her at the arched gate of the estate, below the sign 'Domaine d'Orvilly.'
"Good afternoon, I'm Amanda McBride, the new owner of the castle."
They all shook hands, except for the tall, slim woman with a stern expression, who stepped forward from the group. She looked at Amanda coldly.
"Delphine Montel, architect. May I ask, Ms. McBride, did you buy the castle?"
"No, I didn't buy it. I inherited it."
There was an awkward silence, and a few sideways looks.
"Ah..." said Auguste Barbon, the owner of the construction company, a tall and robust man with a big mustache ending in pointy and curved tips, "are you related to the d'Orvilly's? Because, obviously, with your accent, you're not from here. I've been told you're from the United States?"
It appeared that news travelled fast in Orvilly-sur-Mer… but in the wrong way.
"I'm Mrs. D'Orvilly's heiress. I just arrived here a few days ago. But I'm from Canada, sir, not from the States."
"Ah," simply said the contractor who didn't seem to care a bit about this important detail.
"Anyway," continued Amanda, "I thought that it would be easier to meet with you all at once because I'd like to start some renovation work as soon as possible. I need to know what can be done or not with the property. Shall we start the tour?"
They all followed Amanda along the main path that lead to the castle.
"I plan to turn the castle into an inn. I'd also like to open a restaurant and an antique shop."
Amanda noticed that the only one smiling and showing some enthusiasm to do the tour was Antoine Verroyer, the young landscaper.
"First, I'd like to have some landscaping done. Obviously, a lot of clearing is required because this estate hasn't been maintained for years. Some parts are even dangerous to walk on. I'd like to keep the trees, but would it be possible to create some nice flower beds to make this lane more welcoming?"
Antoine Verroyer scratched his head. "Sure, madam, I don't see why not. I could suggest a few possibilities. Do you have a preference regarding the flowers and the design you'd like to have on the front?"
"Not really... Could you do a few sketches for the design and give me a list of the plants you'd recommend for the beds, and then we'll see?"
"Sure, madam, I can do that."
"Now, as the castle will be turned into an Inn, I'll need parking for my visitors. Where would you suggest we build it, Mrs. Montel?"
The architect stopped and scanned the land from the gate to the castle. "The front gate being the only possible access to the property, I'd suggest setting a parking area close to the north side of the castle, on the far right. This way, your customers will be close to the building, but the parking lot won't look too obvious if you put it on the side. You can make this area look nice with some landscaping work, hiding it with shrubs maybe. Just a suggestion." She glanced at the landscaper.
"That sounds like a good idea," answered Amanda. "Now, let's go and have a look at the old garden in the back, and then we'll let Mr. Verroyer inspect the ground by himself for his landscaping work, while the four of us start our visit inside."
"Hmm, Ms. McBride," said Barbon, playing with his moustache, "just checking with you, but did you contact the mayor's office about the changes you're planning on making on this property? The municipal services office must approve any major changes you want to make. Or not."
Amanda blushed. "Oh, I have to say, no, I didn't... I feel stupid now. I hadn't thought of this at all, I'm sorry, I'm new here and—"
"Call the mayor," said the architect with a dry tone. Delphine Montel took a little notepad from her bag, wrote down something on the first page, tore it off and handed it to Amanda. "Here's his office phone number. There's no point in us wasting our time with a tour if the mayor isn't even aware of what you're planning on doing here. Call us when you get an approval. If you even get one."
The architect walked back to her car and left the property without even saying goodbye. Not saying a word either, Barbon waved a nonchalant hand and jumped into his truck, leaving Amanda and the young landscaper on their own in front of the main door.
Amanda was speechless. Were all Normans as rude as this when making business deals?
Embarrassed, Antoine Verroyer smiled shyly. "You shouldn't worry, Ms. McBride. These two have the reputation of being a bit... 'crusty.' But I’ll gladly have a look at your property."
Chapter 26
A manda was waiting in a chair, holding a file with important documents that Mr. Perrier had helped to put together within a few hours. She was nervous, tapping her feet on the floor. What if the mayor refused to give her a building permit?
She noticed the feet of the mayor's assistant, whose desk was a few steps away from her. The little light blue pompoms at the top of her flat shoes were bouncing as she was typing on her keyboard. A plaque with her name and her position, 'Joséphine Perrin, Assistant' was displayed on her desktop.
"The mayor will see you shortly," said the woman.
The door beside the assistant's desk opened.
"Ah! Ms. McBride. Come in."
