At the Chateau for Christmas Read online

  “No,” she said in a wooden voice. “Just heartbreakingly honest.”

  “You have an amazing capacity to understand.”

  “I don’t. I’m just trying to put myself in your place. Knowing you, you’ve done everything humanly possible to find her.”

  He nodded. “Both her family and mine dedicated their lives to finding out what happened to her. So has Lt. Thibault, the detective who believes in me and wants to solve this case. Yet having unlimited financial resources still hasn’t produced one iota of evidence that she’s alive or dead.”

  Vanished without a trace... There had to be an answer someplace, but he didn’t want to hear her say it.

  “On top of your pain, you’ve been trying to help your grandfather in his grief.” She swallowed hard. “I was terrible to you in San Francisco and wish I could take it all back. If only there were a way I could help you now.”

  Her sensitivity was yet another quality that made her exceptional. “By flying here you’ve made a new man of him. That in turn helps me.”

  “Then I’m glad I came.” It was impossible to keep the tremor out of her voice.

  “Maurice has planned that we eat first. Normally we dine later, but this is a special occasion. I hope you can pretend to be hungry. If I know him, he’s asked the cook to prepare your grandmother’s favorite meal.”

  Don’t say any more or I’ll break down. “I’ll show him I’m starving.”

  “You’re wonderful.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

  Her head was bowed. “I can’t imagine food tasting good to you when that darling young wife of yours is still unaccounted for. I saw a picture of the two of you in the hall. I could cry buckets for you. How do you stay so strong?”

  This time his hand reached out to cover hers. “One day at a time. Three years have passed. I’ve had to cope.”

  She nodded. “What kind of work was she in?”

  “Chemical research. Our two companies had business dealings from time to time.”

  “So you met through your work?”

  “In a roundabout way, yes.”

  “Was she brilliant?”

  “Very. We both loved science and had that in common.”

  “Life isn’t fair.” Laura had trouble breathing normally. “I’ll tell the man upstairs when I talk to him again.”

  “Laura...” He gripped her fingers a little tighter before relinquishing them. “We’d better go before Maurice starts to get worried.”

  She wiped her eyes. “That’s the last thing we want him to do.”

  Once again they were on their way. After several more bends, the château she’d seen in the photograph appeared. “Oh, Nic—”

  Laura had been to the some of the châteaux on the Loire a few hours away from Paris, where the kings of France had held court. This one peeking through the trees was reminiscent of them, but much smaller in size.

  Enchanting was the only way to describe its soft yellow facade. The combination of the Mansard-styled roofing and the coned towers took her breath. Lights shone from the three floors of evenly spaced windows, with their tiny square panes of glass. The sight was more exquisite than any picture in a fairy tale.

  Nic pulled up in front of the circular drive and got out to help her. Laura was so mesmerized, she didn’t realize how entranced she was until he opened the door. When he touched her now, his warmth seeped right into her bones.

  On a shaky breath she said, “Would you mind bringing that shopping bag in the back? There’s something in it for your grandfather.” For Nic, too, but he’d find out later.

  A half smile broke the corner of his compelling mouth. “Didn’t Omar Khayyam say something about a bottle of wine and thou? Grandfather’s cup will be running over.”

  She smiled back. Besides being heartbroken for him, she was so smitten by this man she was afraid he could see it in her eyes. Together they approached the entrance. Nic opened the massive door. “Gran’père?”

  “Come in, mon fils. I’m in the petit salon.”

  Laura felt like a time traveler who’d just stepped into old-world France. Any second now D’Artagnan might appear. No doubt the hundreds of guests lucky enough to have been invited to the Valfort home over the years had entertained the same thought.

  Nic walked her through the immense foyer to a small salon. A dining room table with a lace cloth and candles glowing from the candelabra was set for three. Maurice, dressed in a formal suit and tie, came around and reached for her hands.

  “Welcome to my home, ma chère.” That was the second time he’d called her my dear.

  “I’m very happy to be here.”

  “She brought you a gift.” Nic reached in the bag and brought out two bottles of wine. When he saw the tags, his gray eyes darted to Laura’s in surprise. “You got one for me, too?”

  Her heart jumped. “Tonight two bottles of wine and thou sounds better than one, don’t you think?”

  Their eyes held. In that breathless moment, she knew he sensed her attraction to him. Embarrassed and feeling horribly guilty about it, she took the Pinot Gris from him and handed it to Maurice. “Merry Christmas.”

  The older man’s eyes glistened. “We’ll open it and drink to Irene, who would have given anything to be here tonight. You can freshen up through those doors at the other end of the room first.”

  “Thank you.”

  Talk about a trip down memory lane... But these were Irene’s memories. Through the kindness of Maurice and Nic, Laura was privileged to peek in on them for a little while.

  A few minutes later she returned to find Nic had brought in the tub of fuchsias and had placed it in the corner. Maurice greeted her with another hug. “You remind me of Irene. She always wanted to buy every flower at the market. Thank you for remembering her this way.”

  They sat at the table while Maurice opened the bottle and poured them each a glass. “I’d like to make a toast.”

