“Listen,” I begin. “Um, about the separate rooms—”
“That’s all right,” she interrupts me. “You have your reasons. Once my stomach is full, my mood will improve, and I’ll get over it.”
Should I still tell her I’m as good as engaged?I suppose it’s unnecessary. She made it clear she doesn’t need to hear my reasons.
With the same canned smile as earlier, Elise sets her phone on the table. “Want to read another letter before the food arrives?”
“Absolutely!”
She opens the file, but just as I move closer, someone clears their throat beside me.
Assuming it’s a server, I look up, preparing to answer a question related to our order. But the round-cheeked man by our table isn’t wearing a server’s uniform.
Dressed like a professor in corduroys and a bow tie and sporting a neat beard, he inclines his head. “Paul Debray, mayor of Vosier-en-Bas.”
“Theodor Delaroche.”
Elise introduces herself, too.
“Please, call me Paul,” he says while waving to a tall man in a fine suit. “Over here!”
He joins us. “Lorenzo Brisson. I’m the manager of this hotel.”
We repeat the introductions.
Paul steals a chair from the nearest table and sits down. “May I?”
The manager follows suit.
“Of course,” I say, hiding my irritation.
“Don’t worry, we won’t ruin your tête-à-tête,” Paul chuckles good-naturedly. “It’s just my habit to personally greet our village’s distinguished guests.”
And how would you know I’m a distinguished guest?Did my family take an unsolicited initiative? Or is booking pricey rooms in this hotel enough to qualify for the title?
“What gave me away?” I ask with a note of sarcasm.
Paul grins. “I ran into Walter, and he told me about you.”
That’s the thing about villages and small towns—everybody talks.
Lorenzo turns to Elise. “What an adventure, huh?”
“We were very lucky to stumble upon that cabin,” she says.
Paul turns to me. “Monsieur Delaroche, I am told there’s a small army of rescuers searching the area for your friends. They aren’t with the French gendarmerie or the police or the fire department or any other service I know of.”
“I’m from Monaco,” I say. “It’s a private search and rescue team.”
The mayor and the manager exchange a look.
“What line of business are you in, if I may ask?” Paul inquires with an angelic smile.
“Multiple lines,” I answer.
“Well, if you need more manpower or any assistance or anything at all, I’ll be happy to be of service,” Paul offers, handing us each a business card.
“I hope you’ll go out and have some fun despite the worry about your friends,” Lorenzo says. “Our annual Mulled Wine Festival kicks off at noon. The first day is always the best.”
