The train slid into the station and Claire dragged her bag out into the snow toward a towering Christmas tree decked in blue lights, silver stars, and glittering gold ornaments. She hoped the Uber driver spoke English and the hotel was near.
Chapter 7
Aftercreepingalongcrowded,cobblestoned streets and crossing ancient bridges over canals and a river, the driver stopped. Claire climbed out from the back seat and steadied herself against the car door.
Shutters framed every mullioned window in the half-timbered, five-floored stone château. Thousands of white lights decorated pine boughs wrapped around columns and balconies. Two petite Christmas trees, bedecked with electric candle lights, stood sentry on either side of the entrance, twinkling in welcome.
The front doors had been carved pine when she and David honeymooned in this hotel more than twenty-five years earlier. Otherwise, the establishment was the same, probably since the seventeenth century. The glass doors opened, and a waterfall of French spoken by a dark haired, elegant woman welcomed her into the wood-paneled reception area.
“I am Claire Didier.”
Another torrent of French rang like a song.
Claire wished she could remember the French she’d studied, but nothing besidesBonjourcame to mind. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak French.”
“Ah. I am so sorry, Madame Didier. As your husband does, I assumed you do as well. Where is Monsieur?” Her kohl-rimmed dark eyes sparkled. “We haven’t seen him in more than a year.”
This was a small town. Claire didn’t think she should pass on this news in case Sophie didn’t know and heard it. She’d be terribly shocked. Yet, this woman deserved to know. She’d tell her after she told Sophie. “I’m alone and very tired. If I could please go to my room?”
“Of course. We’ll be sure to welcome Monsieur when he arrives. We have his usual room all ready, at his usual discounted rate. Your passport please.”
David’s discount awakened Claire’s curiosity, and she handed over her passport.
“You’ll be with us for a week?”
Claire had no idea, but she knew the hotel was in high demand during the Christmas season. “Yes, I think so.”
The woman nodded. “I’m Chrissy and will be happy to arrange anything you like. Your luggage is awaiting you. Follow me please.”
Claire hesitated. “Can you tell me…do you know the address of the Soltner Vineyard?”
The woman laughed. “Everyone in Colmar knows the Soltner Vineyard. You wish to visit?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Drivers know it well. Just call the front desk ten minutes before you wish to leave, and we’ll arrange for a car to be waiting.”
Claire could have kissed her. How was the place known throughout Colmar yet not have a website? She followed Chrissy up a sweeping, red-carpeted staircase with hearts carved out of the white pine balustrade. She climbed a second flight of steps and walked down a quiet corridor to the last room. She tripped on the thick carpet. Room 22. Their honeymoon suiteandDavid’s usual room.
Tiredness pulled at her arms and legs. How would she survive the memories?
Just like her last visit, ancient wood beams crossed the white walls and ceiling. Tall, double-paned windows overlooked the courtyard. A comfy couch sat in a side nook. New gray silk drapes hung on either side of the windows and the headboard of the inviting queen-sized bed. A round intimate table for two, wearing a matching floor-length gray silk skirt, stood before the window. Chrissy pulled a corkscrew from her pocket and opened the bottle of white wine chilling in a silver ice bucket sitting on the table next to a platter of cheeses, grapes, and a baguette. Two crystal wine glasses shone in the soft light. Chrissy poured a glass of wine and handed it to her.
Claire inhaled a slightly fruity aroma and sipped a divinely crisp vintage—bright with a hint of sweetness. She remembered the Rieslings and Gewürztraminers they’d tasted when they’d honeymooned here. She found the Rieslings cloyingly sweet, but the Gewürztraminers were a bit peppery, spicy. This wine was dry, more like a Chablis, but not quite as light, with a fruity taste she couldn’t quite place.
Chrissy put the heavy, old-fashioned room key on the table. “I’ll keep an eye out for Monsieur Didier. Pleasant dreams.”
Claire dreaded having to tell the charming woman that David wouldn’t be returning. She also knew her dreams would be everythingbutpleasant. She removed the linen napkin wound around the wine bottle and examined the label. Château Soltner, Muscat, Vin D’Alsace. No address or website on it either.
She ripped off a piece of baguette. She never knew David had always reserved the suite in which they’d spent their honeymoon.
She peeked into the bathroom—the same marble soaking tub they’d enjoyed on their wedding night. They’d soaked until the water chilled then ran laughing to the bed and dove under the down comforter. She didn’t remember leaving their room for three days.
The realization that he’d been a hopeless romantic hit her, and a yawn of hurt opened in her at the thought of disappointing him by not joining him here. She’d never forgive herself. Had David? The same portrait of Bartholdi standing before his Statue of Liberty hung in the same place on the wall. They had turned it over when they made love, not wanting him to witness their intimacy.
A soft Christmas carol of bells played in the courtyard. She stared beyond the wavy, glass-paned window. A little girl screeched with delight as her father and mother held her hands and lifted her, high enough to see a lit-up Santa and his reindeer atop a café’s roof.
Claire shut the drapes on their joy, their laughter, their loving family. She rested her forehead against the smooth fabric.David, I am so, so sorry I was such an idiot.