  Nic caught her eye, letting her know through a silent message that her gifts had made his grandfather incredibly happy.

  “To the long-awaited reunion. May there be many more of them to come.”

  “Amen,” Nic whispered.

  Laura didn’t know how she was going to get through this meal, knowing Nic’s hopes for his long and happy marriage had been dashed in the most cruel way she could imagine. If that wasn’t enough, he had to go on living with the knowledge that some people still viewed him as the person responsible for his wife’s disappearance. It made this moment bittersweet. They touched glasses before she took a sip.

  Maurice smiled at her before drinking some of his. “I haven’t had a drink of good Alsacien wine in a long time. You have excellent taste, just like your grandmother.” A maid came in to serve them. “I hope you’ll enjoy the coq au vin. Irene would have eaten it every night.”

  Laura’s body broke out in gooseflesh. Too many coincidences. Her favorite meal at the Fleur de Lis in San Francisco was coq au vin. Nic had been watching her reaction and had probably read her thoughts correctly. He had the unusual capacity to see and feel beneath the surface.

  “It’s delicious, Maurice. Everything is perfect.”

  “Yet I see a new sadness in your eyes that wasn’t there at noon. Why is that?”

  While she was trying to find the words, Nic said, “I told her about Dorine.”

  “Ah. That explains it.”

  “I’m afraid it’s my fault the subject came up.” She explained what she’d said to Nic on the phone at the wine shop.

  Maurice nodded. “In that regard you were right. Dorine loved to shop and often lost track of time, to the frustration of my punctual grandson. But that was a long time ago. Tonight let’s put all the sadness away.” What else could they do? “It’s Christmas Eve and you’re here. I’m going to read
you the will right now and hope it will thrill you as much as it did Irene, who worked on your legacy for years.”

  My legacy? Laura frowned. “For years?”

  “Twenty-one of them, in fact. She told me she took you to see the first Superman movie when you were six. When we got married and she came to live with me here, she grieved so terribly for her daughters and you, she decided to do what Jor-El did for the son he sent to Earth to be saved. You’ll understand better what I mean in a minute.”

  Intrigued beyond words, Laura waited while Maurice pulled a paper from his pocket and unfolded it. He cleared his throat. “She made monetary provisions for your mother and aunt. Those provisions have already been sent to Holden headquarters by my attorney. But this provision is solely for you.”

  He looked down at the paper. “I, Irene Holden Valfort, being of sound mind and body, leave the summerhouse on the Valfort estate and everything in it to my darling granddaughter, Laura Tate. It is hers for the rest of her natural life to do with as she pleases.”

  Laura felt dizzy and gripped the edge of the table. “My grandmother left me a house?”

  “The one she and I lived in after we were married. She refused to stay at the château because it was where my life with Fleurette had been, and those memories were precious. So I restored the old summerhouse no one had used for a hundred years to make it livable for us.

  “It was my wedding present to her. When she made out her will a few years ago, she told me she was leaving it to her granddaughter. She asked me that when the time came to go back to live in the château, because it would make my family happy.”

  “But who has lived in the château all this time?”

  “Nic’s parents, Andre and Jeanne, and my ailing brother, Auguste. His wife died a few years back. They’ve graciously allowed me to move in with them. Auguste and I love our card games.”

  “I couldn’t take your home away from you!” Maurice put on a good front, but inside he had to be dying inside after losing her grandmother. Frantic, Laura’s gaze swerved to Nic’s. “I don’t understand.”

  His gray eyes narrowed on her face. “You’ll have to. It’s legally yours.”

  Maurice got up from the table. “Come. Nic will drive us there and you can inspect it for yourself.”

  When she found the strength to stand, her legs—in fact her whole body—felt like jelly.

  Nic drove them on the road leading behind the château and through the woods to a small lake. The summerhouse was half-hidden by a copse of oak trees. It had the same outer structure as the château, but had been built on a tiny scale in comparison. Laura fell instantly in love with it.

  “Why is it called the summerhouse?”

  “The head gardener lived there and used the rear of it for a greenhouse and nursery. The summer heat provided the perfect temperature for some of the exotic plants he cultivated.”

  “Nic told me my grandmother loved gardening.”

  “She became an expert.”

  Maurice helped her out of the car and walked her to the entrance. The front door opened to a small foyer that yielded a modern-looking, comfortable living room. The fire in the hearth sent up flames that flickered on the walls.

  A handmade Christmas stocking with Laura’s name hung from the mantel. In the corner was a decorated Christmas tree with twinkling lights. She breathed in the fresh pine scent. Nic must have come earlier in the morning to help get everything ready and put up the lights.

  Dozens of wrapped presents had been placed beneath the tree. On one of the couches was a colorful throw made in blues and greens. A beam running below the vaulted ceiling held all kinds of intriguing-looking ceramics.

  “Some of those gifts have been waiting years to be opened,” Maurice explained. “Merry Christmas, Laura. This is the Christmas your grandmother has been working on for years. All of it for you.”

  Overcome by too much emotion, she broke down sobbing and buried her face in her hands.

