The Handyman

by Susan Finlay

  Vanessa stared at him, her mouth open, but no words coming out.

  Josh didn’t wait for her verbal response. He turned again and dashed toward the center of town, then to the edge of the hill, without looking over his shoulder. He chuckled as he started up the hill. In those outrageous heels, no way could she keep up with him.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  JOSH OPENED THE front door of the troglo and strode in, tossing his duffel bag, shopping bag, and camera bag on the sofa. Wow, he thought, suddenly realizing it was super quiet. Too quiet. No dogs running to greet him or romping over each other. No Paulette toddling across the room to tell him how excited she was that he was back and asking after what he had discovered about her son. Well, maybe she and the dogs are in the kitchen, eating. They might not have heard him come in. He continued into the kitchen and looked around. The light was on—it usually was because it was dark in the back of the troglo. The cabinet wall was in its closed position, a good sign. Hmm. But no sign of lunch dishes, no sign of coffee in the pot. Of course Paulette might have cleaned up after lunch, or maybe she was waiting for him to get back before she ate. Upstairs, then? Yeah, maybe she was napping. The dogs might be snoozing with her.

  Five minutes later, he rushed down the stairs. No one was up there, either. No Paulette. No Gigi. No puppies. His heart raced. Get a grip, man. They’re around here somewhere. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and called Isabelle.

  “I’ll look around town. Maybe someone has seen her.”

  “Don’t you have to open the bakery?”

  “Not today. I don’t have anything baked.”

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot.”

  “Josh, why don’t you call Veronique? She might have heard something. They are friends.”

  “Good idea. I’ll call you back if I find Paulette.”

  “I’ll call you also, if I find her,” she said.

  As soon as he ended that call, he autodialed Veronique, having input her phone number in his address book.

  “No, I have not heard from Paulette,” she said. “I’ll check around and see if anyone has.”

  “Thanks. I’m really worried.”

  “You said the dogs are missing, too?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe they got out and didn’t come home. She may have gone to search for them. The last time I spoke to her on the phone—a few days ago—she told me she loved those dogs.”

  “She does. That’s a possibility. Thanks. I’ll look around the hillside.” He didn’t add that if she’d gone out walking on the hillside, she may have fallen. She wasn’t always steady on her feet.

  After he hung up, he wrote a quick note and left it on her chair in case she came home while he was out. He started to go outside, then turned around and went back to check the storage area, thinking maybe Paulette had gotten scared being home alone, haunted by old memories from the war time, and had taken the dogs in the back room with her.

  Nope, not there, either.

  Okay, gotta search the hill. Please let her be all right.

  He trudged outside to the east. While in the Boy Scouts he’d learned to track. What he was looking for were dog paw prints, shoe prints, broken branches, anything that indicated someone had recently walked in the area. So far, nothing. The sky was cloudy and he suspected it had rained earlier in the day, or perhaps the night before, which could explain the lack of prints.

  He changed directions, heading west now along the ridge where the troglo was located. He passed the troglo and kept going, farther than he’d ever walked in this area. The path sloped upward, taking him to the next ridge. Another troglo. He stopped and knocked on the door.

  A dog barked and scratched at the door from the inside. Josh waited. Footsteps. The door opened.

  “Oh, Josh-you-ah. You’re home.”

  He felt immensely relieved to find her, and she seemed okay, from what he could tell. He scratched his head, wondering what was going on. “What are you doing here?”

  “One of the puppies disappeared. I must have left the door open again. Gigi ran all over, sniffing around and looking for the pup. I could barely keep up. The other two puppies and I followed and found the adventurous little rascal up here, not twenty feet from this place.”

  “Is this the troglo where the old man had lived, where Gigi came from after he died?”

  “It is. When I got here, I was exhausted and out of breath. Didn’t think I could make it back home, collapsed down onto a tree stump. Gigi came over and licked my hands and urged me up. She led me to the door. It was slightly open—that’s probably how Gigi got out in the first place—so I let myself in. Don’t know how long I slept here on the sofa.”

