“Bon. Let us go to a place where we can speak privately. Would you like an Alsatian breakfast? I know of a wonderful patisserie.”
She liked this Jeel-bear far more than the man she’d met the day before. “Yes.”
He offered his elbow, and she held it as they walked through Petite Venise, the medieval Old Town of Colmar. Half-timbered buildings with steeply pitched roofs of terracotta tiles lined the canals. Windows in every building displayed Christmas: Gnomes, teddy bears, stars, ornaments, straw animals, giant ginger people. Stuffed white storks with red ribbons around their necks bedecked every souvenir shop.
They entered an alleyway, and Gilbert opened a dark red door with a white lace curtain covering its window. Bells clanged a cheery jingle, and the scent of baking butter and sugar and chocolate enticed her to enter a cave-like dining room filled with pine chairs and tables. Gilbert led them to the back where niches and shelves were carved out of the butter-yellow rock walls.
“Whatwasthis place?” she asked.
“This cave was part of a farmhouse, where they kept animals.” He ran his hand along the ledge of a large indentation. “This was where they put hay and grain for the animals to feed. The higher, smaller shelves were for candles and lanterns.”
“It’s so very old and charming. I’m glad it has been preserved.”
He pulled out a chair for her. “May I order an Alsatian specialty for you?”
“Please.” She pulled off her scarf and coat.
He called out to a young woman wearing a lacey white blouse and red apron. He spoke in French, and she hurried to the kitchen.
She returned and placed a bottle of clear liquid and two short glasses on the table.
Gilbert poured. “This is a local clear brandy, not the stuff tourists buy in the market. This Mirabelle is very special.”
Claire never had brandy so early in the day, but she sipped. “Umm. Sweet yet fresh and a bit of a tart taste. Are Mirabelle plums yellow?”
“Yes.” Gilbert’s eyebrows rose. “Did David help you to train your palate?”
A memory of David feeding her a Mirabelle plum while her eyes were closed made her smile. “I suppose he did.” She took another sip. “This is a bit strong for me so early in the day. May I have a cappuccino?”
“A café crème. Certainly.”
The waitress delivered the coffee and two plates of plum tarte.
“I left a message at the hotel yesterday. I felt badly about the way Iwelcomedyou.”
“I was out all day yesterday and didn’t get your call. I was shopping for fabrics and got back pretty late.” She placed a napkin on her lap. “The last time I was in France, nearly thirty years ago, I bought so much I had to ship cartons of fabrics to my friend Marti. I might still have some left.”
He laughed. “Did you go to Tissus aux Deux RR?”
She shook her head. “Tell me more.”
“They have the best home décor fabrics.” He rubbed his palms along his thighs. “After Sophie passed, I needed something to take my mind from her and wine, something Luca and I could to together. So, we began redecorating the château and had great fun choosing colors. We finished the grand salon and the first of twelve guest bedrooms. We have much more to do. But now that Luca is back at school, I think he is relieved he no longer has time for this project.”
“Do you make the drapes and cover the furniture, yourself?”
“Oh, no. I work with a retired woman who was a tailor. She enjoys sewing and earning a bit of money, and I enjoy her company. She has great experience and excellent skills. Do you sew other things besides maillots?”
“How do you know—”
“David bragged quite a bit about your designs.”
She smiled a sad smile and nodded. “I design drapes, pillow shams, tablecloths, clothing. I enjoy the challenges of working with different fabrics.”
“Ah, yes, velvet has a…” he ran his fingers back and forth along the table, “you call it a nap?”
“Yes, and because of the nap it changes color.”
“Ask me how I know of this quality.”
