The Promise of Provence (Love in Provence Book 1) (42 page)

Where did I put those gifts Molly left me . . .

It was a while before she could even think about sleep. Eyes wide open, she lay looking at the ceiling, realizing it would take some time to sort out her emotions.

At length, her excitement over Andrea and Terrence’s arrival for a quick three-night visit replaced all other thoughts as sleep found her.

53

Katherine spent the morning cleaning Maison Beau Soleil from top to bottom. She knew her burst of energy was directly linked to the sexual exhilaration of the night before. Philippe had ignited fires that were refusing to go out.

The iPod speakers had been on full blast while she worked, and much of the time she put one song on repeat. Molly had gifted it to her from iTunes earlier in the week, and she couldn’t stop listening to it.

“Stronger,” by Kelly Clarkson, seemed to have been written just for Katherine, Molly said in her e-mail. It was quite remarkable, Kat had to agree. The chorus began, “What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger . . .”

Go figure
.

The song was about a breakup in a relationship and how the woman was now much stronger, feeling liberated and a great deal happier. This was Katherine today. No question about it.

Bernadette picked her up at noon. Depositing Katherine at “Arrivals” at the Nice airport, she indicated where she would be waiting with the car.

There were shrieks of delight as Andrea and Katherine leaped into each other’s arms and bounced around. Terrence grinned broadly before scooping Kat into a bear hug.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” she cried with joy.

Katherine was entertained watching their reactions as Bernadette delivered her standard routine driving along the Bord de Mer. Like most first-time visitors to the Côte d’Azur, they marveled at the scenery.

Terrence exclaimed, “You certainly weren’t exaggerating!”

They told Katherine how they were enjoying their exchange at a small farm property just outside Vienna. The house was an ultramodern contemporary style, completely different from their farmhouse in St. Jacobs.

The farm was a hobby for the retired owners. The manager who helped oversee the work had taken a shine to Andrea and Terrence, and he and his wife had invited them to dinner and spent another day touring them around.

“So we have a good source of support if we need help with anything, and they are great folks. Our communication is mostly smiles and hand gestures, but it works,” Andrea commented with a grin.

They compared how this exchange of Katherine’s was quite different from the one at the Lallibert farmhouse in Provence.

“This time I haven’t had the same kind of family involvement. Bernadette was my contact person, and she has been terrific, but I’ve hardly needed to bother her except for driving at times—and that’s her business. I’ve really been on my own, but of course Molly was with me at the beginning, and we met Nick then. Then it turned out Philippe lives here, which was a huge surprise, and of course Mirella, from the last exchange, put me onto the International Women’s Club in Nice, and before I knew it, I had a life here!”

“It’s surprising how easy it is to slip into a different world, isn’t it?”

“Truly an eye-opener for me,” admitted Katherine. “Life changing, really. Speaking the language a little bit definitely makes it easier, though. I even found a hairdresser here, through the ladies in my bridge group, and I like her better than the one I go to at home.”

“I guess they speak English?” Andrea asked.

“As a matter of fact, not much! But listen—I love how this happened. The first time I went, there was one other customer, very friendly and just so much fun. Her name is Christiane and she does speak some English. She is a longtime friend of the proprietor and the other sweet young stylist. I had such a good time in their company that when Christiane said she had an appointment every Saturday, I made all my appointments on Saturday too. I can’t tell you how much I learned from the three of them about living here and French attitudes and humor and things like that. I’ll never forget those women, and we plan to keep in touch!”

“It just proves that people are friendly no matter what country,” said Terrence.

“We’re always happy to go home, though,” Andrea said.

“No place like it,” he agreed.

Katherine was quiet for a moment. “Well, you know how much I love Toronto. And I’m proud to be a Canadian, but I have to tell you, I feel so at home in this country. There is something about the surroundings and the culture that speaks directly to my heart.”

“Just from the little we’ve seen from the airport to here, I can understand—and of course, this house is a little piece of paradise. But perhaps it’s the novelty of it all too,” Andrea replied.

As it had Molly, the town of Antibes captivated Andrea and Terrence.

Their first stop, as Katherine had promised, was Félix Café, immortalized by author Graham Greene during the three decades he lived and wrote in a nearby apartment.

“Hmm, somehow I thought it would be a more colorful place,” Andrea commented.

“And didn’t he call it Chez Félix?”

“Never mind,” Andrea continued. “I’m loving just sitting where he sat. He’s one of our all-time favorite authors. This is very cool, isn’t it, Terr!”

Terrence smiled broadly.

“Did I ever tell you that apparently Pablo Picasso swilled down more than a few beverages in Maison Beau Soleil?” Katherine asked them.

