The Double Rose by Lynne Erickson Valle

Author:Lynne Erickson Valle [Valle, Lynne Erickson]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Dove Press
Published: 2012-04-24T04:00:00+00:00

“That is it! Pull in over there.” Marie pointed east toward an exceptionally large house set on a hill. “Wow, I can’t believe it! This place looks exactly how I remember it from my vision.” Marie was as elated as a gold miner who had struck the mother lode. They pulled in front of a centuries-old estate.

The grounds were well kept, suggesting the property had not been abandoned. Magnificent annual garden lined the landscape along the driveway. The various shades of blue and purple mingled with white flowers created a colorful, eye-pleasing display. Together they ascended the dozen steps leading to the front entrance.

An elderly couple answered the door. “Bonjour, may we help you?”

Wondering what kind of reception they would receive, Marie introduced them, “Bonjour, my name is Marie Fitzroy, and this is Josh Ryan. By any chance do you have an old library in your estate?”

“Oui. What are you looking for?”

“My grandmother, Josephine Léglise, brought my mother, Sophie, here when she was a little girl.”

“Sophie Léglise! I used to baby-sit your mother when she was a child. Ask her if she remembers Marianne Dubois. This is my husband, Jacques. Come in, come in!”

“Are you two sweethearts?” asked Jacques.

Without hesitation, Marie protested the notion. “No! We are friends.”

Josh smirked at the couple. “It has taken the better part of my life just to get her to talk to me.”

The kind elderly couple laughed affectionately.

Marie blushed out of embarrassment and gave Josh a look that conveyed her message. Really? However, his grin confessed that he was pleased with himself.

The picturesque interior of the estate highlighted vintage furniture and décor. Tapestries and original paintings lined the walls of lengthy hallways.

The initial sight of the library was beyond anything Marie had imagined. The twenty-foot-high walls were lined from floor to ceiling with shelves containing thousands of books. Heavy, dark-burgundy drapes framed an enormous set of three windows, each made from numerous small squared window panes. Two large desks sat catty-corner from each other in the center of the room. A banquet table was erected nearby with someone's research neatly organized on its surface.

Jacques removed one book from a shelf and handed it to Marie. “Where are you staying?”

“We have rooms at the Ritz in Paris, but we are hoping to find a little inn somewhere nearby for a few nights.” Marie examined the book.

“You will stay here for as long as you like,” Jacques insisted. “No one lives here now. You will not inconvenience anyone. We are the caretakers for the property. Our home is two kilometers north.” He gestured toward his house. “With the exception of the renovators for the exterior east wall, no one will be here until Saturday night.” His well-wrinkled hand motioned to the east. “There are tools, ladders, and scaffolding in that area, so please be careful. The grounds are beautiful . . . although,” he looked up briefly through the window, “the sky is clear now, rain is forecasted to arrive midweek and last until the weekend.”

“Merci, Jacques and Marianne.

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