Chapter Eleven
Bastien took my hand and helped me over the broken, cracked, dandelion-covered path that led up to the imposing front door.
“Le chateau has a long and complicated history in Maubec. Do you know much about it?” Bastien asked.
A little embarrassed, I shook my head. And I was grateful Elliott had left. I didn’t need to endure his judgment for not having done my homework. But, to be fair, Kate didn’t provide any materials about the house’s history at all, only the projections for the film schedule and some notes back and forth about ways they planned to highlight a different side of Plum Everly. So technically, there really wasn’t homework to do.
Ugh. Whatever. That’s why we had Bastien. Plus, in all fairness, me not knowing much about the chateau (yet) made for a great opportunity to get a bit closer to our sexy lead contractor. Anyone worth their salt knew full well that chemistry and natural magnetism between costars was a crucial element to a show’s success, so spending time together to fill in all the gaps of what I didn’t know ... would be time well spent.
“And yet you agreed to take on the project anyway? That was brave of you,” he joked.
“Not brave. I was ready to get out of LA. I have a complicated history there. I hate to say it, but my agent could have offered me a gig on the moon, and I probably would have said yes.”
“Well, it may not be the moon, but it is absolutely of a different time and place, like another world entirely.”
“I’m beginning to see that.”
Bastien laughed and stretched out his arm toward a crumbling rock wall in the courtyard. “Chateau Mirabelle started out as a fortress. That one barricade is all that is left of it. The house you see now was built in the late 1600s on the site of an older castle partially destroyed in 1580 during the Wars of Religion.”
“Oh? But what happened between 1580 and now? Why was the house left abandoned?” I asked.
“In the summer of 1942, the mayor of Maubec received a telegram insisting he evacuate the chateau. The Third Reich wanted it as lodging for their officers. But what the German army didn’t know was that beneath the house there’s an elaborate web of caves built to store wine—but also useful for hiding things, like weapons, Resistance fighters, and Jewish families trying to make their way to Switzerland.”
As he described what happened, I was spellbound by his storytelling and could immediately understand why, beyond his obvious good looks, Kate chose him to be on camera. “So what happened?”
“They blew it up,” he said matter-of-factly.
My eyes were now as round as my mouth. When my brain caught up, I asked, “Who blew it up? The German army?”
“No, the town! Madame and Monsieur Adéla?se, the owners of Chateau Mirabelle, gathered all the Resistance fighters in Maubec, and together they destroyed as much of the house and as much evidence as they could. Their bravery likely saved hundreds of lives.”
Goose bumps prickled up my arms, and suddenly the gorgeous, sun-soaked landscape darkened a bit under the shadow of such a tragic story of sacrifice and bravery. Afraid to know the answer, I continued in spite of myself, “And Madame and Monsieur Adéla?se, what happened to them?”
Bastien pressed his lips together and shook his head grimly. “They went into hiding, but eventually they were found, arrested for their disloyalty to the Third Reich, and never heard from again, I’m afraid. That is how the house came to be vacant all these years. The village did its best to maintain the property, but over time, it was simply too much, too hard.” He glanced over at me. “Forgive me, I am talking on and on. I don’t mean to bore you with all this history stuff.”
“Bore me? Are you kidding? I’m riveted. But it’s sad, isn’t it? That more people don’t know this story. About the bravery the town showed in the face of such adversity. Like, why weren’t these the stories we’d hear about in school?”
Bastien’s eyes turned more somber and soulful. “Sad? Perhaps? But we can give the story a happy ending, n’est-ce pas? We can rebuild what has been lost so that it may be found.” A warmth radiated from the upturn of his lips, luring me into total agreement. He blushed and pushed open the front door with both of his hands. “Here,” he said, handing me a hard hat. “Keep an eye out, quite a few of the floor planks are missing, and there is a low-hanging beam that could go at any time.”
I followed Bastien through the entryway into the home’s enormous three-story foyer adorned with a sweeping staircase embellished with ornate ironwork. Its sheer vastness took my breath away. Glancing up at the gold-leaf crown molding encircling the ceiling’s entire perimeter, I pushed up on my toes for a better look.
Bastien grabbed me by the elbow. “Attention!” he shouted in French. “Watch out.”
I was about two inches from completely wiping out on a knee-high cannon strewn in the middle of the foyer. Bastien touched my elbow lightly and helped me carefully step over it.
“What is that? It doesn’t look big enough to be a weapon,” I commented.
“Legend has it, the Adéla?se family would shoot the cannon off every time a male family member was born,” he explained.
