The Seven Turns of the Snail's Shell: A Novel (30 page)

Jacques was next. “To the wedding!
À la vôtre
!”

“
À la vôtre
!” They raised their glasses again, this time towards Elise and Diamanté.

C-C was next. “
À l’amour
!
À la vôtre
!” He looked in the direction of Anna.

“
À l’amour
!
À la vôtre
!” A wild clapping of hands and cheering came from the exuberant crowd on the terrace as they joined the little group in a resounding repetition of C-C’s toast.

Anna turned to Diamanté. She raised her glass to his. “To family!”

The crowd erupted in cheers as Diamanté raised his glass. “
À la vôtre
!”

The flutes emptied, Jacques returned to the kitchen. Diamanté joined him. The restaurant was full. Martine raced around, serving everyone drinks. Elise excused herself to go upstairs, saying she would see them all later for dinner. With a twinkle in his eye, Guy sat down at a table by the bar to read the evening newspaper, deliberately leaving C-C and Anna alone.

C-C took Anna’s hand. “Come take a walk with me before dinner. We never eat until after the crowd subsides a bit so my father can join us. Besides, I want to show you something.” He led her out into the open square where a long line of hungry people awaited tables. “It’s been this way ever since the beginning of August,” he said. “Diamanté had to hire extra staff. It will last all month. Then it will be a quiet little village again.”

The summer evening was warmed by a brilliant yellow sun in a tranquil sky. Gentle breezes ruffled the leaves of the trees, and dusk hovered on the horizon.

Anna clung tightly to C-C’s arm for support on the rough pavement. “These sandals aren’t designed for walking on these uneven stones,” she said. “If we’re going very far, I’d better get some different shoes.”

“It’s just on the outskirts of the village. I want to show you my house.”

“Why not take the car, then?”

C-C laughed. “It won’t be necessary.” They had reached the Peugeot.

She fetched her carry-on from the trunk, reached into the pocket, and pulled out a pair of flat, white sandals. After changing from her high heels, she retrieved Nathalie’s tin box from the front seat.

“Think I’ll bring this, too,” she said of the carry-on. Suddenly feeling the effects of the very long day she had put in since boarding the flight at LAX, she added, “I could sure use a bit of freshening up. You do have a bathroom, don’t you?”

C-C laughed again as he took her bag. “With indoor plumbing
quand même
.”

As they strolled through the village square, Anna noticed that a decorated platform had been erected at the far end, and little white lights glittered cheerfully around an area cordoned off for dancing.

“What’s going on?”

“A
fête
. All the villages in Provence hold at least one in August. Then the inhabitants of the surrounding villages attend. Many tourists come as well. See, they are buying souvenirs.” He nodded towards the crowd wandering through stalls that had been set up by the local artisans. Above them, residents of the village peered from their open windows, and in the park a group of seniors played a game of
pétanque
on a sandy lot under some shade trees.

As they moved on, Anna became aware of a large, brown dog with floppy ears and devoted doggy eyes lumbering along at their heels.

“Is he your dog?”

“No, that is Max, the café dog. Diamanté told me that he just appeared one day and never left. Ever since I arrived here in December, he has been my constant companion. Follows me wherever I go, waits patiently outside the door, snoozes, then we go together to the café to be fed.”

Anna laughed. “Where does he sleep?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know. He’s always waiting outside the door in the morning when I come out, but he’s not there during the night. I’ve looked.”

When they reached the outskirts of the village, C-C pointed to a two-story house with terracotta-tiled roof and a sun-drenched, yellow façade. Light sage green shutters framed the windows.

“That’s the house I bought in January.”

“It’s charming, C-C,” Anna exclaimed.

They entered the front garden through a wooden gate. The pathway leading to the front door was lined on each side with red roses interspersed with lavender. It wasn’t what she had expected at all. On the carved wooden door was a simple sign above the brass knocker. The sign read “
Soins Médicaux
,
Docteur
Charles-Christian Gérard.” C-C opened the door for her. With a sigh, Max plopped himself on a mat by the door to wait.

“The interior was pretty ramshackle when I bought the house. The path was all weeds. I’ve made the front part of the house into my doctor’s office for now.”

The all-white foyer with a black-tiled floor just inside the door obviously served as the outer waiting room. It held only a couple of curved wooden chairs that were upholstered in black leather, a small antique oval end table with a lamp, an iron umbrella stand, and a bookcase filled with medical books. A framed poster leaning against a wall advertised the work of Médecins Sans Frontières. Through the adjacent door, Anna could see an all-white room. The only piece of furniture in it was a small reception desk with a PC.

“It is sparse, but I don’t see that many patients here,” C-C’s voice echoed in the empty space. “There is one examination room and space for another, but I haven’t finished it, and so far I haven’t needed it.”

Anna saw no one around. She asked, “Do you have a receptionist?”

“No. I don’t need one. I can keep most of the patient records on the PC myself. There aren’t that many.”

“What about a nurse?”

“There is a nurse nearby, if I need her. So far, I have only had to call on her a few times, to help with the delivery of a new baby or to assist with an emergency tonsillectomy.”

“So it’s a one-doctor operation then?”

He answered matter-of-factly. “Yes, and I like it this way. I have more time with my patients. In Paris, in the hospital, there was always chaos. There was no time to spend with the healing process of the whole individual. It was just boom, boom, boom, get the patient through the system and out the door.”

“You don’t have many emergencies, then?”

“Not many.”

He led her to the back of the house where there was a large kitchen. It was low-ceilinged, well-equipped, and the walls and cabinets were painted a soft celadon. The wall above the gray marble work counter was covered with antique tiles. A large wooden table and four chairs filled the center of the room. An antique copper chandelier coated with a greenish blue patina hung above the table.

