Promises to Keep (19 page)

22

Philippe’s daughter, Adorée, flew to Nice from London two days before Christmas. The plan was for her to spend a day at home in Antibes, and then they would all drive up to Joy’s for the Christmas Eve feast. It was the first time she had been home since Kat and Philippe had begun living together.

“I’m nervous,” Kat said, as they parked on the arrivals level of the airport. “In fact, I’m very nervous.”

Philippe patted her hand and reassured her. “Adorée has told us both how happy she is that we are together. You are worrying for nothing.”

His words proved true. Adorée was completely relaxed to be around Kat and complimented her several times on the changes to the apartment. “You are making it warm and welcoming again. Finally, we have comfy chairs where we can read. Papa, remember how I always went to my room to lie on my bed when I was reading?”

Philippe tousled her hair. “I’m glad you are happy to be home with us.”

“It feels good. I love that you have the
crèche
set up. You didn’t do that for many years.”

Philippe lowered his eyes.

Adorée’s grateful look spoke volumes to Kat. “He had, what he calls, his dark years. I hope he talks to you about them, because he never has with me. Even though I am an adult now, the subject is verboten.”

She hugged Kat. “I’m getting used to hugging all the North Americans I work with. I’m so pleased you’re making my father happy again.”

Philippe’s face relaxed as he watched them, but he quickly changed the subject.” Look at the new
santons
. Change them around as you wish. That used to be your favorite thing to do.”

Adorée promptly did just that, exclaiming over her old favorites as well as over the new ones.

That evening they visited several different friends for a glass of champagne. All of their friends had insisted they bring Adorée along, and Philippe could not stop beaming at having the two women he loved in his life together.

The next day, the women did last-minute shopping in the morning. Adorée dashed off with a long list in her hand; Kat had just two stops to make.

She and Philippe had promised they would only exchange small gifts that did not include expensive jewelry. Definitely no rings. They both agreed that Christmas was not the time to decide the future course of their relationship.

As noon approached, they met at the market. While Philippe finished up, Adorée described to Kat the eating that would ensue once they arrived at Joy’s.

“Prepare yourself for feasting such as you have never done before,” she cautioned. “We used to have two meals, beginning Christmas Eve: one before we all went to la Messe de Minuit and one afterward. Truly a
grande fête
! But a few years ago everyone agreed it was just too much food. So we have Le Réveillon on Christmas Day now.”

Kat had asked Joy how she could contribute to the meals when she had received the invitation, and Joy had responded with her usual thoughtfulness. “It’s a main event, my dear. We want you to relax and enjoy it, and there will be plenty of opportunities for you to help,
bien sûr
. Philippe is responsible for the oysters, fish, and cheese. I’m sure he will want your help with that.”

After Philippe closed up his stall and loaded the food he was contributing into the car, they went back to the apartment and finished packing. Philippe was exhausted after serving the longest Christmas Eve lineups of customers ever. Before they drove off, he handed over the driving duty to Adorée and promptly fell asleep in the back seat as they set off for Sainte-Mathilde.

En route, Adorée regaled Kat with tales of Christmas from her childhood, many of them spent at Joy’s, as they had alternated the celebrations there with quieter ones at home.

“Sometimes we even went to Paris for Christmas and stayed with Oncle François
et
Tante Sophie. Sometime you and Papa should spend Christmas in Paris. It’s magic. The city feels like a small town with the lights and skating rinks and Christmas markets.
C’est magnifique
.
”

By the time they reached the smaller roads leading to Sainte-Mathilde, a light snow was falling.

“Oh my! It’s almost as if this was ordered,” Kat said. “I love having snow on Christmas Eve.”

“It was a childhood wish of mine too, from all the American films I watched about Christmas,” Adorée said. “One that wasn’t often granted.”

“It may date me, but
Miracle on 34th Street
is one of the earliest movies I ever watched. I loved it,” Kat said.

Adorée grinned and said that the French version was also a favorite of hers.

The two women liked each other, and a bond was starting to develop between them. Kat appreciated how Adorée appeared to have accepted her as part of her and her father’s lives.

