“I suppose not. But at the moment, I really do need to get back to work. Madame—”
“Rosalyn.”
“Rosalyn, the so-called museum is a mess, with issues with electricity and water damage. It’s too dangerous for someone to go poking around looking for family heirlooms. If I can, I’ll get it cleaned up and ready to visit by tourist season, though I can’t promise even that. Please tell Madame Kinsley she will be welcome to go through the place at that time.”
Chapter Thirty-one
I’m afraid my meeting with Jérôme Comtois was a bust,” Rosalyn said later that day when she found Emma outside in the parking lot, smoking. “On all scores. He’s not interested in being represented by yours truly, either.”
Emma stood at attention. “You talked with him? What did you say? What didhesay?”
“I gave him my standard spiel about wanting to rep small French champagne producers, and he said, in a nutshell, ‘Thanks, but no, thanks.’ He even said it in English.”
“What about the collection?”
“Apparently there are electrical and water issues that need fixing before he’s willing to let anyone in, and that wouldn’t be before the tourist season. He said that in English, too. I’m starting to believe he doesn’t think highly of my French.”
Emma coughed into her hand, then gestured to her cigarette. “I know, I know. I smoke too much. So, where did you find Comtois?”
“I see him sometimes in his fields when I walk early in the morning. I didn’t realize it was him at first, but I finally put it together.Anyway, I owed him some money, so I was carrying around the cash in case I saw him.”
“You owed Jérôme Comtois money?” asked Emma. “I thought you didn’t even know who he was.”
“It’s a long story involving an American credit card.”
“Ah, couldn’t get the card to work at the gas pump when the store was closed, huh?”
“Okay, I guess it’s not that long a story.”
?With Gaspard back in town, Blondine cooked a formal multicourse dinner every night. The amount of planning, shopping, cooking, and cleaning was daunting to the typical American sensibility.
One night the feast began with butternut squash soup, which was followed bycoquilles Saint-Jacquesin wine and butter sauce with rice, andîle flottantefor dessert. The next it was duckconfitandcassoulet, green beans in butter, salad, and an elaborate cheese course. After that wasdos de cabillaud, lentils, potatoes cooked in duck fat, and vanilla panna cotta covered in fruit and topped with an almond cookie. Everything was accompanied, of course, with plenty of crusty bread and champagne.
In regular attendance were Gaspard, André, Blondine, Emma, and Rosalyn. Occasionally they would be joined by Dominique and Dani, and twice by Pietro and his wife, Colette. Sometimes another friend from town would stop by—usually with no advance notice. Blondine seemed to expect it, and always made extra.
One night Gaspard announced, “I have invited Jérôme Comtois to the Gathering of Vintners in the Vranken Pommery cellars this weekend.”
“He never comes to such things,” said Blondine.
“He will this time,” said Gaspard. “I made sure. I am not withoutinfluence in this town, especially now I am on theComité Champagne.”
“My hero!” said Emma. “But I’m not sure it will do much good. He doesn’t seem willing to let me into his collection.”
“Try again, though I’m not sure how you expect to get to the party since it is being held in the cellars.”
Emma swore. “It’s true. These old buildings weren’t exactly built with broken legs in mind. But never you mind.” She let out a sigh. “I’ll figure out a way.”
“There are one hundred and sixteen steps leading down to thecrayèresof Pommery,” Rosalyn pointed out. “And the same number back up.”
“Good thing I’m rich,” said Emma with a grin.
?The following night Gaspard announced he was dining with friends in Reims, Blondine planned on spending the evening with her mother, and André had the night to himself. Emma and Rosalyn were on their own for dinner.
Feeling like defiant teenagers, they decided to have a “colonial dinner,” which consisted of all the snacks they wanted and absolutely no cooking. They laid out a feast of a crusty baguette, two kinds of pâté, a chicken terrine, olives, potato chips, smoked salmon, and, in concession to good health, two preparedsaladesthe French seemed very fond of, one of grated carrots and the other of lentils. Luscious Swiss chocolate bars were dessert.
It was fun to speak in fluent English; Emma and Rosalyn had developed a patois around Blondine, conversing primarily in French but switching to English here and there when Rosalyn couldn’t think of a word, or when Emma wanted to be sure Rosalyn understood something.
“I knew it,” said Blondine when she arrived late that evening and took in the detritus of their feast on the table. “You should have come to my mother’s house for a proper meal. My father will be angry.”
