Promises to Keep (15 page)

Thinking about the past inevitably led to memories of her family’s mouthwatering goulash and paprikash and the laughter that accompanied cooking and baking marathons in the kitchen.

Philippe loved the shortbread she baked recently, insisting on learning how to mix the dough by hand so he could make the cookies himself. “When I was working and studying in England, I tasted very good shortbread,” he said, “but none, I repeat,
aucun
matched your recipe.”

Recently they had been spending more time together in the kitchen. Kat wondered if this was related to the worries Philippe had since the explosion.

The atmosphere in the kitchen was relaxed when the work was shared and appreciated. Philippe declared that he ate enough sweets in December to last him the whole year; Kat thought that was probably the case with many people in France. She marveled at the over-the-top displays in the shops: fantastical chocolate creations and pastries she had not seen before. At the daily market and in the local
supermarché
, displays were packed to bursting with creatively stacked
galette des rois
, the cake of kings, served on January 6.

One evening, they met with others from the cycling club at a large tent at the market where live Christmas trees,
les sapins de Noël
, were for sale, many of them with roots so they could be replanted. The fragrance of pine, spruce, and cedar filled the air and momentarily swept Katherine back to her childhood, filling her with a deep melancholy.

Philippe noticed she was standing apart and moved quickly to her side.

“Is something wrong?”

Shaking her head, she said, “I was remembering happy times as a child. Choosing the Christmas tree was always a major event for my parents and me. Even though they’re both gone, vivid images remain.”

His hand on her cheek, Philippe said, “Noël can bring a mix of memories—some happy, some sad. We will make ours beautiful.”

“Let’s hope nothing interferes with it. I do wish the police would tell us what is happening with the investigation.”

“Be patient, Minou. These things take time, as they explained to us.”

There had been no trouble since the explosion, and most of the time in the days since their return from Lyon, it was easy for Kat to forget there was anything to worry about.

When they rejoined the rest of the group, Katherine said, “I’m glad to see artificial trees haven’t become as popular here as in North America.”

Laughing and joking, the group took their time choosing perfect trees and then carried them home through the narrow streets.

“No vehicles needed here,” Kat said.

She and Philippe had bought bundles of boughs to make a door wreath, branches of holly, and a hand-tied bunch of mistletoe, as well as a tree.

Kat’s spirits rose as she and Philippe began decorating the apartment and the aromatic scent of the boughs wafted into each room. She paused occasionally to watch him work, admiring and appreciating his involvement. James had only ever permitted minimal decorations and had never lifted a finger to help her.

“Next week let’s make a wreath for the door of the villa on the Cap. This will help it look beautiful in spite of its condition,” Katherine suggested.

Philippe’s voice was full of emotion as he drew her to him. “
Bonne idée.
After all the years it has sat neglected . . .”

“Perhaps we will be able to celebrate Christmas there next year,” she said. A ripple of desire moved through her as it always did when he held her like that, and she was surprised to feel his body stiffen. He turned away abruptly to fasten another bough, giving her only an unconvincing nod.

He’s more worried than he lets on
, she realized.

18

A sharp rap on the door late in the afternoon startled Katherine.

The building security required a visitor to buzz from the gate to the courtyard and then again in the lobby before gaining access to the elevator or the broad marble staircase that wound up to the apartments on the upper levels. The French were very good at security.

Kat climbed down from the stepladder where she had been draping boughs over the mirror and had almost reached the door when she heard a key turn in the lock.

For a second, she thought it must be Philippe. But that made no sense. He’d said he was going to be back late today, as he and Gilles were going to visit a supplier. Besides, he wouldn’t have knocked.

The door opened. An odd couple walked into the entrance hall.

First was a disheveled-looking middle-aged man wearing a shiny, rumpled suit that was at least one size too small and an equally ill-fitting toupée. Bushy eyebrows shaded squinty eyes, and his face was overpowered by a large, red-veined nose. From his uneven stubble and a strong smell of garlic emanating from every pore, Kat gathered that personal hygiene was not a priority for him.

