Invitation to Provence(45)
Little Blue stared silently down at her shoes again, and Haigh sighed. He thought this was hard going and he poured champagne for Rafaella and Scott and also for himself. He went to stand next to Rafaella, regarding the guests with his regal glare.
“Welcome, my new family,” Rafaella said, raising her glass to them. “I want to thank you for traveling all this way to make an old woman happy. I will do my best to make your stay at the Chateau des Roses Sauvages a memorable one.”
35
THERE WAS A SUDDEN commotion out in the hall. Dogs barked, the front door banged, and the wind roared through the house, snuffing out all the candles again. “Mimi, Louis,” Rafaella called warningly, but they were already racing to the door. Seconds later they heard a growl and also a shrill yapping and snarling.
“It’s those bloody Pomeranians,” Haigh said resignedly going out into the hall.
Louis and Mimi were lying on their backs, felled by a rage of tiny blond Pomeranians, who snapped triumphantly at them. A fourth dog stood by the door watching them with the bored expression of a street mutt who knew what a real fight was about.
“Oh, get off them, darlings.” Juliette’s voice came clearly from the darkened portico. “Don’t worry, Haigh.” she added, “It’s all show, they won’t kill them.”
“It would make them very unpopular around here if they did,” Haigh said. “Welcome, Madame. You have arrived in your usual style, I see.” And Juliette’s jolly laugh boomed across the hall as she swept inside, stopping to kiss Haigh on each cheek, adding a third kiss, a true sign of affection.
“And I’m glad to see you have not changed either, Haigh. You’re still the same crotchety old despot,” she said as he went out to deal with what he knew would be a mountain of luggage. “Now, where’s my Rafaella. Ohhhhh … there you are, chérie.”
She paused at the door, assessing her friend in the firelight. “You have not changed one iota,” Juliette said loyally.
“And nor have you, my old friend,” Rafaella said, wrapping her arms as far around Juliette as they would go. “Except in circumference,” she added and Juliette grinned. “Too much good living and not enough good loving,” she whispered and they laughed, remembering the secrets they had shared.
“Could that ugly hound possibly be yours, Juliette?” Rafaella said, noticing the mutt still sitting calmly in the corner.
“Mine? Oh no, that’s Jake’s dog, Criminal.”
Standing in the background, Franny looked up, startled. Then she decided she must have misheard the name. She smiled looking at Juliette, who lit up the silent house with her flame red hair and her emerald caftan and her yapping Pomeranians.
“And now, my dear,” Juliette said in a whisper that the others heard clearly because even Juliette’s whispers were loud, “where are the granddaughter and the niece?”
Franny stepped from the shadows. “I’m Franny, the niece.”
“And I am Juliette, the old friend.” Juliette sized her up in one long glance. “Do you have any idea what a little blue shadow would do for those wonderful eyes of yours?” she said. “I have just the shade. Remind me to lend it to you tomorrow.” She touched Franny’s hair lingeringly. “And such wonderful hair, completely natural of course, whereas mine is in the high-maintenance category now. I suppose I should be like Rafaella and let it all go silver, but I’m far too young at heart to allow that. Besides, it wouldn’t suit me the way it does her. Rafaella was always elegant, you know. Dark hair or silver, it doesn’t matter, she’s still a beauty. As you could be too, chérie,” she added thoughtfully, and Franny blushed and quickly introduced Clare.
Juliette assessed Clare’s dark chic. Now here was a woman who had seen life, she thought, a woman who knew who she was, but perhaps not what she was looking for. An interesting woman, in fact.
And then it was Shao Lan’s turn. “And here is my granddaughter, Little Blue,” Rafaella said, taking her by the hand and beaming.
Juliette bent to inspect her. “She’s a little thing, but there’s no mistaking she’s a Marten,” she said, “and another beauty.” She sighed. “Do you know how lucky you are, Rafaella? My own grandchildren inherited their grandfather’s looks instead of mine. They’re Labourdes down to their little buckteeth that are going to cost me a fortune in orthodontist bills. They all have large heads and lanky limbs—I swear they look just like a bunch of little squid flopping around in the sea in Hawaii. While you, Little Blue,” she kissed the child’s cold cheek, “you promise one day to be a dazzler, despite those awful shoes that must be killing your poor little feet. Here, sweetheart, let Tante Juliette take them off.” And she got on her knees and unbuckled them.
“Thank you,” Shao Lan said politely.
Franny and Clare jumped. “She spoke!” Clare said just as Haigh came in, bent double under the weight of two enormous Vuitton suitcases.
“Does she not normally speak, then?” Juliette asked, surprised.
“I believe the only other thing the child has said so far was to tell me to f—off, or words to that effect.” Haigh dropped the bags with a thud.
“Whoever told you that was probably right,” Jake said, striding into the hall behind Haigh and dropping two more bags on the floor.