“Wha-a-at?” squealed Andrea.

“You’ll see that my place is just down the street from the Musée Picasso, a part of which was once his studio, and Bernadette says he partied with everyone in those days, often just dropping in unannounced.”

“Those would have been amazing years to live in the South of France. The arts have always been such a vibrant part of the life here.”

Finishing their beers, they continued exploring the village and fantasized about who had hung out there before them.

“The old town has such an atmosphere, Kat, with this blend of shops, restaurants, and homes. It’s so inviting! All of these patios tempting us to sit and relax, eat, drink, talk. It doesn’t just feel like a tourist town,” Andrea said as they strolled.

“Exactly. There is such a mix of residents, ex-pats, and locals who work in town. Some families have occupied these homes for generations. The town feels lived in and authentic to me.”

“It reminds me of St. Jacobs in a way,” observed Terrence, adding with a chuckle, “in a French way, of course.”

Dinner at Nounou was the fine evening Katherine knew it would be.

Philippe gave them a short tour of Juan-les-Pins beforehand, showing them Jardin de la Pinède and the concert venue La Pinède Gould, as they were well aware of their importance in the jazz world. Then he drove the short distance into Cannes to see the famous walk along the sea, La Croisette, pointing out a few hot spots of the International Film Festival before doubling back to Golfe-Juan and pulling into the restaurant’s parking lot.

As Katherine had done, her visitors gasped when they stepped into the unexpected elegance of the restaurant. Philippe had arranged the best beachfront table, and the evening was filled with comfortable conversation while they dined on seafood, blazing
crêpes Suzette
, and cheese that truly offered them a fine example of French cuisine.

After Philippe dropped them at home, Andrea, eyebrows raised, looked at Katherine. “Now, there is a fine man!”

“No question,” agreed Katherine, a little too hastily. “Now let’s get to sleep. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

Andrea’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth, about to push on about the subject of Philippe, but Katherine was already on her way up to her room, giving a clear message the exchange was over.

The four-day visit flew by. In Nice, Katherine had her very own tour organized after her day with Molly.

After exploring the market and old town, they strolled the pedestrian area and had a
pastis
in the bar of the famous hotel Le Negresco before dinner. Katherine had chosen La Merenda, a shoebox-size restaurant on the edge of the old town with a celebrated chef, serving traditional Provençal cuisine. She had been taken there first by Philippe, and they had returned more than once.

“No reservations. No credit cards. No cell phones,” Terrence read aloud from a sign outside where the simple menu was printed on a blackboard.

“Yes,” Kat explained, “we just have to poke our heads in and see when they can take us.”

The next day featured a stop at the market to visit Philippe. When they dined at Restaurant Nounou, Terrence had been intrigued by his conversation with Philippe and wanted to see his business.

Philippe took them to Biot in the afternoon to see the glassblowers and then up into the hills. A late afternoon drink on the bar terrace in Eze, hanging over the spectacular view, was a must before they ended up at a funky beachside bar in Eze-sur-Mer, drinking beer and snacking on
la friture du jour
, tiny fried fish.

Up early on the last day, Andrea was in full tourist mode. “Let’s go! Kat says we can squeeze in Monaco. I love how so much is so close!”

Arriving home midafternoon, they packed their carry-on bags and then sipped rosé on the rooftop terrace one last time. Later, Philippe and Katherine were going to drive Andrea and Terrence to the airport and carry on to a concert at the Nice Opera House.

“I can’t believe how much we’ve packed into our stay,” Andrea exclaimed. “I never imagined it would be so easy to get around and that there would be so much to see so close by. This has been heaven—a very busy heaven!”

“Philippe is a great guy, Kat,” Terrence said. “I like him very much.”

Andrea gave Katherine a narrow-eyed stare. “I like him very much too. Do you like him very much, my darling cousin?”

Katherine laughed, her color changing to the brightest shade of crimson. “I’ve been wondering when this question would come up from you two. Yes, I like him very much too, but I’m coming home very soon. Plus, he is ten years younger than I am, and there’s nothing going on beyond some semi-serious flirting.”

“Methinks she doth protest too much,” countered Terrence, chuckling gently.

“Seriously,” Andrea added.

“Another time, another place,” said Kat. “It’s an unrealistic scenario here.”

“You don’t have to come home, you know,” said Andrea. “You could stay if you wanted. The electricity between the two of you is almost dangerous to anyone in the vicinity!”

“Well, let’s get real here. Now you’re being the romantic,” Kat exclaimed. “I’ve got the house to take care of, a new job to begin, and . . .” Her voice trailed off.