“Just the males? I wonder what my father would have to say about that tradition? He has five daughters.”
“Of course, the beautiful and renowned Everly sisters.”
Bastien’s directness caught me off guard. Most people either feigned indifference to my fame or brought it up within seconds of meeting me. Bastien did neither, instead behaving in the most surprising way of all, like I was totally normal, nothing special.
“Let’s go this way. I want to show you the rest of the rooms on this floor,” he said excitedly.
Bastien led me through a maze of rooms, each in greater disarray than the one before it, with crumbling fireplaces, mushroom-covered beams, and walls stripped almost down to the studs. There was a huge hole in the floor of what Bastien told me was once the chateau’s library. If you looked all the way down, you could see straight into the belly of the house. I shivered thinking about all the mice that likely made their way up from below every night looking for a warmer spot to nest.
“Are you cold?” Bastien asked.
“Yes. No. I’m fine,” I said, my eyes now darting around at any small sound with the expectation of seeing a gopher-size rodent in every darkened nook.
When we finished exploring most of the primary space on the first floor, we arrived at the base of the very dilapidated grand staircase. “Do you want to see the upstairs now?”
I hesitated, not sure if the rotted wood and crumbling stone could handle the weight of the mice I’d mentioned earlier, let alone me and Bastien. I suddenly felt like the vast chateau was closing in on me, and the complete overhaul was a little more than I’d bargained for. I continued to meander down the corridor now, inspecting every detail more closely, the sheer scope of this project overwhelming. “When Kate said the chateau needed work, I didn’t imagine anything of this magnitude. Are you sure I’m the right person for this?”
Now it was Bastien’s turn to look surprised, his eyes doubled in size and his brows sky-high. “What do you mean? Of course you are.” He grabbed my hand, laced his fingers with mine, and rubbed my skin with his thumb. “I’ll be right here by your side through it all, and when it’s finished, it will be magnifique.” He twirled me around playfully, his hand still holding mine, the word magnifique like a firework of excitement ... that fizzled to nothing but a fallen ember in the wake of my mounting doubt.
“But this whole house? We can’t possibly renovate this whole house in three months.”
Again, Bastien’s enthusiasm swelled like another display of Fourth of July sparklers as he pulled me into the chateau’s crumbling library. “Don’t be ridiculous. We will renovate a few rooms, and the magic of television will make it appear as if we refurbished the entire chateau.”
Wait, that can’t be right.“But I thought—” I started, only to be interrupted by a deep male voice calling through the cavernous halls.
“Hello,” Elliott shouted from the entranceway. “You guys in here?”
My hand fell away from Bastien’s, and Bastien called back, “Oui, come around the staircase to the back room. Oh, and watch out for the low-hanging beam.”
“Huh? What’d you say?” Elliott replied, quickly followed by a booming, “Damn it all to hell!”
“I don’t think he heard what you said about the beam,” I said to Bastien.
“Non. Nor do I.”
Elliott came around the corner rubbing his forehead and joined us in the library. “I got all the footage I needed. Plum, it’s almost two. The van will be outside soon. Are you ready to go?”
“We are finished here for today,” Bastien answered, then turned to me, taking my hands again in his. “Can I ask you, though, are you doing anything this evening? I’d love to continue our talk about the renovation.”
My eyes darted over to Elliott, who looked pained from both the conversation and the bump starting to protrude from his left temple.
“Tonight? Oh, well, I’ve been invited out to explore Avignon tonight.”
“Parfait, I live in Avignon!” Bastien reached into my pocket for my phone. “Here, now you have my number,” he said, typing it into the keypad. “Message me when you know where you are going to be.”
The van honked its horn from outside.
“Plum, that’s Gervais,” Elliott urged.
I unbuckled the hard hat and passed it back to Bastien. “Thanks for the tour and the history lesson.”
“Je vous en prie. See you tonight.”
I climbed into the van and took out my phone to text Kate.
Me: The chateau is absolutely incredible.
Kate: Isn’t it?! What’d you think of Bastien?
Me: Très charming.
Kate: LOL! That’s one word for it. Don’t you just want to devour him?!
Me: He’s been wonderful. And this project—there’s just so much potential! Thank you for championing me.
Kate: Thank YOU for saying yes. We couldn’t do it without you!
Me: à bient?t. That means “speak soon.” Look at me, one day in and already my French is sooooooo much better!
Kate: C’est FANTASTIQUE! XO
Me: XO
I tucked my phone away, a soft smile on my lips. I was profoundly grateful for my new girlfriend and this chance to start anew, and this time, I wouldn’t screw it up.