Chapter 6 #3
“She just lost her husband and I think she’s still in deep mourning for him, and came here to recover. Some people like it here.”
“How depressing.” Brigitte dismissed her, and never asked how old she was or if she was good-looking. Xavier would have told her the truth, he always did, but she didn’t ask or care. “Did she rent it?”
“Yes, for a year.”
“For how much?” He told her and she was stunned. It was a very healthy sum that would more than pay their bills every month. There was nothing to complain about there. “Maybe she would buy it from you at a big price. That might make you reconsider,” she said hopefully.
“No, it wouldn’t,” he said firmly. They hung up a few minutes later. Neither of them had anything else to say.
—
Sabrina kept busy in Paris with all the things she liked to do when she was there.
All of them brought back haunting memories of Malcolm, and she worked through each of them day by day.
She went to all her favorite museums, wandered down all the streets on the Left Bank where the galleries she liked best were, walked in the Luxembourg Gardens and the Bois de Boulogne and Bagatelle, shopped on the Avenue Montaigne and the Faubourg Saint-Honoré for her daughters, and even bought a few things for herself.
She felt as though she was waking up from long, dark months, and had been in a daze.
She didn’t like going to restaurants alone, so on most evenings she had room service in her suite at the Ritz, but by then she was tired from walking miles all over Paris and was happy to be tucked in, reading art books she bought at the museums she went to.
She flew to Biarritz on the first of February.
She had been speaking to at least one of her children every day, and they were excited for her to be taking possession of the chateau and were eager to see it.
They had decided that it would be good for her.
She bought a car in Biarritz, so she could get around with ease.
And she had bought some pretty sheets at Porthault to use for her bed at the Chateau de Bonport.
The realtor had assured her that the house came with linens, but she was particular about her own.
Malcolm had always commented on the beautiful sheets she bought for their bed.
And even if no one else saw them now, she enjoyed them too.
She hadn’t brought many clothes and only had two suitcases with her, but she had added a few things in Paris.
She didn’t expect to need anything fancy at the chateau, and if she needed more, Hallie could go through her closets in Malibu and send her what she was missing.
Maxime the caretaker helped her with her bags when she arrived, and two cartons of art books she had brought.
She settled in quickly. She went to the local market and cooked her first meal in the kitchen.
She noticed a number of things that her landlord had repaired or replaced, and smiled when she saw that the brass knocker on the front door had been shined until it gleamed.
She didn’t see Xavier de Bonport when she arrived, and didn’t ask if he was there.
She didn’t want to be nosy or intrusive.
She arrived on a Friday, spent Saturday settling in, and went to Biarritz to pick up the car. It was a little red Fiat, which was all she needed to get around. If she went on any long trips, she could rent a larger car, but she had no plans to travel at the moment.
Maxime’s wife cleaned the chateau once a week, and he found her two young local girls to clean and do laundry every weekday. Sabrina was going to cook for herself every night and make her own bed on the weekends. She spoke to the two girls in her awkward French.
And on Sunday morning, she decided to attend the choir mass at the monastery that the realtor had told her about.
She sat in a pew at the rear of the church, and closed her eyes as she listened to the music. The voices were exquisite. There were about forty children staying at the convent, and some of the local children had joined the choir. Their voices were beautiful, like angels, blending with the nuns’.
She lit a candle for Malcolm and for each of her children, which was a Catholic practice she had always loved ever since she was a child, although she was baptized Episcopalian.
She was a frequent churchgoer but not a constant one, and she liked the service at the monastery.
She was leaving the church when she saw Xavier de Bonport alone on the steps, leaving just ahead of her.
He turned as she approached him, and was surprised to see her. He smiled at her, and seemed pleased.
“Did you find everything in good order?” he asked her.
“Perfectly. Thank you for fixing so many things, and for the new toaster and microwave,” she commented, and he laughed.
“My wife doesn’t believe in them and thinks they’re unhealthy. But I thought you might want them.” She had tried the microwave the night before and the toaster that morning.
