One Night at the Château: Escape to Provence with the stunningly feel-good and romantic new story from the bestselling author! by Veronica Henry

Author:Veronica Henry [Henry, Veronica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2025-02-27T00:00:00+00:00

16

Connie

I was up at six the next morning. My mind was on overdrive all night, going over all the food I was supposed to be cooking that evening, and all the little details that would make the weekend memorable. Getting up and getting on with things was the only antidote. I headed down to the kitchen to put away the last of the detritus from last night and laid the breakfast table, then headed into Barles to the boulangerie. It was still early so I didn’t think Rémy would be there, but I still felt my heart skip a beat as I opened the door. I breathed in freshly baked bread and chocolate and vanilla. But not him. I ordered quickly – croissants and pains au chocolat and several baguettes and some of the seeded bread that was so good with cheese.

When I got back, I was surprised to find the guests were all up and heading to the breakfast table, even though they hadn’t gone to bed until two. The women were all in slinky velour tracksuits and expensive trainers. They were off to a nearby hotel to spend the day being pampered in preparation for tonight’s celebrations. I brought in mimosa cocktails, and the largest box of chocolates from the chocolatier in Barles as a gift for Colette.

‘Happy birthday,’ I said to her. ‘I hope we’ll make it one to remember.’

‘That’s so kind. You shouldn’t have.’ She looked genuinely touched as she took the box from me. ‘Fifty. I can’t believe I’m half a century.’

‘It’s not so bad,’ I told her.

‘You’re never fifty.’ She looked at me in amazement. I sometimes couldn’t believe I was fifty either, but the past few weeks had made me feel about a hundred, so fifty felt young.

‘When I turned fifty,’ said Martine, ‘I told myself I wasn’t going to take any shit from anyone for the rest of my life.’

Colette cackled and raised her glass. ‘To taking no shit, girls.’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ said Gary, rolling his eyes. ‘You’ve never taken any shit from anyone.’

It was a good mantra, though, and it stuck with me. When I went back into the kitchen, I got out my phone and stared at it for a few moments before texting Daniel.

Did you get the email from Simon Lewin?

I didn’t have to wait long for a reply.

Yep

I hated yep. It was curt and rude and unhelpful and passive aggressive. And exactly the reply I should have expected from him. There was no follow-up. He didn’t give me a response or a reaction. I gritted my teeth in frustration. I shouldn’t have contacted him. I’d lost my higher ground. Now it was going to gnaw at me all day, and I needed to be on top of my game. I had a birthday feast for eight to prepare, the beds to make (even though we weren’t a hotel, we did re-make the beds and clean the bathrooms every day) and I had a couple of things to iron out with my guests.

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