Amour Provence (29 page)

No cars were on the road behind her. She thought of the spa again and the rather sad town of Mondraque, where there was no nice place to eat. But she'd be drinking sulfur water that would probably kill her appetite anyway, so the quality of the food wouldn't matter. She thought of the masseuses with their pale muscular arms who trod across the white tiles of the underground area where the sauna and the steam rooms emitted their hot vapors.

Berti looked up at the road signs once more. And then she started the car and put on her directional signal even though there was still no one behind her. Then she turned, not to the left toward Mondraque, but to the right, in the direction of the three villages. As the road before her ascended, rocky promontories on either side hemmed her in. Then all at once the vista opened up and she found herself above vast, airy fields with the wide, cloudless sky overhead. Just opposite loomed majestic Mont Ventoux, the mountain that had been the stable, unwavering point during the whole of her young life. As she gazed around her Berti felt that even though she'd taken that route many times, she was in the midst of a journey to someplace new.

When she arrived in the town of Sault, she parked along the ramparts. The café stood on a promontory overlooking the fertile valley. Its cheerful green-and-white awning luffed in the breeze. She decided she would stop for a coffee there if she didn't find what she was looking for. In the meantime, she made her way along the
grande rue
, which was in actuality not much more than a lane with a newsstand that sold postcards and a
quincaillerie
whose baskets, brooms, and
other household goods were hung on hooks outside the doorway.

And then she saw the shop she'd hoped to find. The head of an antlered stag was stenciled on the front window with the words
LE CERF: BOUCHERIE TRAITEUR
inscribed in a circle around it. When she pushed open the door, a small bell on a metal coil jingled. The salty-sweet smell of hams and a hint of black truffle pervaded the air along with the honeyed perfume of caramelized fruit. From the timbered ceiling hung dried sausages and cured legs of boar wrapped in a plethora of dried herbs. Inside a glass counter were crusted meat pies and terrines displayed on white paper doilies. A rack attached to the stone wall held mountain liquors made from juniper and wild herbs. Berti smiled when she saw a bottle of Domaine des Amouriers, a wine made by a vintner who had been a close friend of her mother's, displayed in a wicker basket. For the first time in ages she felt that it would be nice to drink a glass of wine.

The owner came in from the back dressed in a white apron tied over one shoulder. He was a fit man of about forty with a short black beard that stuck straight out from his face like boar bristles. When he greeted her she suddenly remembered his name was Laurent.

“It's been a while since you passed by here, madame,” he said.

“Yes, several years, I'm afraid,” Berti replied.

“Well, welcome back. What would you like today?”

Berti leaned over the glass case. She chose a pâté of pheasant and several slices of
jambon fumé
. “I would like
one more thing to round out the meal,” she told him. “What do you suggest?”

Laurent pointed to a mushroom terrine. “This would go well. And there's something else you should try. This morning my wife made
petites tartes
with wild strawberries. Would you like one?”

“I'll take two, please,” said Berti. “And a bottle of Les Amouriers as well.”

Laurent wrapped everything in packages of wax paper stamped with the same image of the buck pictured on the front window. He put the tarts in a pastry box that he tied with a crimson ribbon. Everything went into the straw basket Berti had brought with her.

She thanked him and then said, “A friend of mine moved here a while ago, but I'm not sure where he lives. Perhaps you know him. Didier Falque.”

“Of course I know Didi. He lives over behind the church.” Laurent gave her a smile and indicated that she should simply follow the street into the central
place
and then up a curving passageway.

Berti thanked him and closed the shop door behind her to the sound of the clinking bell. It was already noon and the sun was shining brightly overhead. It had occurred to her that Didier might have gone down to Serret to tend to his vines that day. In that case, she would return to the café and read the morning papers. In the meantime, she was curious to see the house where he was living. She passed the central square, where there were half a dozen ancient sycamore trees, some nearly hollow but still viable, as new
leaves were already poking out like tiny fans from the thick branches. Restaurant tables with yellow wicker chairs around them lined the sidewalk. Farther on was a cobblestoned alley that climbed gently upward. As she followed the curve of the stone wall she caught a glimpse of the church spire ahead and then spied an iron gate behind which several ornamental pomegranate bushes were in full flower, the fleshy petals gleaming a glossy golden red. Just inside, a man was bent over a rough wooden table, working with an adz. He had a strong body and was dressed in blue jeans, a work shirt, and leather boots with thick soles. At the sight of him, Berti suddenly felt unsteady. Her heart clenched and she gripped her shopping basket to her chest with both hands. In a sickening rush she realized that she might not be welcome there. After all, Didier was a prosperous vintner, an attractive-looking man, and he was free. He might be involved, or even living with someone else. A sort of agony coursed through her. There was no reason why she might be the only woman in the region who would interest a man like Didier. She hesitated, thinking that perhaps she could get away unseen and return to Mondraque and its sulfurous waters instead of being discovered there in the middle of an alleyway like a desperate cat. But as she was about to take a step backward, Didier turned. He gazed at her, his eyes at first inquiring and very dark, but almost immediately his mouth spread in a wide smile and his eyes gleamed as he strode toward her. When he reached her, he closed his mouth and then opened it again, unable to stop grinning.