The snow was falling heavily now. Colossal, fluffy flakes danced and drifted in the air. The countryside was being transformed into a winter portrait of whites and silvery grays. Long white rows of trimmed lavender mounds stretched across the fields, and vineyards appeared to be draped in sheets, like the furniture in a summer house waiting to be opened and come alive for the season. It was growing dark now, and the dimming light lent its mystery to the winter scene.

Kat reached back to wake Philippe as they turned down the narrow road to the
manoir
, and a few minutes later, she called Joy to say they were turning up the lane. When they arrived, Henri was watching for them. He swung open the heavy front door just in time for the three arrivals to burst into the
manoir
, their arms full of packages.

Most of the extended family had already arrived and were gathered in the grand salon across the bough and bow-laden foyer, singing loudly as Sylvie played a carol on the piano. François was snoozing in a chair by the fire, oblivious to all the activity.

Picasso was the first to reach them, bouncing with excitement and indecision about whom to greet first.

“Ah, Pico! What a beautiful red bow you’re sporting.” Kat bent down to his level, setting her box of parcels on the floor so she could wrap her arms around him. Her reward was a sloppy Pico kiss on the cheek, making her laugh out loud.

Henri greeted them warmly and helped with the parcels.

As soon as Philippe set down the boxes of seafood and cheese, Antoine and some helpers instantly appeared to carry them off to the kitchen.

One of the young men helped Philippe fetch their suitcases from the car, and soon everything was unloaded and put into the right rooms.

Kat could hear pots and pans being clattered in the kitchen, and appetizing aromas wafted down the hall. “I can smell magic happening down there,” she exclaimed.

Joy rushed up to greet them, untying a starched white apron and revealing an elegant pairing of a red velvet skirt and a red-and-white silk blouse. She graciously accepted their compliments about her appearance and the scrumptious smell of the meal to come.

“
D’accord! Magique, bien sûr!
But now that you’re here, we will all pause for some champagne.”

Joy flashed Kat a quick look, telegraphing her delight that their problem with Idelle was over. “We have much to celebrate this day!”

With Adorée and Kat on either arm, she walked them around to greet everyone. As well as immediate family, there were cousins and second cousins whom Katherine had not met before. Adorée soon went off with the others her age, while Katherine tried to memorize all the new names.

“Joy, your
crèche
is
fantastique
,” Kat declared. Set up on a long table against one wall, the display was huge and enthralling. “Of all the
crèches
I have seen so far, yours is by far the largest and most beautiful. There’s a lot of love and family history in it. That’s easy to see.”

A few people stopped by to pick up their favorite
santon
and explain its story to her, then Joy put her arm around Katherine and led her to the great hall, which was decorated with boughs and evergreen ropes and a stunning twelve-foot
sapin de Noël
. The long banquet table in the center of the room was laid for
le grand souper
.

“Three white tablecloths, three candles, and the three saucers of
le blé de Sainte-Barbe
all represent the Holy Trinity,” Joy explained. “The seven dishes we always serve represent the seven sorrows of the Virgin Mary. Even though we aren’t a religious family, at the holidays we still follow the traditions of the church. Did you know we all go to the village church for midnight mass?”

Katherine nodded and said, “I’m honored to be included in all these traditions.”

“You’re family to us,
ma chère
.”

Back in the salon, Kat searched out François. He was still sitting by the fire, but his snooze was over for now.

“I’m in my usual spot, keeping warm,” he said, as she sat down next to him to chat. Katherine was pleased to see he appeared healthy and possibly even a few pounds heavier.

Sylvie walked around the room with a tray of champagne flutes, followed by her daughter and niece with platters of
foie gras
on toasts.

The children—the girls dressed in flounces of velvet or satin and the boys in dress shirts and trousers—were engrossed in jigsaw puzzles, card games, and quiet teasing. There was a lot of giggling.

“Electronics have been banished for the night,” Christian’s wife, Marie, said.

“No one seems to mind,” Kat said.

