Chapter 15
With my food safely tucked in my basket, I make my way back to the chateau where Henry and André are hard at work. I wave at a few of the shop owners, including Sofié, the bakery shop owner.
“Bonjour,” someone calls while they tend to their garden.
“Bonjour,” I reply, a giant smile fixed on my face. This place is like something out of a Disney movie—at any given moment, people are going to break out in song. I arrive at the chateau with fresh pastries and bread.
“Finally, you’re back,” André calls the moment I open the old wooden door.
“You are like Pavlov’s dogs the moment I bring food.” I roll my eyes as André sneaks a croissant.
“I’m a growing boy,” he replies, crumbs flying out of his mouth.
“Is it ready?” I ask, inclining my head toward the kitchen, hope in my voice as I stare at what will become the kitchen sink. Since the pipes are already set up, Henry and André figured running water is the easiest to fix.
“What is a De-fils man if not good with his hands.” André laughs, winking at me and closing the distance to the tap, inhaling his croissant.
“You do realize what you just said, right?” I follow after him, dropping the things I’d bought in town by the door.
He snorts. “Of course I do.” I shake my head. Yeah, he has no clue what he just said. I don’t know how, but André and I have become best friends—he’s like the brother I needed. I look forward to seeing his van drive down the driveway a little more than I care to admit.
“Where’s Henry?” I ask, looking around the room but not seeing the older man anywhere.
“He’s downstairs, waiting for us to turn the faucet on.”
“Oh, I arrived just in time then.”
“You’re just lucky I was waiting for my morning croissant delivery, or we would have finished without you.”
I bark a laugh. “I’m pretty sure Henry would have made you wait for me to get back.” Even though Henry and André are committed to helping me restore the chateau, Henry has been very vocal in making sure I am a part of each important step.
“Shhh,” he holds his finger to his lips, “I would have told him you were sitting here next to me.”
“Okay, Mr. De-fils man, show us how good you are with your hands.” I gesture to the faucet. André smiles before cranking the hand on the faucet clockwise. At first, nothing happens. From the corner of our eyes, André and I look at each other. “Are you sure Henry said to turn it on?” I question, imagining Henry in the basement swimming in water because he hadn’t connected a pipe yet and water is gushing everywhere with no way for him to turn it off. André turns the handle again, and I bite my nails, waiting to see a drop of water trickle out. A pipe groans. At least it’s something.
“Don’t worry, it’s fine,” André reassures me, turning the handle again. I’ve bitten my nail almost down to a nub. When suddenly, the tiniest plop leaks from the corner of the faucet. Followed by a second one, and another, and each droplet starts coming quicker and quicker until a continuous stream of water flows from the faucet.
I can’t help the squeal that escapes my lips. “Yes!” I cheer, jumping up and down, throwing my arms over André’s shoulders in celebration.
André laughs, returning my embrace. “I told you, Aurora, De-fils men are good with their hands.”
“What’s this about being good with hands?” Henry interrupts us.
We both turn to see a muddied Henry standing in the doorway. His coveralls are streaked with mud, damp and dirt forming two perfect ovals mark his knees. A smudge of mud lines his angular cheek bone.
“Look, Henry, water.” I put my hand under the water, feeling the temperature change from a chilly spring lake to a tepid summer bath. I can’t wipe the smile from my face as hot water comes streaming out of the single facet in the soon-to-be kitchen.
Henry chuckles. “And to think I’ve been downstairs calling, waiting for André to turn the tap off, because the pipe wasn’t connected, only to find you two up here talking about hands.”
“Oops.” A blush creeps up my cheeks.
“Ah, is that what that sound was?” André clicks his fingers.
“Hands.” Henry rolls his eyes and turns the tap off, making it obvious I’m no Martha Stewart of renovating before going back down to the basement.
Without thinking, I pull out my phone and send a message to Luc. Since it’s technically his place, too, I should keep him informed of the small accomplishments we make.
Rory
Andre and Henry have gotten the water working
Luc
Water working?
My eyes narrow at his message. Is he trying to be annoying on purpose?
Rory
Yes, you know, running water to the chateau? So we don’t have to use buckets.
Luc’s reply is two simple words that have my knees going weak. This guy is going to absolutely test every single bit of my willpower.