  * * *

  The outpouring of grief, love and remorse coming from Laura was gut-wrenching. Three pairs of eyes were wet as Nic and his grandfather stared at each other. Nic was so moved he couldn’t speak.

  Maurice walked over and pulled Laura into his arms. The way she rested her head on his shoulder—like a young granddaughter might do—was a sight that would live with Nic all his life. It wasn’t fair that they’d been denied this experience for so many years, but this Christmas had brought an end to the cycle of pain for Maurice. Nic was positive there could be a certain amount of healing for Laura now, too.

  She finally lifted her head and kissed his cheek. “There are no words that could thank you for all this, Maurice.”

  “I don’t need words. What I want you to do is sit down and watch a special DVD on the television set. Nic will turn it on for you. When it’s over, there’s a stack of them all labeled to watch. I’m going to take the car back to the château.” He looked at Nic. “Call me when you want me to come for you.”

  Nic handed his grandfather the keys. After Maurice left, Nic walked over to the TV set. “I haven’t seen any of these videos. Maurice had them transferred to DVDs. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. Your grandmother crocheted that afghan for you several years ago. Why don’t you wrap yourself up in it?”

  Wordlessly she pulled it around her and sat down on one end of the couch. She was so beautiful in profile, it was hard not to stare. Before he forgot why they were here, he started the DVD and joined her on the couch. Suddenly they were both seeing Irene after she’d become ill.

  “I’ve left a lot of tapes for you, Laura, but this will be my last one. I feel it in these old bones.

  “I never got to discuss the afterlife with you, but I know there is one and that one day you and I will meet again in person. But I can’t leave this world without telling you one more time the joy it gave me when you were born. To be a grandmother is a priceless experience for those women blessed enough to enjoy the privilege.

  “As soon as you could make sounds, you called me Nana. You were the brightest, smartest, most adorable little girl on the planet. We laughed all the time. You were like a little golden angel from heaven. You loved stories, especially the Three Little Pigs. You were always so worried because they had to go out in the world without their mommy.”

  A sound between a laugh and a cry came from Laura.

  “You had a sensitive heart at an early age and the most incredible imagination. You even made up voluminous stories of your own and drew pictures. I kept everything. You’ll find them under the tree.

  “Please do me a favor and don’t be angry with your mother. She loved her father so much and believed that honoring his memory meant rejecting Maurice. But life’s too short not to forgive, so forgive her for keeping us apart.

  “You can experience a profound love more than once in this life, as Maurice and I found out. Otherwise, what would be the point of existence?”

  Those words jolted Nic to the quick. Possibly what Irene had said was true. But Nic couldn’t imagine it. What if that second love came to an abrupt end, too? How did one bear the pain a second time?

  “I was so lucky to have met two marvelous men. It hurts me that you never did get to know your grandfather Richard, who fell ill when you were so young. I’m hoping you’ll get to know Maurice. To know him is to love him.

  “He’s a loving grandfather with half a dozen grandchildren. But I have to admit I’ve had a special spot in my heart for his Nicholas, who allowed me into his life when the other grandchildren weren’t as open. I adored him and loved it when he came around. They are a lot alike. To this day he’s been going through a great sorrow no one should have to go through in this life. I’m so thankful he and Maurice have each other.

  “They’re both in my prayers continually, as you are.”

  Nic sat ther
e, moved to his very soul.

  “I want you to know I love you and your mom and my Susie more than anything in the world. One day in the next life, we’ll throw our arms around each other and all will be forgiven. For now, let me throw my arms around you through this video and the others I’ve had made over the years. Isn’t technology a great thing?

  “Enjoy this house—use it for a vacation or a place to come when you want to get away from the hotel business. I understand you show great promise in the marketing department and are destined to rise further with time. Good for you, my love. I often teased your grandfather Richard that behind every great man was a greater woman. I have no doubt that’s you.”

  Laura smiled sadly.

  “But whatever your future holds, promise me you’ll let the grief of the past go. I’ve urged Nic to do the same. Be happy, my dearest granddaughter. God bless you till we meet again.”

  The machine shut off.

  “Oh, Nana—”

  All Nic heard were the crackles coming from the fireplace and Laura’s sobs. She was bent over, utterly convulsed. Inwardly Nic was, too. He’d learned to love Irene and had never admired another woman more than he admired her. There was wisdom in that woman that defied description. Even in her outpourings to Laura, she hadn’t forgotten Nic.

  He got up and walked over to the beam to reach for one of the ceramic figures. “Irene bought a kiln and made her own crafts in the back room of the house overlooking the garden. She spent hours painting them. This is one I can remember her working on when I was just a young teenager. I thought it odd she’d chosen to make a pig. Now I understand. She’d obviously hoped to give it to you while you were little enough to appreciate it.”

  Laura took it from him. Through drenched eyes she examined it. Irene had painted Laura’s name on the side. “This is so overwhelming. I can’t take it in, Nic.”

  “Not yet, anyway. It’ll require some time to go through everything.”

  She hugged it to her. “I don’t know what to do. Mother and Aunt Susan are spending Christmas together. I told them and Adam I’d be home Christmas night, but I can’t leave yet. I—I don’t want to.” Her voice faltered.