The tall and hefty man with curly red hair gestured with his left arm to invite Amanda in his office. "Please, have a seat."
A crooked official portrait of the French President hung behind the mayor's desk. The large desktop was covered with piles of files
and papers, and the rest of the room looked like an attic. Everything seemed upside down. Amanda wondered how and why some of the items had landed in this office, like a bicycle wheel stuck between two piles of books. Apparently, the man had some issues getting organized... or he liked it better this way. Either way, it was far from the Canadian model of office management that Amanda knew.
"What can I do for you, Ms. McBride?" The mayor sat far back in his chair, making it swing back and forth, crossing his hands on his stomach, squinting and waiting for an answer.
“I'm Mrs. Toinette d'Orvilly’s heiress. I just signed the paperwork to inherit the castle."
"Hmm, hmm," merely said the man.
"I want to start some work on the property as soon as possible. My plan is to transform the castle into an inn with a restaurant and an antique shop. But it needs considerable renovations before it can be turned into a business and used as accommodations."
"Hmm, hmm."
"So I have prepared a file regarding the project so that you can have a look at it. I’m requesting a building permit."
The mayor took the file and opened it, had a quick glance at each page, closed it, and put it on his desk.
"The ghosts don't scare you?"
"Pardon me?" asked Amanda, a bit disturbed by the question.
"The ghosts."
"Huh... I've heard about these ghost stories, but frankly, Mr. Mayor—"
"Call me Charles. Everybody calls me by my first name here."
"All right, Charles. I've decided to ignore these ghost stories. I understand that they're part of the local folklore, but I can't base my decisions on ghost stories."
"Hmm, hmm..."
What kind of “hmm, hmm” was this? Good or bad? It was hard to read the man.
"Well, Ms. McBride, I don't see any reason why your request to start the renovations should be declined. Chances are good that they'll be approved by the offices concerned. You'll have to file more paperwork though. That's French administration. Always more paperwork and forms!" The man laughed loudly. His powerful laugh resonated in the office, and his joined hands on top of his belly moved as his body shook. "All right. I'll take care of this and will call you as soon as the papers are ready. You're staying at The Little Norman, right?"
Amanda looked surprised. Nothing could be hidden here. The village lifestyle, she guessed. "Yes, I am."
"Ah, good people, Régine and Paul. Good choice. I bet they're treating you well."
"Oh, yes, of course they are."
What other choice did she have, anyway? It was the only hotel in the village. The man stood up and accompanied Amanda to the door.
"No worries, I'll take care of this, little mademoiselle."
This 'little' again? Amanda was aware that she was only 5'3, but still, Orvilly-sur-Mer wasn't exactly a village of giants. Why did they all call her 'little?'
The Mayor closed the door behind her and Amanda felt relieved and surprised that all had gone so smoothly. So why did Delphine Montel, the architect, make it sound like it would be difficult to get the mayor's approval to start the renovation work?
Chapter 27
T wo days later, Amanda received her building permit, and work on the property was scheduled with a local contractor.
On a chilly morning, humid but not rainy, two white trucks with the red inscription 'Barbon Brick and Mortar' were parked in front of the castle. Auguste Barbon barked orders to his twenty employees on site who had already begun to install high scaffolding along the castle's facade.
"I want everybody to wear their safety helmet and belt at all times," yelled Barbon, "no exceptions!" The man unrolled a large sheet of paper on top of a board on trestles beside the truck, and waved a hand at a worker. A short and chubby man with dark hair, probably in his early thirties, walked quickly toward Barbon. "Martin, take the new guys with you to clear the ground of that messy area over there. It will be the parking lot. I can't even walk there, I'm allergic to these damn weeds, so I'll let you deal with that. We need to clear enough for a surface of 20 meters by 10 meters. Then install scaffolding on the side and on the back of the building. And I'm not joking about the safety rules. Make sure you brief your young guys properly about this. You got me?"
Martin nodded and walked away, hands in his pocket. "Yeah, damn safety rules again..." mumbled the man. He joined a group of young men who were waiting for him, all in their early twenties. He told them to take some tools from the trucks and to follow him.
Meanwhile, Antoine Verroyer, the landscaper, was already working hard on the north side of the property, pulling up weeds energetically with a big power rake, and gathering them in a pile. He paused for a few seconds to wipe his forehead with his forearm, carefully avoiding any contact with his gloved hands. Then he walked to his truck to grab a canister, and went back to his working area. He sprayed the cleared ground generously and put the canister back in his truck.