“It doesn’t look like anyone has been using the kitchen,” she remarked.

“It’s progressing. One of the village handymen has been doing the work, on and off. I don’t know when he’ll finish, if ever, but I don’t have much use for a kitchen anyway.” He looked at her sheepishly. “I eat most of my meals in the restaurant.”

“I can’t say that I blame you.” Anna looked through the French doors to the back garden. “What’s that?” She pointed toward a quaint, two-story building with a mansard roof that sat near the back wall. The single French door which served as its entrance was surrounded by potted plants. A shaded open window with a small iron railing and a window box full of flowers jutted out from the roof above the door. Windows on each side of the small building held boxes overflowing with salmon pink geraniums.

“It’s the caretaker’s cottage. His name is Clo.”

“Claude?”

“No, Clo, C-L-O. He’s Cambodian. I hired him shortly after I bought the house. He keeps the grounds for me and helps me with the plumbing, too.”

“He lives in it? It looks so small.”

“It’s quite nice now. I told him he could live there if he could make it habitable. He has outfitted it with a small kitchen and comfortable salon downstairs, and his bedroom is upstairs. He says he’s alone and that’s all he needs. His wife died several years ago. You will like him. Come, let’s go upstairs. I want to show you the rest.” He picked up her carry-on and took her arm.

They climbed the varnished wooden staircase to the second level. Anna paused at the top of the stairs, her breath taken away by the sight of the elegant room with parquetry floor and carved dark wood wall paneling in front of her. A large, gilt-framed mirror hung over the mantel of a massive marble fireplace. The room’s single piece of furniture, a split chaise lounge upholstered in brown and gold brocade, sat on a tapestry rug in front of the fireplace.

“The chandelier and the mirror came with the house,” C-C explained when he saw her studying the multifaceted globe that was suspended over the center of the room from a sparkling crystal chandelier.

Anna walked through a curtained doorway to the left of the salon. The adjacent room, also paneled in carved wood, was carpeted in soft midnight blue. A vast, four-poster bed dominated the space. Against the opposite wall stood an antique Bartholdi desk with black lacquer diamond inlay on its center. A gold-framed oval mirror hung between two ceiling-high French windows.

“My bedroom,” he said, watching her as he placed her carry-on against the wall under the oval mirror. “It’s the only other room that’s finished. The rest of the house is closed off for now.”

The breeze wafting in through the windows carried the scent of lavender and roses from the back garden. The room was cool in spite of the intense heat of the day.

“It’s a handsome house,” she exclaimed as she placed his mother’s tin box on top of the desk. On the gold-tooled, black leather writing surface, two piles of correspondence caught her eye. Tied neatly with string that looked suspiciously like suture thread were the letters she had sent him a decade before. They had been opened and carefully returned to their envelopes. Next to them lay a small stack of soft pale blue envelopes, unaddressed except for a large “A” in C-C’s handwriting on the front. The book that she had signed rested under a pewter framed sketch to the right of the letters. She picked up the frame. The drawing was hers, a self-portrait in pencil.

“I…I had forgotten that I sent this to you.”

C-C moved to her and placed the tips of his fingers gently on her bare, perspiration-dampened back, touching the irresistible area between her shoulder blades.

A shiver ran through her as she turned around to face him.

He wrapped his arms around her, drew her in close, kissed her on the forehead, and said softly, “I am so happy you are here, Anna.”

She was still holding the framed sketch. “Are you sure that you aren’t just still in love with the girl in this sketch? I’ve changed a lot since those days.”

“You are more beautiful.” He nestled his nose in her long hair. “I would like to discover the changes.” His tongue encircled her earlobe and slid into her ear, causing her whole body to react.

Anna closed her eyes and moaned, took in a deep breath, then pushed him away. “Give me some time to…to freshen up.”

“
Bon
.” He dropped his arms to his sides. “
Voilà le cabinet de toilette
.” He nodded towards the bathroom. “You’ll find soap and towels in the armoire. Take your time. I need to make a house call. Be back in about a half hour.” He hesitated as if to say something else. Instead, he gently took the framed sketch from her hands, placed it carefully back on the desk, turned, and walked out of the room.

CHAPTER 54

A
nna heard the front door slam. She rubbed her temples and combed her fingers through her hair.

“Well, let’s see that bathroom,” she said aloud with a sigh. “If it’s anything like the rest of the house…” When she entered the room, her voice trailed off, and her eyes widened at the sight of the large, modern bathroom tiled in gray marble. A massive porcelain tub sat at the foot of steps leading to an etched-glass enclosed shower. She opened the raised panel doors of the solid cherry armoire and found soft midnight blue monogrammed towels and an assortment of hand-cut olive oil, almond, and lavender scented soaps. She undressed and stepped into the shower, wondering fleetingly how C-C had found the means to afford all this luxury.

Twenty minutes later, snuggly wrapped in C-C’s thick, pale green, terry-cloth robe, Anna stood before the oval mirror that seemed to invite a person to step right through. It reflected the room behind her, which optically became the chamber in front of her.

What
, she wondered,
would happen if I stepped into it now?
She drew the collar of the robe to her cheek and inhaled C-C’s lingering scent. A familiar tingling of desire ran through her lower back and buttocks. Both she and C-C had changed, yet she was certain that the attraction between them remained. She went over to the desk and picked up one of the unsealed, pale blue envelopes. She lay down on the bed, stretched, and allowed her head to fall back into the softness of the pillows as she unfolded the pages filled with C-C’s handwriting. “
Mon amour
…” the letter began.

C-C arrived at just that moment. He stood quietly, watching her from the curtained doorway, imagining her body touching the inside of his terry robe. He caught his breath, overwhelmed by an irresistible longing to be enfolded in the robe with her. “I see you have found your letters,” he said.