  Josh nodded. One day, I was gone just one day. I find her gallivanting around the hills, getting into trouble. But at least she’s okay!

  “How did you find me?”

  “Determination. I kept walking. When I saw the troglo, I thought it could be the old man’s, but if not, whoever lived there might have seen you around.”

  “Did you find my Charles?”

  He gave a sheepish grin. “Not yet, but I’m ready to go on the next trip.” No need to tell her that Vanessa was in town and that he wanted to get the hell away from her. “Do you think you’re up for a train ride to Balazuc?”

  She smiled. “Where?”

  “Balazuc. It’s in the Tarn and Ardreche Gorges area of The Central Massif.”

  “Allons-y!”

  “Huh?”

  “Oh, sorry, dear, that means let’s go! I’ve always wanted to see the gorges. You might have to carry me down the hill to get to the train station,” she said, throwing him a sly smile, “but I’m going.”

  Gigi and her puppies jumped up and down around Josh, trying to get his attention.

  He stooped and lavished each one with hugs and kisses, then sat down on the sofa beside Paulette.

  “What will we do with the dogs?” Paulette asked.

  “Hmm. I’ll call Veronique and ask if she can stay with them or knows someone else who can.”

  While he rested before taking Paulette back to her own troglo, he made two calls, one to Veronique and one to Isabelle while he rested from the hike.

  Isabelle said, “Are you sure you want to leave while your ex-fiancé is in town?”

  “Definitely! One more reason to go. Paulette is excited about the trip, and Veronique said we can bring the dogs to her house. Paulette knows how to get there. We’ll go to the troglo, pack a bag for Paulette, take the dogs to Veronique’s house, and meet you at your home in about an hour. Is that okay?”

  “Oui. I’ll see you then.”

  “Is it a problem closing the bakery several days in a row? I didn’t think about that before.”

  “It’s all right. It was closed longer than that when Henri died.”

  “Well, this time you’ll get a bit of a vacation.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  After he got off the phone, Josh wrapped an arm around Paulette and started walking down the sloping trail back to her troglo, supporting her. Wow, what a view! Facing toward the town and the river at this greater height, he could make out the river, the church steeple, and the mish-mash of houses and businesses dotting the hillside and riverfront. The town actually looked bigger from above.

  “Are the dogs following us?” Paulette asked.

  He twisted his neck and checked behind them. “Yep. Gigi is keeping them in line.”

  “Don’t let me slip off the hill.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t. But promise me you won’t go wandering off again. It isn’t safe.” The dirt on the steep areas of the hill where the sun had dried it was loose in spots. His foot slipped a couple times, but he managed to keep himself and Paulette upright.

  When they reached the level meadow area where her troglo was located, he let out his breath, giving a sigh of relief.

  Five more minutes of walking and he could see the pile of rubbish that identified the troglo. He smi
led. Who would have thought how reassuring that pile could be?

  As they rounded the pile, his smile vanished.

  Vanessa. Goddamn it.

  She still had on the same dress, but now sported sneakers. Her arms crossed, she leaned against the troglo and glared at him as if he’d done something terrible.

  “What the hell—excuse me, Paulette—are you doing here?” he said.

  “I’m not giving up on you—on us—that easily. I always get what I want. You should know that.”

  Paulette moved from behind him, stopping beside him. “Who is she?”

  “Vanessa. My ex-fiancé.”

  Paulette squeezed his arm, but didn’t say anything more.

  “I checked around town and found out you were working up here for an old lady,” Vanessa said. “Why on earth would you do that?” She stuck her nose up.

  “She needed my help. I needed a job.”

  “You have a job. At the bank. Did you forget about that? Daddy went out of his way to bring you in and move you up ahead of people who have been there longer. This is how you repay him?”

  Paulette turned her head slightly to look at him.

  No pressure or embarrassment there. Nope, nothing like having your ex confront you in front of your new employer.