A black Mercedes entered the property, drove slowly along the main path, and stopped in front of the castle. Delphine Montel, the architect, stepped out of her car holding several rolled blueprints under her arm. She briefly shook hands with Barbon. Martin Plouque, who was just a few feet away from them, gave them a sideways look, and paid attention to their discussion.
"All is good here?" asked the architect.
"All is good," answered Barbon, "these are the new plans?"
"Yes." Delphine Montel handed the rolled papers to the man. "We should be fine. The changes shouldn't make a big difference. I suggest that you have a look at them right now and call me immediately if you have any questions."
The loud thud of an object falling to the ground interrupted their conversation. A panel of wood had fallen from the scaffolding, landing just beside the architect's car, missing it only by a few inches.
"Are you kidding me?" yelled Delphine Montel, running to her car and looking up at an employee who was standing on the scaffolding next to the car. She checked her vehicle. It didn't have a scratch.
"Barbon! Brief your guys about safety again, dammit!"
"I did and always do!" barked Barbon.
The architect stepped into her car and left the property, driving fast on her way out, leaving clouds of gravel dust behind her.
Barbon grumbled and raised his head at the workers on the scaffolding, shaking his fist at them.
"I swear I'm going to kill you guys if you aren't more careful! How many times do I have to tell you about safety on site?"
The man kept mumbling while rubbing the tip of his mustache. “Stupid idiots...”
A taxi arrived and stopped in the lane. D'Artagnan jumped out of the car, followed by Amanda holding a meowing pet carrier. The taxi driver went to the trunk and removed several grocery bags.
"Hello, Mr. Barbon!" yelled Amanda, smiling and waving a hand at the man.
"What the heck is she doing here, this one?" he muttered to himself. He walked toward Amanda. "I'm not sure it is a good idea to be here while we're working. It can be dangerous."
"You're working on the outdoors only for now, right?" asked Amanda.
"Yes, but—"
"Don't worry, I'll be inside for a short time, and I'll be very careful. I just need to do something that I haven't done for a while."
What the heck could that be that she has to do it here and now? thought Barbon, walking back to his table, mumbling and shaking his head.
The taxi driver followed Amanda to the kitchen, followed in turn by d'Artagnan who couldn't help sniffing the grocery bags. The man put the plastic bags on the kitchen table.
"Here you go, miss."
"Thank you so much," said Amanda as she paid the man.
"Thanks. And good luck with the renovations!"
Bronx was protesting against his captivity with loud meows.
"I know, Bronx. Just a few seconds and you'll be free."
Amanda closed the kitchen door and put the pet carrier in a corner, and opened its door. D'Artagnan was watching Amanda, rolling his e
yes.
No! Don't do that, please! Don't free this freak!
Bronx stepped out of the box and began to explore the room. The cat walked by d'Artagnan, brushing him provocatively with the tip of his tail, and looked at him with a sadistic smile. One day, you’ll end up in this tiny little box, and it will be the best day of my life.
Amanda took her Ginette Mathiot cookbook out of her handbag and put in on the counter. She opened it and flipped the pages quickly. "Ah! Here it is... We're all going to stay in the kitchen for a couple of hours, and then we'll go outside to get some fresh air. All right?"
D'Artagnan looked disappointed. Indoors, again? I hope that you have a good reason. Like preparing some food?
Amanda emptied the grocery bags onto the table: two dozen red apples, a box of eggs, a package of flour, a package of sugar, a little plastic bag of ground cinnamon, butter, sour cream, and a small bottle of Calvados. D'Artagnan sniffed each item carefully. The meat? Where's the meat? Did you forget the meat?
"I'm going to cook a traditional Norman apple pie, aren't you happy d'Art?"
No! I want meat!
"You're going to love this."
Bronx walked on the table, looked with disdain at the items, then waved his tail in the air, in a very mischievous mood. Why does nobody ever care about what I like?
"I know what you're going to do Bronx. Don't you dare—"
Amanda hadn’t even finished her sentence before the cat gave a hard swipe to the apples with his paw, hitting them like golf balls with a club. The fruits rolled and fell on the floor.
"—do it. Okay... I see that someone is still angry at me. That's fine. I get it. If I were kept in a box, I wouldn't be happy either."
The cat sat on the counter and watched Amanda pick up the apples. This is just the beginning. Then he jumped from the table to investigate some empty wine bottles in a wooden box left in a corner.
D'Artagnan frowned. You, psycho cat! The dog carefully stayed away from him, on the opposite side of the kitchen.
French Cuisine Can Kill You Page 9