The steely gaze of the white-haired older woman slightly behind him belied her fragile stature and gave Katherine an immediate chill. Her perfectly coifed hair and relatively unlined face spoke of one who spent a great deal of money on her appearance. Still, there was something about her pointed features and icy pale eyes that made her look sinister. She was wearing an expensive-looking, severe black suit that fitted her body as perfectly as her pinched expression.

“Oui?”
asked Katherine, more confused than alarmed.

The man spoke in a language she could not understand, but realized later was French with a heavy Russian accent.

“I’m sorry?” Katherine said in English.

“Vee look for Philippe,” hissed the man, a gold front tooth glistening as he switched to broken English not much more than a whisper. The woman glared at Katherine.

“Philippe will not be home until this evening. Who are you? Why do you have a key to this apartment?”

The woman whispered urgently into his ear as the man looked sideways at Katherine, and then he continued, “Vee vish to speak to Philippe. He is not here?”

“Normally he is. But not today. Who are you?”

Katherine stiffened as the unpleasant man approached closer than was socially acceptable, let alone polite, enveloping her in a cloud of foul breath and cheap cologne. He grabbed her arm and pushed her onto the couch.

“I vill look!”

Katherine began to object and get up but stopped when the woman stepped forward, reaching into her handbag and shouting
“Non!”
Her eyes narrowed with hostility.

Her imagination racing about what the woman was holding, Katherine stayed where she was as the man searched the apartment. The woman stared, keeping her hand hidden, a tic in her jaw accelerating.

After a minute, the man returned. “Tell him vee not wait longer for answer. He knows!” he snarled. Then he leaned in and poked her sharply on the shoulder. Kat recoiled in revulsion.

“Don’t touch me! Who are you?” she demanded.

“
Pas important.
You tell him vee return,” the man snapped.

They turned and strode down the corridor.

Kat was so dumbfounded, she couldn’t move for a few minutes. Then she brushed her hair from her eyes and rose to close the heavy door. Adrenaline was rushing through her, making her face flush and her heart pound. She walked back to the couch and slowly sank into it, then burst into tears.
What the hell just happened
, she wondered. That disgusting worm had actually assaulted her. How did they have a key and just walk in? Who would do that?

The more she thought about it, the angrier she grew. She came up with all the things she might have said but didn’t think of at the moment. One thing she soon knew for certain was that she had just met Idelle.

“Non!”
Philippe shouted minutes later when she called him. “Are you all right?”

“
Oui!
I’m still shaking, though, and I can’t stop crying. One minute I’m terrified and the next I’m furious.”

He let loose a string of French curses, then said, “I’ll be right home. Don’t open the door to anyone.”

After they hung up, Kat thought,
I don’t
need
to open the door for them. They can do it themselves.

Philippe arrived in record time and Kat flew to him for a hug. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “Are you okay?”

She held him tightly, even though she was trembling. “I’m okay. I just can’t believe what happened. It’s like something from a movie now, but I was terrified at the time. My imagination was going crazy, and I thought the woman had a gun in her purse.”

“Tell me everything. Don’t leave out any details.”

He nodded as she described the woman. “
Zut!
Idelle, for sure. A gun? She may well have had one.”

The accomplice was unknown to him. “Sounds like one of Dimitri’s henchmen. Apparently he has a few.”

They sat side by side on the sofa, Philippe’s arm around her.

“This may be getting out of hand, Minou,” he said, his voice trembling in anger. “I’m furious that they had any contact with you. It should not have happened.”

“How did they have a key to get in?”

“I was thinking about that on the way home. Idelle had a key when Viv was ill. I never thought about that after, and I never considered changing the locks. Why would I?”

“That makes sense, but you better do it now.”