After some urging, Joy sat down at the piano, and the house echoed with song as she played carol after carol as it was requested. Singers wandered in and out of the rooms, sometimes stopping to chat. Kat commented to Adorée how well the youngsters were behaving.

“
Oui!
Children in France have that reputation,” Adorée said with a sly grin.

At one point François whispered to Kat and Philippe that he was slipping away for another short nap. “It will be a long evening, and I will need my energy for the meal,” he said with a wink.

Offering his arm, Philippe escorted his uncle to his room, promising to come and get him when it was dinnertime.

“You need me for
le cacho fio
,” François reminded the room as they left.

Katherine was surprised when a group of Joy and Henri’s friends dropped by for a glass of champagne and to exchange greetings. They didn’t stay long, and Henri explained that in recent years their local friends always rented a small bus to take them on the rounds so no one had to drive and the celebrants were back where they were supposed to be for
le grand souper
.

At eight o’clock, everyone trooped into the great room, and Philippe went up to fetch François. With his silver hair smoothed back and a green cravat tied jauntily around his neck, the old man looked rested and as handsome as Katherine had ever seen him. He was greeted by his rambunctious six-year-old twin great-nephews, who led him to a log lying on the hearth. Together they picked it up and carried it around the table three times. Everyone followed behind.

“
C’est le cacho fio
, probably from an olive tree,” Henri explained to Kat. “They are the youngest and oldest here, and they will sprinkle the log with
vin cuit
—sweet mulled wine—salt, and bread crumbs and light it together while François says the ancient blessing in Provençal.”

Joy sidled in beside Kat and murmured a translation as François, and the boys put the log on the fire in the great hall and François blessed it:

“Christmas log,

Give us the fire.

Let us rejoice.

God gives us the joy.

Christmas comes, all is well.

God give us the favor to see the coming year.

And if we are not more,

Let us not be less.”

The room filled with cries of
santé
, and everyone moved to the table to look for their name card.

As they ate, her neighbors at the table took it upon themselves to tell Katherine the traditions that were being observed. Adorée told her that the table would stay laid for three days so the angels could have a feast too.

“And the fire burns for three days too,” someone else said. “We all make certain of that.”

Kat said, “It’s hard to believe this was once a simple meal served without any fuss.”

“That’s right,” Joy’s son-in-law, Christian, said. “Much has changed through the years, but one thing that hasn’t is that there’s no meat in any of the seven courses.”

Some dishes and breads had been set up on a buffet table, including two ornate china tureens, one for an aromatic soup of garlic and herbs and the other for a lightly spiced roasted chestnut soup. Other dishes included
escargots
, chard stalks in a white sauce, spinach
au gratin
,
celeri à l’anchois
, a white bean purée accented with
herbes de Provence
, and ratatouille. A salted cod dish in a rich red-wine sauce with tomato, olives, and capers was the highlight of the meal and served with small cross-shaped pasta.

“This is one of Maman’s specialties,
la morue en raito
, and we eat it at this meal every year,” Sylvie said as she held the platter for Katherine.

“I remember eating cod in
le grand aioli
for the first time with your family last June on the terrace here. It was delicious.”

“And what a lot has happened in your life since then,” Joy commented from farther along the table. “That was the day everyone here first met you, and now you are a member of the family.”

Seven local wines dotted the tables, and now everyone raised a glass to toast Kat and Philippe. Then Philippe took Kat’s hand, and they both rose and thanked everyone for their kind words. Katherine got quite emotional when she talked about how grateful she was for how warmly they had taken her into their family.

Someone said, “
Bien
, let’s eat,” and the focus returned to what was on their plates.

With eighteen people around the table and a fire blazing in the hearth, the ambiance was festive and the conversation merry. From time to time, someone would stand and recite a Provençal poem or begin a carol, and everyone who knew the words joined in. Katherine was reminded of an oil painting by one of the old masters of just this type of scene. Her heart felt about to burst with gratitude to be included. Her stomach was also becoming very full, but she knew that was the last thing she should say in France.