  “I assumed I didn’t still have that job, considering our break-up.” He rubbed the back of his neck. This was turning into one hell of a day. The rubber-band theory came to mind, unbidden—a couple of pulls forward, making progress with Isabelle and having another possible lead for finding Charles, stretching the rubber band and then— wham! Sock it to you, sucker.

  “Daddy told everyone at the bank that you were taking extra time off and will be back at work next week.”

  He sighed and said, “Well, I didn’t expect that. But don’t any of you understand what I’m going through, that I need time away from all of you? Time to cool off and think. Can’t you put yourself in my place?” He hesitated, thinking. Walking away from a good paying job was stupid, he had to admit. But he didn’t owe her father anything. The man had made it clear he was employing him for Vanessa, not for him. Tom Meyers’s daughter couldn’t marry an unemployed man or even one who was merely an insurance adjuster. Nope. She needed a husband who was a Manager. Everything about Tom Meyers, the Bank Executive, and his family was related to money and prestige.

  “Daddy said he’ll give you a raise if you come back next week and get your act together.”

  “A bribe? Get my act together? What about you? He still doesn’t see that you caused all of this by your reckless carnal behavior, does he?” He paused and closed his eyes. Reopening them, he said, “NO! I can’t accept that.”

  “You’re a hypocrite. You pretend to be self-righteous, that you’d never cheat on anyone. But you’re involved with that woman, the bakery-shop owner, aren’t you? You are cheating on me, you jerk. I talked to people here in town.”

  Josh clenched his fists together at his sides. Stay calm. Don’t let her goad you into something you’ll regret.

  “First, I’m not involved with anyone. We’re friends. Second, even if I was, it’s not cheating. You and I are not together anymore. For the last time, LEAVE ME ALONE!”

  She started to move toward him, then stopped as she saw and heard Gigi moving between them, growling, her back raised and her legs ready to pounce on Vanessa.

  Good dog. He didn’t dare say it, but he would give Gigi a good treat when they got inside the troglo.

  Josh took hold of Paulette’s hand and led her into the troglo. He stood aside, the door ajar, so he could watch what happened outside.

  Gigi kept her stance until Vanessa turned and skulked away, heading back down the hill on the path. When she was out of sight, Gigi and the puppies ran into the troglo.

  Josh closed the door, bent down, and placed his hands on both sides of Gigi’s head. “Good dog! You did great. How about a treat?”

  She wagged her tag and licked his face.

  “Come on, let’s go in the kitchen and get you something to eat.”

  “Are we still going on the trip?”

  “Yeah, we’re going. Can you pack your bag on your own, or do you need my help?”

  “I can do it.” She started up the stairs, then stopped. “Maybe you can gather up my medicines that are the kitchen counter top.”

  “Sure.” He made a mental note to lock the front door before they left. Paulette never locked up, but he wasn’t gonna take any chances with Vanessa in town.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  JOSH CLICKED ONE picture after another of Balazuc as the taxi neared the village. All the way through the mountains on the TGV train, he was glued to the window, taking in the magnificent scenery. Rugged hills, blue-green rivers, rocky cliffs, ancient villages. This was a photographer’s paradise. He couldn’t have asked for a better setting. At least Vanessa had done one thing right by him in bringing his camera. Pretty sad state of affairs to be more excited seeing my camera than my ex-fiancé. He shook his head, then stuffed his camera into its bag.

  The train hadn’t actually gone all the way to Balazuc. That meant they had to take a taxi the last forty-one kilometres from the station to get to Balazuc.

  The taxi stopped just short of the bridge into town, and the driver turned his head and said something to them in French.

  Isabelle said, “He wants to know if we want to get out and enjoy the view before we cross the bridge into town.”

  “Can we? Oh, that would be lovely,” Paulette said.

  “Sure,” Isabelle said and thanked the driver, telling him to remain for a few minutes.

  Paulette stumbled getting out of the car, but Josh was prepared and caught her elbow, steadying her.

