Chapter 23
23
‘Hi, I’m looking for Gabriel Hartmann?’ I hear a man say at Reception the following day. An American accent. It’s Saturday, mid-morning, and I’ve left the others cleaning the chalet – well, Sébastien mostly. His way of saying sorry for making a scene at the party. The others are still in bed.
‘Is he expecting you?’ I ask, wary of who would be asking, and why. What if someone knows?
‘He should be!’
‘Hang on. I’ll go and see if he’s free.’
I hurry up the stairs to his workshop. ‘Gabriel, there’s someone in Reception asking for you. I’ve told him to wait there while I fetch you.’
Gabriel frowns, slides off his reading glasses and puts them next to his phone on the work surface, then follows me down to Reception where the man, in a knee-length Crombie overcoat, is waiting.
‘Hey, Mac, what are you doing here?’ says Gabriel.
‘Been trying to contact you.’ He holds out a hand to shake. ‘Seems you’re hard to track down.’
‘Just getting my new range ready,’ Gabriel says, and slides a look to me.
‘Ready for the launch, huh? Great!’ He laughs loudly.
Gabriel smiles, a little awkwardly. ‘What can I do for you, Mac?’
‘Like I said, I’ve come to see that everything’s on track for the new year.’ And the laughter seeps away from his voice, leaving a hint of steel, as he says, ‘And that our deal still holds.’
‘Yes, yes, oui , of course.’ Gabriel takes the man’s elbow. ‘Let me grab my coat and take you out for lunch. I can give you an update.’
I can’t help thinking that Gabriel is steering him away from me.
The man grins. ‘Thank God, I was beginning to think you’d gone cold on us. That’s why they sent me out here. God, it’s freezing!’
‘Let’s go and have something to eat. Which do you prefer? Raclette or fondue?’
‘I’ll have to leave that up to you.’
‘In that case, my friend, it will have to be raclette all the way.’ He sends a smile at me and surprisingly, unlike the fizz of excitement I feel when I’m with Daniel, my stomach does a soft melting, like caramel in the centre of a milk chocolate. Surprising, yet comforting, and leaving me wanting more. Like raclette .
Gabriel rushes back for his coat, pulls his scarf around his neck and leads his visitor out of the main doors.
‘Impressive place, this,’ says the man.
‘It has a long chocolate history here in the town,’ Gabriel explains. And I watch them go.
I climb back up to Gabriel’s workshop to grab my notebook, where I’ve made notes on my dates so far with Daniel, and tidy up after the taste tests we’ve been doing there. My notebook is on Gabriel’s workbench. It’s lying next to his phone, which is ringing. He’s left it behind. I look at it vibrating on the desk. I wonder whether to take it to the restaurant. I don’t know what to do, whether to answer it or leave it. The phone stops ringing and I breathe a sigh of relief. I wipe down the surfaces, make sure everything is back in its place and turn to leave. The phone rings again. And it keeps ringing. They’re clearly keen to get hold of Gabriel.
I reach out to it tentatively, as if I’m about to open someone’s diary, fascinated but not knowing what I’ll find. I pick up the phone. It’s a woman’s name. But that means nothing. And it isn’t any of my business! However, I tell myself, it could be important … Impulsively, I press answer.
‘ Oui? Hello?’ I listen but no one speaks.
‘Hello?’ I say again.
Still nothing. But I can hear someone is there. ‘Hello? This is Gabriel’s phone,’ I add, in case they’re assuming they’ve got a wrong number.
‘I got a missed call, and a message, to ring this number.’
‘Erm, I’m afraid Gabriel’s not here right now. I can take a message, get him to ring you back. He’s left his phone behind.’
‘Right … And you are?’ asks the young woman at the other end.
‘I’m …’ I stop. I don’t know who this is, or what is happening in Gabriel’s life. I’m not going to hand out my name and details. ‘Sorry, who are you?’
‘This is my dad’s number,’ she replies.
‘Ah, I see. I’m Clara,’ I reply, although that will mean nothing to her. Why would it?
‘I had a missed call. What’s happened? Has there been an accident? Is everything okay?’ She sounds worried.
‘Everything’s fine. Yes, no problem,’ I say hurriedly to put her mind at rest. ‘No accidents.’
‘Oh.’ She falls silent again. ‘Maybe it was just a mistake.’ I hear the dip in her voice. ‘Okay. Merci .’
She’s about to hang up.
‘No, wait!’ I have no idea what I’m saying but I can’t let her think that Gabriel getting in touch, if that’s what he’s done, was a mistake. ‘He just wanted to get in touch.’
There’s a long pause.
‘Really? That doesn’t sound like my dad. Well …’ she hesitates ‘… not recently anyway. We haven’t been in touch for a while. Unless it’s to do with chocolate.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘He doesn’t have time for much else.’ She stops abruptly. Then her tone changes. ‘Wait. Who are you and how did you get my number? What kind of scam is this one?’
‘No, no. This is your dad’s phone. Really. I’m Clara, his assistant.’
‘Is that what he’s calling them these days?’ I can hear the hurt in her voice. ‘Don’t tell me, you’re a fan and also fancy my dad.’
‘No, honestly.’ My cheeks flush and burn. ‘I’m assisting him on his latest signature range. He’s just gone into a meeting, which is why I picked up his phone.’
There’s silence.
‘I’m here at the chocolate school, where Gabriel, your dad, is working.’
‘Near the farm?’ she asks, softer now.
‘Yes.’
I hear her exhale.
‘It’s beautiful up there right now,’ I continue.
There’s a pause. Then she says, ‘I bet. I haven’t been for years.’
‘That’s a shame. Your dad said how much you loved it there as a child. I think he’d probably like it if you were to come back and visit some time.’
Another pause. ‘Did he?’
‘Yes! We were visiting his cousin and wife there the other day. That must have been why he was ringing you.’
‘Right …’ There’s more silence. Then, ‘Well, that’s good to know.’
‘Shall I tell him you rang?’
‘Er … no, it’s fine. Thank you, er, Clara, wasn’t it? Merci .’ With that she hangs up.
I put the phone back on the counter and look at the time. I have to go. Daniel will be waiting for me.
‘Hey, Clara,’ I hear, as I leave the school. ‘Where did you come from?’ says Patrice.
‘Just leaving. Got a date!’ I smile. ‘What about you? What are you doing here on a Saturday?’
‘Taking a leaf out of your book. Working. And you?’ he asks.
‘Practising! As always!’ I say.
‘Well, enjoy your date!’
‘I will.’
‘Tell me all about it when you’re back. I’ve made gingerbread men. I’ll save them for when you come in. With hot chocolate. I loved your mint version!’
‘Thank you. Just reminded me of mint Aero, when I was a child. The orange one too. I could never decide which was my favourite. So I did them both.’ And suddenly I’ve got a spring in my step.
‘Well, let’s have some later.’ Then he raises an eyebrow. ‘If you come back.’
‘Oh, I’ll be back!’ I say, with confidence. ‘This is just a date. Have a good day. See you later for the gingerbread men.’
‘I’ll hold you to that!’
I turn to leave, walking slowly through the cavernous reception area. I take a deep breath. Twelve dates, like a box of chocolates, to work out how I feel. We’ve done the hot-chocolate date, the lunch date, the party. Now, here I go. Date number four.