French Holiday by Sarah Ready

Author:Sarah Ready [Ready, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781954007475
Publisher: Swift & Lewis Publishing LLC

30

Pierre isn’t alone. He didn’t do it on purpose, but somehow, on the way from his house to the chateau, Camille found her way onto his motorcycle.

He gives me a sheepish smile while Camille circles the grassy knoll on the lakeside edge of property. The sloping cliff is a tumbling drop. As she leans forward to look over the edge, the wind whips her hair and she laughs delightedly.

Today she’s in cropped navy pants and a white boatneck tee. She has a yellow scarf threaded through her hair and even though she didn’t bring any apples, the redness of her cheeks reminds me of the plump, red fruit.

“Dinner parties are always better with friends,” Pierre says apologetically.

I can’t help but smile at him because he looks so uncomfortable. His hair is messy from the motorcycle helmet and his blue-green eyes are embarrassed.

“They are. We’ll have fun,” I reassure him. Hopefully we’ll have enough food for three.

Pierre makes a noise and I don’t know whether he’s agreeing or disagreeing. But then he turns all that charm on and says, “You look beautiful. I hope later we can—”

“Thank you for inviting me.” Camille pushes next to Pierre and elbows him in the side, cutting him off. “I brought apple tart.”

“Oh,” I say in surprise, because, well, I didn’t invite her, but…apple tart. “No. Thank you.”

She waves my thanks away and then casts her gaze over the chateau walls. The shadows from the turrets fall over the green grass, and the late afternoon air smells of wind over water, and sun warming stone.

“Is Noah here?” she asks. Her considering gaze drifts to the arched entrance.

Ah.

Aha.

That’s why she came.

I should’ve known.

“Camille has told her father, her mother, her brothers, her cousins, all the orchard employees—”

“Not all,” she says, holding up a finger.

“That she is friends with the famous Noah Wright.”

“Hmmm.” I give a stiff smile. Is she allowed to claim that? Can she really say that? Did he tell her they were friends?

“Is he here?” she asks again.

Pierre gives me a hopeful look. I imagine if I tell Camille where Noah is, then she’ll leave us alone. And then Pierre and I can have a romantic dinner in the garden. Which is what this was all about.

I nod and point to the entrance. “He’s inside. But he might be busy, he just…”

Camille doesn’t wait to hear more, she’s already taken off. Once she’s disappeared through the entrance, Pierre takes a step closer and smiles.

The aloneness of standing on a cliffside, with a chateau above us, a lake below us, and the soft country sounds, fills me with the expectation of a soft-focus moment.

Pierre leans close, his eyes warm.

“Bonjour, Meredith,” he says in a warm voice.

My chest tightens. I take a step back, flustered, and smooth my hands over my dress.

“Bonjour,” I say quickly.

Then to cover the confusing and conflicting emotions wrestling inside me, I nod toward the chateau. “Dinner’s ready. We can eat outside if you want to help me carry it?”

Pierre walks next to me through the dim great hall.

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