  “Oh, magnifique!” Paulette said, looking around. She clapped her hands together and smiled, staring at the village set primarily on top of a rampart-like cliff, rising from the opposite bank of a stunningly blue river, trees and shrubs seemingly growing out of the crevices in the rock face and cascading over the cliff edges.

  Adjacent to the magnificent cliff, along one side, the road crossed the river, winding its way up a steep hill to the top of the cliff and into the town proper. A large stone house with what appeared to be shake roofing was perched next to the road down near the river’s edge. Another larger structure, possibly an ancient housing or business complex sat above and behind it on the next tier up. From there, the road snaked behind yet another even larger stone building on a higher tier of the hill, its tile roof level with the top of the rock cliff. The bulk of the picturesque village dwellings, almost all with white stone faces and pink and orange terra cotta tile roofs, sat cozily perched above the cliff on a gradual up-sloping hill, while a large church steeple placed strategically at the pinnacle of the hill claimed sway over the town. Josh was tempted to get his camera back out, but the meter on the taxi was still running.

  They piled back into the cab and as the vehicle lurched forward Isabelle said, “I read online that Balazuc was first inhabited in the eighth century. It’s incredible, but I’m worried, looking at its small size, that they won’t have a hotel.”

  “Yeah, that would be a problem,” Josh said, running his hand through his hair. “Guess we should have checked that out before we came here.”

  A few minutes later, the driver crossed the bridge, drove up the hill into town, and stopped the car. Josh paid and thanked him and grabbed their three bags from the trunk, handing one to Isabelle. Carrying his own bag and Paulette’s, as well as his camera bag, he followed the two women along an ancient-looking rough cobblestone lane, barely wide enough for a single car.

  The buildings here were tall and some linked by supporting stone arches, creating a cozy network of shaded walks. Josh, not wanting to miss anything, kept turning his head back and forth, taking in the ancient stone structures on both sides. Not watching his footing, he stumbled and pitched forward, bumping into Isabelle and almost knocking her down.

  “Oh, God, I’m sorry,” he sa
id. “I don’t mean to be such an oaf.”

  She looked at Josh, a grin pasted on her face. “You’ll get used to our uneven streets. It’s this way in most of the medieval villages. My brother and I had many falls when we were children.”

  Paulette said, “This village brings back so many memories.”

  “I thought you’ve never been here,” Josh said.

  “I haven’t, but it reminds me of a village I visited during the war. Soldiers had taken it over as they had in Mythe, but in that village the German tanks could barely fit on the roads. I remember soldiers with big guns standing on every street corner.”

  “Wow. That must have been scary.”

  “It was. The things I’ve seen in my lifetime . . . .”

  Josh waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, he said, “Anybody got an idea where we might find a hotel?”

  “The chateau,” Paulette said. “Most of the old villages have one.”

  Okay, that still didn’t tell him in what direction they should walk. He glanced at Isabelle. She shrugged.

  “We’ll follow you, Paulette,” he said.

  She grinned. “Maybe I can be of some use to you kids, even if I am old and decrepit.”

  Five minutes later, true to Paulette’s words, they entered the chateau and enquired about rooms. Paulette and Isabelle decided to get a room together, for which Josh was grateful. Not for the cost, but because he worried about Paulette spending the night alone in an unfamiliar place.

  They settled into their rooms and then met in the lobby a short time later. They’d agreed ahead of time to meet for dinner and then make it an early night, as everyone was weary from the long journey. Tomorrow morning, hopefully, they would find Charles Lapierre.

  After finding what seemed a suitable restaurant and being seated at a table, Josh ordered his dinner with the help of both women, including something called Pelardon, which Paulette told him was cheese. Paulette waited until he had eaten half of it, then informed him it was goat cheese. He made a goofy face, and she giggled. Yep, it was great having Paulette in good spirits. His dinner fare also included delicious fried sausage-like meatballs made from minced pork, herbs and, according to Paulette, chopped blette, or Swiss chard.