We’re okay. I’m confident that we’ll get over the strangeness of the last few years and one day hopefully we’ll be stronger than ever.
We have a lot of people coming tonight. The whole town has been invited, and most of the factory workers who live farther afield will be here too. We’ve had a number of etched Eau de Sainte Églantine bottles made to give to workers and their families so they can fill them and take them home. The bottles are reusable. They were Jackson’s idea—they’ll be sold at Thermalisme so anyone who wants to can buy a bottle and fill it themselves from thebuvette.
“Hiya,” Lise says as she comes into the marquee.
It’s only 5 p.m. but she wants to capture the action playing out across different light levels, so she’ll stick around as the evening wears on.
“Hello,” I reply warmly, offering her a glass of champagne.
“Can’t. Working.” She lifts up her camera.
“One,” I insist.
“Fine. Where’s yours?”
“Can’t. Working.”
“One,” she insists.
“Fine.” I pick up another glass and she grins as I clink it against hers.
“So, I’ve got to ask,” she says.
Oh God. What now?
“Are you and Étienne going to get me to do your wedding pics?”
I laugh. “You’re getting ahead of yourself.”
“Only a matter of time,” she replies. “He’s not a pawn, Lise. He’s the one!” she mimics me.
My cheeks heat as I play-punch her arm.
“I’m just kidding.” She bestows a fond smile on me as she gives me a one-armed hug. “That was the greatest line ever.”
“I don’t know,I’ve never seen anyone fall that hard or that fastcomes close,” I tease her, recalling how that line haunted me. I never thought I’d be able to compete.
“I’ve seen someone else fall harder and faster,” she replies meaningfully.
“Who?”
“You.”
I tilt my head, pausing, and then I nod. “Okay, that’s fair.”
She grins. “But he wasn’t far behind you.”
I laugh and look around. “I hope he arrives soon. He had an emergency with some tourists—their camper van broke down so he stayed back to fix it for them.”
At least I know why he’s late. I’m not sure he would have come at all if Sandrine had been here.
It’s been almost two weeks since she flew home. Albert let her go the morning after he came to Les Saules, but not in anger. I suspect he’ll forgive her eventually, but right now he just wants some time to get to know his grandson without his daughter’s interference.
Last week, he visited Étienne at the garage and it was heartwarming to see him walking around and showing genuine interest in Étienne’s work. And last night, Étienne came to Château Angèle for the first time since he was seven to help celebrate Albert’s eightieth birthday. We made our way up the footpath together and paused at the gate before walking through, hand in hand. Albert had invited a collection of close friends and colleagues for a champagne reception on the lawn. As soon as he saw us, he broke away and came over.
“Did you know that Étienne’s great-great-great-grandfather was the one who originally installed this fountain in town?” I found myself saying as we were standing right beside it.
Albert’s bushy eyebrows almost hit his hairline as he stared with astonishment at his grandson.