“I’ve already used them,” she confirmed. “You must have been busy.”
“I got it all done in a week,” he said proudly. “I had meetings in Paris this week. I got back last night. I saw the lights on but didn’t want to bother you.”
“The front door knocker looks gorgeous, by the way,” she said, as he walked her to her new car.
“I polished it myself. It’s original with the house. It shined up very nicely.” He looked relaxed and happy as they chatted. “I like your new car.”
“I bought it yesterday in Biarritz,” she said, smiling at him.
“I ride a bicycle here most of the time. I walked this morning.”
“Would you like a ride home?” she offered.
“That would be very nice, thank you.”
She asked him about a marina or yacht club, on the way back, and he told her about the two closest ports half an hour away. They were Anglet and Ciboure harbors, and they weren’t fancy.
“Are you buying a boat too?” he asked, impressed, and wondered if she was planning to buy a large yacht.
He had the feeling that she had unlimited money to spend, she had been so easy about the rent.
He assumed that she had just inherited a fortune from her husband, and was spending it liberally.
In fact, she hadn’t touched a penny of what Malcolm had left her.
It was all invested. The money she was spending was all her own.
“My husband had a beautiful sailboat he loved. It’s very old and quite lovely.
I took it out of the water this winter. No one’s used it since…
” Her voice trailed off for an instant, and she went on.
“I thought it would be nice for the children to have it here this summer. I want to get it shipped over. It’s not a very big boat, and they love it.
It will be fun for them here. They’re all good sailors and love his boat.
” She was definitely settling in, and when they got out at the chateau, he hesitated for a minute, and then decided to brave it.
“There’s a very nice quiet, simple restaurant in Biarritz I thought you might like.
I wanted to invite you to dinner to thank you for renting the chateau.
It solves some problems for me, and you’ve been so nice about everything.
Would you like to have dinner there tomorrow night?
” She was startled by the invitation, but touched that he had asked her.
It was unexpected and generous, and she was moved too by his admission of problems. She wondered if that accounted for the melancholy look in his eyes at times.
There was something troubling him, but she had no idea what it was.
Maybe the wife in Paris who hated Arcangues and had her own bedroom far from his.
It was a rather obvious clue when she had seen their sleeping arrangements.
All their clothes had been packed up and removed, and their daughter’s, to get the house ready for Sabrina and her family.
“That sounds lovely,” Sabrina answered him about dinner. “You’ll have to come to the main house for dinner one night. I saw some wonderful langoustines at the market.”
“My favorite.” He smiled at her. He was enjoying the banter, and she looked very pretty in a simple white sweater and blue jeans and a parka she had bought in Paris.
The parka was almost the same special blue as the shutters in Arcangues, which was why she had bought it.
The similarity of color had struck him too.
“That’s our blue,” Xavier said, and she nodded, shy for a minute.
“It’s so bright and alive and vibrant,” she said, “and so hopeful. It’s the color of hope,” she added, smiling at him.
“We all need a bit of that, don’t we,” he said, as a cloud came over his eyes again. “The color of hope. I like that.”
“So do I,” she said thoughtfully.
“I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow. Does that work for you?” he asked her, and she laughed.
“I’ll have to check, I’m terribly busy. I have appointments all day, dinner parties every night, and business lunches,” she said, and he laughed too.
She had a light touch and he liked that about her.
He could see that she had weathered a heavy storm, but she could still laugh, and smile, and be kind to him.
“à demain,” she said in French…till tomorrow…
as he walked briskly back to the dower house.
It was cold out, but he was smiling as he waved, and so was she when she walked into the chateau and gently closed the heavy door with the brass knocker.
It had been nice seeing him at church. It made her feel like a local and as though she belonged there.
She was looking forward to dinner with him the next day.
For an instant she questioned her own motives.
He was married, after all, and she was mourning Malcolm, but it was nice to know someone in the village.
She decided that it was all right, and she didn’t need to feel guilty.
There were no ulterior motives on either side.
Just two people being kind to each other, and needing a friend to talk to. It was harmless.