Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
If I were going to spend the next few months in France, I needed to settle in properly. I'd packed only about a week's worth of clothing and toiletries, certain I'd be back on a plane to San Francisco in no time. But now... well, now, who the hell knew what I was going to do? I would need to rent a car—if that was even possible—not to mention a full supply of shampoo, toothpaste, and probably more than just the two sundresses and leggings I'd brought.
I stepped out into the day. The warm summer sun hit my face, wrapping my whole being in a tender embrace. The scent of lavender and sunbaked earth filled my lungs, a sensory reminder of how far I was from the fog-laden Bay Area.
"Where are you off to then?" Colette's voice startled me. She seemed to materialize from the kitchen side door, an ever-present guardian of the chateau's comings and goings.
“ Bonjour . I need to find some sort of town to stock up on supplies since I’ll be here a bit longer than expected. I also need to figure out a car solution. Do you know if you can get a long-term car rental anywhere? And would I be able to call a taxi this far out?”
Colette's eyes twinkled with amusement as she studied me, a slow grin spreading across her face. "I guess it wouldn't have occurred to you."
"What wouldn't have?" I asked, curiosity piqued.
She chuckled. “Pierre left you this estate. And all its contents."
I tilted my head, waiting for the addendum.
Colette's laughter bubbled up again. "Including his Peugeot cabriolet."
"I assume that's a car?" I asked, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation.
"A very fun car. Come. Let me show you."
Slack-jawed, I followed as she led me around the house to the attached garage. She typed in a code, and the door lifted with a mechanical whir. "Remind me to give you all of the house codes," she said with a smirk. "We still have original plumbing, but Pierre installed high-tech doors all around."
As the door rose, revealing what lay within, my mouth fell open. There, bathed in the soft light filtering through dusty windows, sat a shiny silver convertible. It wasn't a new model—vintage, for sure—but it appeared to be in mint condition. Not that I knew anything about cars.
"No way," I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't even know what kind of car that is!"
"It is a Peugeot 504. But that's about all I know. Pierre loved this little thing. Restored it himself." Her voice was filled with fond remembrance.
"No. I can't," I protested weakly, even as my eyes roamed over the car's sleek lines. "This should go to étienne or Régis"
Colette flashed me a look, her eyebrow arched in a challenge. "Why? Because they are the boys?"
I nearly agreed, but caught myself. She was right. What a ridiculous idea that cars should automatically fall to the boys.
"It's so pretty," I said with a laugh, running my hand along the cool, smooth metal of the hood.
She laughed, the sound echoing in the garage. "It really is. She is old, but Pierre was meticulous about her upkeep. Let me see—I know the keys are over here somewhere."
"I don't think I would even know how to drive it," I admitted, a hint of worry creeping into my voice.
She raised her brow. "You cannot drive? Americans love to drive."
I laughed, the sound tinged with self-deprecation. "No, of course I can. It's just—well, my car back home can parallel park itself. I'm not exactly a skilled driver. I can't drive a stick shift."
"Ah. Not to worry. It is one of the first automatic cars. I only know this because Pierre made me drive it once. Nearly ran over a cow." She laughed at the memory, the sound rich with nostalgia.
While Colette rummaged through drawers, I timidly ran my hand along the shiny paint, marveling at how it caught the light.
"Ah, yes. Here." She pressed the keys into my palm. They felt warm, almost alive, as if charged with the history of all the journeys they'd taken.
"I'll be just like Grace Kelly," I murmured, more to myself than to Colette. When she raised an eyebrow, I explained, "It's this movie I always loved as a kid. To Catch a Thief ."
"Of course. Who doesn't love that one? You will be even more radiant than Grace."
I laughed incredulously, warmth spreading through my cheeks. "No need to butter me up. No one is more radiant than Princess Grace. But thank you."
"Now. You have Google Maps, but sometimes the reception is poor on these roads. But you head out that road there and make a right. It will take you straight into Douce Ville. It's a small village, but there is a pharmacy where you can find your toilette supplies. And Margot has a small boutique with some basic clothing. If you do not find what you like, you can make the drive to Aix-en-Provence. About an hour."
As I clutched the keys, feeling their weight in my hand, a surge of excitement coursed through me. And the fear of running over stray cows.