“What on earth are you doing here?” he asked.

“I asked Laurent the butcher where you lived, but I was afraid you might not be home,” she blurted. “I brought something to eat.” She held out the basket to him.

A stone house with a red tile roof stood just beyond the blooming garden. On a flagstone terrace a round wooden table with two chairs was bathed in soft sunlight. Didier clasped her hand and led her through the gate.

I
wish to thank Dee Ratterree for her unwavering faith, friendship, and brilliance, and my friend Gail Hochman for her time and encouragement. Thanks also to Trish Todd, David Jauss, Abby Frucht, and Ellen Lesser. And to Katharine Beebe for her perceptive questions about life in France.

Simon & Schuster Paperbacks Reading Group Guide

Amour Provence

Constance Leisure

1. 
Amour Provence
features a varied cast of characters. Which one's story resonated with you most? Why?

2. Share your thoughts on the novel's structure. What did you like or dislike about the way the story unfolded? In what ways did the unconventional narrative challenge you as a reader?

3. What long-term repercussions does Didier face because of his youthful affair with Sabine? Why are people so quick to believe Manu's accusation that Didier took sexual advantage of Sabine? Why do you suppose Sabine would permit her son to make such a claim and not refute it?

4. What do you make of Didier's encounter on the bridge with the peanut roaster's woman? What does this scene reveal about Didier?

5. Talk about the instances of bigotry in the novel. Were you surprised at the level of animosity directed toward the North African immigrants, Rachida and Mohammed
among them, living and working in the community? Why or why not? What are your thoughts on how Mohammed advises Rachida to handle the cultural differences they encounter?

6. Compare Rachida's life in Morocco to her life in France, where she has greater freedoms but is subject to racial abuse. In which place would you rather live if you were her?

7. Jeannot is introduced in the first chapter along with Berti and Didier. When he reappears in chapter six, why do you think the author chose to present him through the perspective of his teenage son, Auri, rather than in the third person? Why does Auri wish his father, whom he once admired, was a different sort of man?

8. “My parents say your father is a
marginal
. Somebody who lives on the fringe,” Auri's friend remarks to him about Jeannot. How does the area's social and economic hierarchy impact its residents? On which characters does it have the greatest effects, positive or negative?

9. Lapin is considered a deranged eccentric by many of the townspeople. Is this reputation deserved? Why do Euphémie, Rachida, and Berti have a different view of Lapin than most everyone else?

10. Why does being confined to a psychiatric hospital remind Euphémie of the war years and trigger long-buried memories? Why does she feel that “perhaps she deserved” to be
confined against her will in the rest home? Why does Euphémie turn down Gaston's initial offer to help get her get out?

11. Why does Berti return to Provence after so many years living abroad? How is her homecoming different from the way she envisioned it would be? Is she content with the decision she made? What does she see differently now about the area, especially in regard to how provincial proprieties affect women?

12. Berti suddenly remembers witnessing her father viciously beat her sister Marguerite, one of the frequent acts of violence he committed against his children. How does this recollection alter Berti's perception of her family? Why is she unwilling to apply the adage “forgive and forget” to her father and all he has done?

13. Why is Berti reluctant not only to become romantically involved with Didier but even to be seen with him in public? Why does she later change her mind and seek out Didier? What are her intentions when she goes to his house with a picnic? What do you suppose the future holds for Didier and Berti?

14. Discuss how marriage is portrayed in the novel, from Rachida and Mohammed's arranged marriage to Clément and Liliane's volatile partnership to Euphémie's union, which ended under mysterious circumstances. What is the significance of Liliane's bequest to her children?

15. What did you know about Provence prior to reading this novel? Has your perception of it changed? If so, how? What is unique about the villages that serve as the story's setting, and what universalities do they share with other small towns?

Tell us about your connection to Provence. When did you first visit the area?

When my husband and I moved in Paris we took our children down to Provence one autumn during the Toussaint vacation. While there, we spotted an advertisement in a local magazine for a farmhouse for sale near where we were staying. We visited the place with a real estate agent who stood in the garden eating grapes off the vines that were attached to arbors. There was something magical about the place, but we felt it wasn't sensible to act on a whim. When we returned the following spring, the house was still for sale and the asking price was much lower. Fate had intervened on our side. Now, making grape jelly from those fruited vines has become a ritual that I perform with joy each year.

What prompted the idea to set a novel in the region?

We had been living in Provence on and off for twenty years when I began to write about the region. The landscape and climate of the Midi—the rolling hills; the high mountains; the river valleys; the vineyards; the hot, dry summers; the smell of springtime herbs and flowers—had always touched me. The
character of the people who live there reflects the landscape: sometimes harsh, sometimes sweet and mild. The Provençal are proud, love to talk and enjoy themselves, and above all have an enthusiastic willingness to throw themselves into life whether times are good or bad.