Barbara McMahon - French Escape

What would the years after that hold?

Right now was not the time to grow philosophical.

She chose the pink top to go with the khaki slacks. She would wear nicer shoes. Every restaurant would be mobbed because of the holiday. Casual was the dress of the day.

The excitement shining in her eyes couldn’t be ignored. Was she ready for this?

“Do you like growing grapes and making wine?” Jeanne-Marie asked once they were finally seated in Le Chat Noir. The wait had seemed interminable, with Alexandre complaining every two minutes he was hungry. Most of the people waiting, however, had been in high spirits. The festive air permeated the village. Matt hadn’t minded the wait. For the first time in a long while he felt connected with others.

“Is that something you always wanted to do?” she added.

“Ever since I was a kid, I knew this was my role in life. I enjoy it. And when I can take a vacation, it seems the best part is returning home. I can’t imagine anything else I’d rather do. I suspect you never yearned to be an innkeeper.” He thought of the acres of vineyards, the constant worry about the weather or pests. The heavy, laden vines just before harvest, the purple grapes looking almost frosted. He missed being there.

She laughed. Matt was struck again by the sound of her laughter. He let his gaze settle on her for a moment. She looked lovely tonight with color in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes. He would like to hear that laughter more. He suspected that she didn’t laugh nearly enough.

“Not at all. Before I met Phillipe, I planned to be an art historian, maybe teach. I enjoyed my classes at university and wanted to have others find the same delight in studying paintings by the masters. But once I fell in love, all I wanted was a family and a happy life. Strange how things worked out. Phillipe hadn’t wanted to run the inn, but refused to sell it when his grandfather died. Even his mother suggested selling and it had been her childhood home. I never expected to own it myself and run it. Still, look how fortunate I am.”

“Indeed.” Making the best of the situation. Which he struggled to do as well.

After their order had been taken, he leaned back as Alexandre chattered away, talking about his day, the rides he’d gone on and the fact he’d seen all the parade since Matt had held him so high.

“Definitely a wonderful thing,” Jeanne-Marie said, wishing Phillipe had had more time with his son. Alexandre had been a baby when he died. He’d never known the joy of his conversation, his enchantment with life. And Alexandre would never know his father except by what Jeanne-Marie and his grandparents told him.

Matt leaned forward slightly. “No time for sadness. This is a celebration.”

She looked up. “I’m sorry, I was thinking about his father and how much he missed. I really appreciate your coming today. Look how much he liked it.”

Matt looked at Alexandre. “My son was that age when he was killed. Think of all he missed.”

“Oh, you’re right, this is not a time to grow melancholy. Thank you for inviting us to dinner. Afterward, we’ll head back, grab a good seat on the veranda and watch the fireworks. They are the highlight of the day for me. You’ll love them.”

Matt pushed away thoughts of another woman, another fete, and focused on the woman with him tonight. One evening didn’t mean he’d forgotten his family any more than Jeanne-Marie had forgotten hers. They were both alive. Life was meant for the living.

Several of the guests at the inn were seated on the veranda by the time Jeanne-Marie, Matt and Alexandre returned. A few chairs were empty, which she asked him to stake out for them while she went to get the cookies and cakes she’d prepared earlier in the week for just this occasion. Soon everyone on the veranda was sipping iced lemonade and munching on the desserts.

The bursting of colorful fireworks was the perfect ending to the celebration. Jeanne-Marie couldn’t remember a happier day since Phillipe died. She was growing more comfortable around Matt and appreciated his attention to her son. He must have been a great father to his own child. Would Phillipe have been as attentive and involved? He’d worked long hours, and gone climbing every chance he got. He hadn’t curtailed his activities after Alexandre had been born, but as an infant, he wouldn’t have been much company to his father. As he’d grown older, would Phillipe have included him?

No sense worrying about what might have been. Phillipe was gone. Never to return. And Matt? He was here today. Beyond that, she didn’t care to look.

JEANNE-MARIE put Alexandre to bed, but she felt too restless and keyed up to sit quietly after the fireworks. She went back to the common area, straightening cushions and pillows here and there. Rene had taken off and she’d close up in another hour or so. Several of the guests had gone back to the village to enjoy dancing at one or two of the places that offered a band.

Wandering out onto the veranda a few minutes later, she was surprised to see Matt still sitting there. Feeling her heart lurch a bit, she went to join him.

“Not going back to town?” she asked as she sat beside him.

“Nothing there for me. Does the town always have such an amazing display of pyrotechnics?”

“A lot of the annual budget goes to them. Fabulous, I think.”

There was a muffled boom in the distance and a faint glow in the sky.

“Marseilles is finishing up,” she commented. “I remember a few years ago we were amazed with their display. But this suits me fine. I like not being in the midst of a huge crowd,” she said, gazing out across the dark sea. In the distance a ship’s lights could be seen, gliding toward the east.

“Do you go to Marseilles often?” he asked.

“Not as often as I probably ought to. Alexandre’s grandparents live there and he visits them from time to time. I’m taking him over on Monday for a couple of days. I’ll do some shopping while I’m there, but pretty much St. Bart suits all our needs.”

“What time are you taking him?”

“In the afternoon. Why?”

“I could drive you both and then take you to dinner.”

Jeanne-Marie tried to see his expression in the faint light spilling from the French doors. But his face was in shadow. Another dinner? She swallowed hard. They would drop Alexandre off at his grandparents. It would just be the two of them. No matter how she thought about tonight, a dinner in Marseilles, just the two of them, would be a date.

A touch of panic. Was she ready for such a step? Not that it meant more than two people enjoying a meal together. He hadn’t asked her to run away with him.

“Why?” she blurted out.

“As a thank-you for your hospitality.”

“I’m an innkeeper, you’re a guest. Nothing beyond payment for your room is needed.” She felt deflated. It was merely a thank-you. She’d thought he meant more.

“Then, because I’d enjoy sharing another meal with you. I’d like to spend a bit more time together before I head for home.”

Her heart sped up a little. “Just you and me?”

“Unless you wish to take Alexandre to his grandparents later. Then he could eat with us,” Matt said easily.

It would be less like a date if Alexandre were with them. But—there was nothing wrong with having a meal with a guest. Especially on his last day. She would view it as the thank-you gesture he said initially.

“He should go to his grandparents first. And yes, I’d like to have dinner with you.” The minute she said it, she wished she could snatch back the words. It was a date! She hadn’t dated in years. She never thought she would again, at least not until she was over Phillipe’s death. Which she wasn’t. Yet. Or was she?