He felt that was a bit harsh as he wasn’t personally responsible but now was not the time to argue that particular point.
‘Maybe you can change the date,’ he suggested and as soon as the words left his mouth he knew he’d stepped into shark-infested water and was about to lose a foot. Even Alphonse stiffened.
‘Change the date!’ Her voice pitched to a note he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard a human make before and he glanced up anxiously at the glass pendants, worried for their safety. ‘Change the date!’ Her eyes burned furiously. ‘Me! This is my home! Me change the date! I have dreamed of getting married here, all my life.’ She took a step towards him and Luc felt like he was facing one of the three Furies. She poked him in the chest, hard, not once but twice. ‘You,’ she said the word with such menace, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, ‘Want. Me. To. Change. My. Wedding. Day.’
Luc shifted on the spot like a schoolboy outside the principal’s office but held her gaze. ‘Idon’twantyou to but it’s a possible solution.’
‘What about them finding somewhere else to hold their wedding?’ She gave him a wild-eyed stare.
Luc had to be honest with her. ‘We need the money from the wedding to make up for the loss of income from not selling the grapes this year. Apparently my father made the agreement with Monsieur Carter-Jones in January. They are good friends as well as business partners. He won’t let him down. Besides the invitations have already been sent out.’ He’d only just discovered that fact in the car on the way back from Marthe’s, when his father had called him.
‘My invitations have gone out. The whole village is coming for thevin d’honneur.’
‘The whole village?’
‘Yes. It is tradition. LikeMamanand Papa. It is their anniversary. The date is very special.’ Tears shone in Yvette’s eyes now and his gut twisted in joint sympathy and guilt, even though none of this was his fault. ‘We cannot change it.’ Her face hardened. ‘You have to do something, Luc.’
Even Solange was now looking at him with a pleading expression.
He had to be honest about this. ‘I’m not sure what I can do. Couldn’t both weddings happen on the same day?’
‘Idiot!’ Yvette tossed her head. ‘How?’
‘It would be difficult,’ said Solange, her hand sweeping around the kitchen, rather ineffectually. ‘The food, the cooking.’
‘It is impossible.’ Yvette glared at her mother and Luc. ‘They are the ones that have to find somewhere else to hold their wedding.’ With that she tossed her hair and marched out of the kitchen, barging into Hattie, who was coming through the doorway.
It was the worst possible timing, thought Luc as Yvette paused, glaring at Hattie, who was rubbing her arm where she’d collided with the door jamb. Then, without apology, she stomped off shouting a string of insults about entitled foreigners, spoilt bitch brides and interlopers, leaving Luc glad that Hattie’s French vocabulary was extremely limited.
‘You okay?’ asked Luc, a note of apology in his voice, wanting to cross the floor and rub her arm for her.
Hattie looked a little bemused and stared down the corridor after Yvette. ‘Someone’s not very happy. Is everything all right? Can I do anything to help?’
Yvette did not deserve Hattie’s immediate and gentle sympathy. Luc felt an odd sense of protectiveness towards her. She obviously didn’t hold grudges.
He grimaced. ‘I’m sorry about that. Yvette’s a bit upset about something and we were having a small difference of opinion.’ He glanced at Solange.
‘Hattie, this is Solange Ferrier and this is Alphonse, her son, and that was Yvette, her daughter.’
‘Hello, pleased to meet you,’ said Hattie, striding in with a wicker basket of goodies looped over her arm. Luc was impressed by her cheery attitude and friendliness despite the somewhat awkward atmosphere. It was as if she was determined to set everyone at ease.
‘Bonjour,’ said Alphonse, a little awkwardly. ‘I apologise for my sister.’ Then to Luc’s annoyance, he flashed a charming grin at Hattie. ‘Not all of us are savages. Welcome to St Martin. If you need someone to show you around, I’ll be happy to do that.’ Luc watched as Alphonse turned on the charm, his soft brown eyes filling with warmth directed at Hattie. ‘Have you been to the village yet? There’s an excellent bar there.’
‘She’s been to the village,’ snapped Luc, narrowing his eyes.
‘Ah, but I know it better than you. And you’ll be busy building your new empire.’ Luc’s jaw tightened at Alphonse’s theatrical wink. ‘Perhaps I could show you some proper French hospitality.’
Hattie smiled. ‘That sounds lovely. Maybe when I’ve found my feet and settled in a bit.’
Alphonse nodded. ‘But of course. If there’s anything you need, you can always ask. I’ve lived here all my life. If you will excuse me, I must get to work.’ And with that he left.
‘Pretty flowers,’ said Solange in English, pointing to the bunches of blue and pink stocks.
Hattie gave the bunch of flowers an enthusiastic sniff.
‘I couldn’t resist the smell and life is too short not to buy things that give you pleasure.’
Luc felt an odd twinge in his chest at the picture she made, as her tawny ponytail bounced and she smiled with innocent happiness at her flowers.