“I called
le serrurier
on the way here, and he will arrive shortly to do just that. I don’t want to say this but, as I’ve suggested before, perhaps you should go to Toronto for a while until this whole matter is resolved.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Please think about it.”

“I’m fine. I will be fine. Surely these people are not that crazy.”

“You have no idea,” he said, and Kat heard fear in his voice. “I may have to insist.”

Within an hour the lock had been replaced with the most secure model available.

With the new lock in place and the security people stationed at the market since the explosion, Kat felt safe as they drove that evening to NouNou restaurant on the beach en route to Cannes. Philippe had said they would counteract this horrible incident by going somewhere extraordinary and meaningful. “We are not going to let these bastards beat us down.”

The police had insisted on calling the incident a home invasion, and had made it clear to Katherine that it could have ended very differently. She got the impression they wanted her to be scared, and Philippe continued to fret about her safety.

“I’m not sure about anything now,” Philippe said. He was rather dejected in spite of the exceptional dinner they were enjoying. “We will see what Paris has to say. I’m back to thinking it might be better for all of us if I just walk away and not take these criminals on.”

“Please do not do that, I beg you,” Kat pleaded. “That property has been in your family for generations. It’s your birthright. You’ve got to fight for it. For the dream we share for it.”

“I promise I will do everything in my power to make sure the right thing happens, but we don’t know what we are up against just yet. I still think you should leave until it’s over.”

“How can I leave you now? I want to be by your side, and I will be. Now let’s share a
crème brûlée
and talk about something happy. Before we know it, Adorée will be home and we will all be on our way to Joy’s for Christmas. I’m so excited about that.”

Philippe look at her adoringly. “I am a lucky man.”

“Works both ways, Chouchou.”

19

The next day, two police officers came to the apartment to report that their undercover colleagues had noticed Idelle and her companion leaving the apartment building and to apologize for having missed the couple’s arrival. The police had followed the car to a gated villa on Cap Ferrat, and surveillance was continuing.

Closed-circuit television cameras had been placed down in the cove area in the hope that they’d catch some concrete evidence of smuggling. Plans were in place for a sting operation, when the time was right, and the investigators would tell Katherine and Philippe when it was over.

“It would not be wise for you to know any details of this operation, particularly the date and time. Try to carry on as usual.”

Kat and Philippe were determined to do just that. And, so, Kat decided that she would keep her promise to meet up with her expat women’s group for lunch in Nice that Wednesday. Then Véronique e-mailed her an invitation for her and Philippe to dine with her and her husband, David, that same evening at their apartment in Nice. “Do you have skates?” she asked. “There’s
une patinoire
in Massena for the holidays.”

“I do, but in Toronto, and Philippe doesn’t.” Katherine wrote back, accepting the invitation.

Véronique told her that they could rent skates at the rink and they would all teach Philippe. “It will be great fun!”

“It will be good to have dinner with Véronique and meet her husband,” Philippe said when he heard the plan. “I’m not so sure about the skating lesson. It could be painful.”

“Yes, it could. You’re a good sport for agreeing to try it.”

Philippe muttered something about being crazy rather than a good sport as they fell asleep.

When she kissed Philippe good-bye that morning, they arranged to meet at a bar near Place Massena later in the afternoon, before dinner. He hadn’t decided whether he would drive in or take the train, as Kat was doing. The closer she got to the Nice station, the more Kat looked forward to strolling with her camera through this town, which she loved almost as much as Antibes.

She had left early enough to amble down to the sea before meeting the group, and as she walked, she reveled in the play of light and color in the streets around her, which never failed to entrance her. Sunlight, angling down into the narrow streets, washed over elegant multihued facades, which combined the colors of Italy with the grace of France. Pink, ecru, teal, olive, terra-cotta, peach, turquoise, amber: all caught her eye, and from time to time, she stopped to take a photo of a fading pastel shutter or a bold shade of wall. The luminosity of the sea and sky created shades of blue, turquoise, and azure unique to this jewel on the coast, Kat noticed.
Their magic has attracted artists for centuries, and it’s so easy to see why.

