Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
After a sleepless night, I stood at my bedroom window, groggily clutching a cup of coffee and staring out at a bleak landscape.
It was a hazy day, a gray mist cast over the rolling hills—a gray to match my sinking mood.
I clutched my coffee tightly, willing my body not to shake. I willed my eyes not to well up with tears. God, Remi could be such a stubborn ass. But did I blame him? I wasn’t exactly being easy. I was just so confused, so lost. But one thing was becoming painfully clear: I needed to go home. As much as the idea of frolicking through lavender fields barefoot for the rest of my life was appealing, I was fooling myself. I wasn’t French. I wasn’t even really part of this family. I couldn’t just Photoshop myself into this picture.
Had I really come this far only to let it all go now? But could I really go on like this? Clearly, the universe was trying to tell me something. From the permits to the neighbors blocking my every move, to a literal act of God, I was pretty certain the universe was telling me to go home.
I had to admit, it hurt more than I thought it would. My heart was breaking just a little, thinking about turning my back on this place. But I was in over my head. What choice did I really have? And the truth was, I didn't have the money to support all this. I could spend every last dollar Pierre left me just jumping through all the red tape, but was that really the best use of it?
Maybe I should just hand it all over to étienne, Régis, and Félicité and wish them well. Even though they hadn't wanted anything to do with this place over the past few years, I could tell they had come to find a new appreciation for it in the last couple of months. Maybe these memories belonged to them. Maybe I really didn’t belong here.
A heaviness settled over me as I thought about driving away, boarding a plane, and going back to Berkeley with no plan. I had always loved my little artsy town with its majestic trees, Tibetan art shops, and quirky cafés. But it was hard to picture what came next for me there. I was afraid I’d always feel the void of what I’d lost. That the bitterness wouldn’t subside with time but fester like a cancer. Would I walk by my old storefront every day on the way to get my fair-trade coffee and feel the embers of resentment flare to life?
But the fear of that didn’t mean France was the answer. Maybe it was time to explore new possibilities. New horizons.
New jobs. Because I was going to need a paycheck pretty soon.
I heard Colette’s voice shouting something through the halls, and my heart clenched. Outside of Remi, saying goodbye to her was going to be the hardest part. She’d so quickly become like family to me—like a piece of home I never knew was missing. I shook off the silly grief. It wasn’t like we were going to be separated for an eternity. I could visit. Maybe they could all visit. Besides, I still had to figure out what I was going to do with the property. This wasn’t the final goodbye.
Not yet.
I dragged myself into the shower and let the hot water scrub away as much of my malaise as it could. Then I pulled on some linen pants and a cotton T-shirt and readied myself to deliver the news.
Maybe I was giving myself too much credit, thinking anyone would even care, but I was still nervous. Part of me felt like I was abandoning everyone after giving them hope.
I stepped into the kitchen nook to hear Colette humming. She was wearing loose linen trousers and a T-shirt with an apron tied around it. Her salt-and-pepper hair was twisted back at the nape of her neck, and a little scarf was tied around her head. She was the perfect image of a country French housekeeper.
She stopped when she heard me approach and turned to me with a smile as warm and comforting as honeyed toast.
“ Bonjour, Elodie . Avez-vous bien dormi ?”
I nodded. “For the most part, yes.”
“ Bon . There is coffee made. If it is not fresh enough, I can make more, of course.”
“It’s fine, thank you. I’m not too fussy.”
“ Non, definitely not. Not like your Frenchie siblings. Impossible to please,” she grinned to show her jest. “Are you hungry?”
My stomach turned at the suggestion, and I shook my head. “Not just yet, thank you. I think I just need a little coffee. Been indulging a bit too much in your macarons.”
She chuckled. “No such thing as too much indulgence here, ma chérie .”
But she honored my request and didn’t shove a plate of fresh croissants in my face.
A light spatter of rain started up, tapping against the window.
“Does it always rain this much at this time of year?”
Colette turned her gaze outside and bobbed her head. “This is probably the rainiest time of year, oui , but I will say it has been more intense than usual. Perhaps you brought it with you.”