Luc
Good girl.
I flick my gaze up as a shadow behind André catches my eye. I thought I saw the outline of the duchess winking, like she herself was proud of the achievement. It may have just been the sunlight playing tricks on my mind, or the extra blood rushing through my veins from Luc’s message, but whether or not the duchess’s presence was there, running water was one of the top three most important things to be installed, and with it done, I’m well on my way to getting this place restored and kicking Luc out of my inheritance.
“André, do you know where the g?te is?” I ask.
“Yes.” André guides me to the window. He rests a hand on my shoulder. “See the roof there?” He points with the other hand to heavily overgrown trees.
“No,” I admit.
André moves me to the left and points again. “See it now?”
“Still no,” I grumble.
André turns me again. “Aurora, follow my finger.”
“André, I’m following your finger. I still don’t see a g?te.”
André leads me outside through the door to the side of the kitchen. “It’s right there.” He points to the same overgrown tree.
“André, you keep pointing at a tree. Or are you telling me g?te means tree?”
“No arbre means tree, the g?te is right there.” If I wasn’t getting annoyed, I think I would find this whole exchange funny.
My nostrils flare as I grow frustrated, and I turn to André. “Okay, how about I walk toward the tree, and you tell me if I’m close.”
He runs a hand down his face and blows out a deep breath. “Yes, Aurora, let’s do that.” I jump down the rotting wooden steps, and the gravel crunches underneath my boots as I walk toward the tree André was pointing at.
“This way?” I point to André.
“Yes.” He nods and waves me forward.
I walk farther in the direction until I’m nearly under the tree. “André, all I see is the tree.”
“Aurora.” Even in the distance, I can see him touching the bridge of his nose. “It’s right there. Look up.”
God, how stupid does he think I am. I resist the urge to roll my eyes at him, and I turn around and do as he says and look up to find three stable-like structures hidden by overgrown tree vines. There is a g?te.
“Found it,” I call loud enough so he can hear me.
“Thank god Arsène Lupin is here,” he says as he throws his hands up and walks inside.
Who is Arsène Lupin?
I tuck my hands into my pockets as I scan the tanned g?tes, the same color as the chateau. The first looks like it once housed horses and perhaps a carriage, with a giant, floor-to-ceiling, navy, wooden door at the mouth of the building. An ominous guard, just waiting to be opened so the whinnying horses inside could gallop out, taking the duke and duchess on their next adventure. The two other structures were much smaller by comparison. The four windows on the front are blocked out by curtains. I open the door and lift my scarf to cover my mouth and nose, and avoid breathing in the dusty air as I step into the converted horse stables. A once white but now a shade of yellow kitchen takes up half the right wall, sitting above the old cobblestoned floor, rife with divots and holes from use over time. It looks not long abandoned, like a time capsule into a past life.
“Do not trip, Rory,” I tell myself. The absolute last thing I need is to twist an ankle. Although, having André cart me around doesn’t sound like a bad idea. After a quick search, I find this g?te is fully furnished, with no broken windows, and completely livable. I guess this is where Luc and I will be living soon. The second g?te would make for a good spot to turn into my painting studio. I need to get my stuff sorted in here before Luc arrives. I make my way back to where I had André bring my suitcase down, and I attempt to bring it to the g?te. The crunch of the gravel underfoot grows louder with each step I take. I hook my hand in the handle of the suitcase and, using all my weight, I try to drag the plastic wheels over the gravel. My legs are already jellied with all the walking I’ve been doing. “My god,” I grumble. I didn’t think that rolling the suitcases over the gravel was going to be this hard. Evidently, the laws of physics have proven me wrong.
I continue to pull at the unbudging wheels. “Come on, you stupid thing,” I growl, almost pleadingly with the suitcase as sweat gathers at the base of my spine, making my thermal stick to me. The suitcase refuses to move even an inch. I wind my foot back and give the hard shell a swift kick, hoping it will convince the stubborn thing to move, or at the very least be a good outlet for my anger, and I give a squeal in shock as I fall backward and land on the cold, damp ground.
“Aurora?” Luc’s honey eyes swim into view. His voice, warm as caramel, wraps around my soul, just as my world goes dark.