After meeting up with the women, they all walked over to Place Massena. When she caught sight of the Christmas market there, Kat’s jaw dropped.

From a distance she had spotted the large Ferris wheel, but the big surprise was the extent of the market. There was row upon row of wooden huts with peaked roofs, all decorated individually and offering an enormous selection of wares and food.

The women had no problem spending the entire morning choosing gifts and sampling crepes, gingerbread, and other treats, but the photo ops kept Katherine busier than the shopping, although she did pick up a few items to take along to Joy’s at Christmas.

When they stopped for a break in a small café, their conversation soon turned to Kat’s decision to remain in France. She appreciated their interest and the openness with which they talked about the obstacles they had discovered as they attempted to assimilate and build their lives here. Absorbing their words, Katherine was reminded there would be challenges ahead.

When it was time for lunch, there was consensus that they had nibbled on so many treats, they could not eat another morsel. Before wishing each other
Joyeux Noël
, they planned their next meet-up in January, and Kat eagerly noted the date in her calendar.

Strolling up to the Musée Chagall, Kat considered how fortunate she was to be part of such a diverse and welcoming group of women. She had never contemplated joining such a group when she was caught in the narrow valley of her life with James, and now she was aware of what she had missed for so many years.

The afternoon passed quickly at the gallery, even though she lingered at each piece of art. The impact of the large-scale paintings in the main salon was enhanced by the beauty of the building’s simple design. 

She was particularly struck by Chagall’s homage to love, painted in bursts of passionate reds and pinks in his
Song of Songs
pieces. Looking at them was a spiritual experience for her now that her heart had been awakened. She had not visited the gallery since she had fallen in love with Philippe.

She wiped away tears more than once as she was drawn into Chagall’s celebration of love. The text that accompanied the art, along with the stirring Bach selections on the audio guide, enhanced the magic of the small hexagonal room where the paintings were hung. The evocative images and rich colors were a passionate marriage of the sacred and the sensual. His playful imagery praised the beauty of love and expressed his
joie de vivre
. Katherine sat there for some time, overwhelmed.

As she made her way back down through the lower part of the Cimiez district, heading toward Place Massena, she felt like she was floating on a cloud—until she became aware that someone was following her.

There had been a constant stream of pedestrians at first, so she had not noticed anything. Now, as she approached the busier streets under an overpass, she definitely had a sense of being shadowed. She had been looking around carefully before she crossed busy streets, and twice she caught a glimpse of someone ducking into a doorway or stopping to examine something on the ground. As much as she wanted to blame her imagination, she suddenly felt frightened.

On Avenue Jean Médecin, the main shopping street, a longer sideways glance when she paused to look in a store window told her she was being followed by Idelle’s loathsome companion.

Her pulse quickened. Something that felt like panic played with her thoughts for a moment as she considered what to do. Then she pulled out her phone, attempting to appear nonchalant.

Philippe was alarmed when she told him. “I will come to meet you right now,” he said. “Was he around all morning?”

“He wasn’t in the
musée
, because it was very quiet there today. I would have noticed him. How did he find me? Why is he doing this? What should I do?”

“Keep walking. I am already on my way. Try not to worry. I’ll call Thibideau to alert him about this.”

“Well, if the police are doing their job, he should already know.”

The street was busy now with pedestrians, and Kat began to feel calmer each time she looked around. She decided to play a game with her stalker by speeding up, then slowing down and stopping to look at window displays. She was determined to make his task as annoying as possible.

Her imagination raced as she considered turning into the enormous Nice Étoile shopping center and seeing if she could ditch him. Then she wondered if the undercover team watching her was watching him now too.

Philippe called back after a few minutes.