I smiled thinly. “That would track,” I muttered.
I sipped the coffee, which was a little stale but still hot.
“What is on your mind?” Colette finally asked.
“Hmm?”
“You clearly have something on your mind. Unburden yourself.”
I attempted to laugh and lowered my eyes into my coffee. I sighed, knowing I just needed to get on with it. “There is something I need to talk to you about.”
Colette wiped her hands with her tea towel and turned toward me with her full attention. There was a glint in her eyes that told me she already knew what I was about to say.
“I’m going back to California.”
She said nothing for a moment, just nodded slowly, confirming my suspicions.
“I suspected as much. But why, may I ask?”
I sighed and shook my head slightly, not knowing how to explain it all in a way that would make sense to anyone outside of my racing mind.
“It’s complicated, but there is just too much—everything is overwhelming. When I got that first call from Jean Allard, I thought, oh, interesting. I’ve inherited a watch or a painted vase. Maybe it was not worth the trip all the way to France, but my life was falling apart, so why not? I expected I’d be here for a week, enjoy the lavender, and be on my merry way back to California to put my life back together. The next thing I know, it’s three months later, and I’m rebuilding my very own French chateau, and I have this brand-new family, and this man—” I stopped short. I didn’t want to talk about Remi. I didn’t want that part of this situation to be anyone’s but mine. But Colette didn’t push. Whatever she knew about me and Remi, she was discreet.
I shook my head and collected myself with a deep belly breath. “Anyway. I just—I don’t belong here, Colette. This isn’t my home. I’m not French. I don’t know how to renovate a historic home. This place belongs to étienne, Régis, and Félicité, not me.”
I paused to catch my breath and sipped my coffee.
“Do you mind if I respond?” Colette asked after a moment of silence.
I smiled. “Please do.”
“I will not tell you what to do, Elodie. Even though I feel as though I have known you your whole life, I know I don’t fully understand everything that has gone on back home in your life. You have things you must handle back in California, and I understand that. I won’t try to convince you to ignore your life or pretend your problems don’t exist. But as for the rest? What kind of nonsense is this? You don’t belong here? Balivernes ! You were born here. In this house. I heard your mother’s wails through these walls when you came into the world. Pierre loved you very much, and he died with regret for not knowing you better. Your brothers and sister—they might have been resentful three months ago when they first learned of everything, but they have come to love you. Even our chilly Ice King, étienne.” She grinned.
“You have brought this family back to Chateau Descoteaux . That is a magic Pierre could never do when he was alive. It was something I could never do, despite loving those kids like my own. So you must do what you must, but do it because you choose a different path, not because you think you don’t have this path. That you don’t belong.”
My eyes pricked with tears as she spoke.
“And as for Remi—” she added.
I laughed, wiping away the rogue tears. “As for Remi?”
“I have not been a fly on the wall in your private moments, but I have known that boy his entire life. And I have never seen him so alive as in these past few months. You have stripped away that guarded exterior of his and released the joy in him. It has been a beautiful transformation to watch.”
I swallowed back my tears, afraid they were going to burst from me like an erupting volcano.
“Have you told Remi you are leaving?” Colette asked.
I shook my head. “No. I haven’t told anyone else yet. I’m not sure how exactly I’m going to. But he’ll be fine. He’s a grown man, and this is—it’s nothing between us.”
Colette pressed her lips together. “Hmm. If you enjoy lying to yourself, that’s your prerogative.” She flashed me a cheeky look.
“And when do you plan to go, then?” she asked.
I sighed. “I think next week. I will finalize what I need to with the house and then...” I shrugged.
Colette nodded. “Well. It’s your decision, of course. And we will all understand. But you will be missed. We must have a final send-off, though. Can’t have you sneaking off in the night.”
“Please, I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.”
She waved away my words. “Don’t be silly. Just a little party with those who have come to know you these past months.”
I smiled. “Thank you. That would be lovely.”
Colette took my hand and squeezed. “All will be well for you. I know it. You have Pierre’s spirit of determination.”