“They are on it, Kat. They’re watching him—and you. Thibideau said not to worry but he wants me to just wait at the bar, as we first planned. He suspects they are following you to find me, so I’m turning around now. You’ll be here soon.
Reste calme.
”

Kat described the game she was playing as she walked, and laughed a little nervously. Philippe failed to see the humor, and his voice echoed his concern. “Minou, just be careful. It’s not a game.”

“Well, now that I know he’s being watched, it almost feels like one. I’m not going to make it easy for him.”

Philippe asked her about the rest of her day and, happily engaged in conversation with him, Kat barely noticed when she turned onto one side street and then another. Still, she let out a sigh of relief as she shut her phone and stepped into Les Brasseries Georges, where Philippe was waiting.

He kissed Kat’s cheeks gently before her hands went to his face, and her lips delivered a passionate kiss that took him by surprise.

“That kind of kiss does not happen in public very often,” he laughed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She pulled him close and whispered that the kiss was thanks to Marc Chagall’s art. Then she added that Idelle’s repugnant companion had still been behind her as she turned down the street to the bar. “Hold me close and look over my shoulder. Can you spot him?”

He looked through the front window and saw the man she had described being frisked by police. “
Mon Dieu!
He does look vile. They have caught him already and have him up against a car. It must be an unmarked police car.”

Philippe held on to her tightly, reporting what he was seeing, until his cell phone rang. As he answered it, he pulled out a chair for Kat at the bar. She sat down and took a long swig of his
pastis
.

“That was Thibideau,” he said when he joined her. “We are to stay in Nice tonight and not go back to Antibes.”

Kat was feeling relieved to be with Philippe, but she still thought that this was a wise precaution. A minute later, after a nod from Philippe, a waiter led them to a quiet corner of the bar, where they settled on a soft leather banquette and tried to collect themselves. Philippe ordered her a
pastis
and then called the Hôtel Beau Rivage, a quick walk from there on La Prom, to make a reservation.

“This is turning into quite a date night,” he said. “I’ll call Gilles right now to let him know he’ll be opening the shop tomorrow.”

Now she was safe, the scare she’d had caught up with her and her hand shook as she picked up her glass. She said, “You know, part of me wanted to confront that sleazy guy and give him a swift kick! I really felt I could do it.”

Philippe was angry that Kat had been targeted once again. He fumed for several minutes before she convinced him she was fine and thankful the police were doing their job. “Maybe this means the situation will be all over with soon,” she said.

“Every time I think about this, I have to shake my head. I still find it hard to believe that we are involved with drug dealers. There are moments when it’s frightening and others when it seems like we are dealing with petty thieves. It’s quite a roller coaster.”

After some conjecture as to what the police were doing, Kat changed the topic completely. Placing her fingers lightly on Philippe’s cheek, she described her emotional response at the museum.

“It was magical, truly magical, thanks to the love you have brought into my life.”

“The next time we will go together—and not have it spoiled like today.”

At seven p.m., they rang the bell to Véronique and David’s
pied-à-terre
in the Old Town and then climbed the steep stairs to the second floor. They still felt somewhat shaken about everything, but were looking forward to the evening.

“It will be just the diversion we need,” Kat said.

“I’m not certain I’m looking forward to the skating,” Philippe said, shooting her an accusatory look. “Whose bright idea was that?”

Kat said nothing. She was too busy looking around the ancient stairwell. “What character! It’s just like their place in Entrevaux—mysterious and intriguing.”

Philippe laughed“To me it’s just another old building in need of repair, but to you it’s magical. I like that.”

Véronique greeted them, with her husband close behind. David extended his hand to Philippe and
bised
Katherine.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you both,” he said, his friendly voice booming as he took their coats. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

They were in a large drawing room with fifteen-foot ceilings, elaborate crown moldings and three sets of French doors in one wall that lead out to a terrace. The room functioned as a livingdining area, and there was an elegantly screened alcove to one side, which Véronique told them was the sleeping area. Kat could see no sign of a kitchen.