said.
“Then at other times it all comes together and it’s smooth and easy— une ballade dans la bouche —a song in your mouth.”
Kat’s face lit up. “I love speaking this language, even when I know I’m making mistakes.”
“And that’s why you will do just fine,” Ida said. “The love of the language is half the battle.”
9
The market was closed on Mondays through the winter, but Philippe had a busy day planned. The investigators from Nice had e-mailed to say they would be at the fire site to meet with him early in the morning. He expected to hear that they had finished examining the storage unit, and so he had arranged for him and Gilles, with other friends helping, to install new shelving and refrigeration in the unit that afternoon. Then they could move their stock back into it.
Kat planned a full day on the Cap to work in the garden there. Massive flowerbeds, once overgrown and untamed, were beginning to show the results of the care and hard labor she and Philippe had put into trimming everything back and rooting out the weeds. They were beginning to slowly replace missing shrubs and vines, using old photos and paintings of the property that had been saved, some carefully and some accidentally.
It still astonished her that this stunning property—with its panoramic views across the sea to the old town of Antibes and over the Baie des Anges to Nice and the hills beyond—had been abandoned for decades. Left to fall into ruin, hidden behind thick hedges and now-crumbling walls, it was the victim of a long-simmering family feud. Philippe told her that after his grandfather’s death, two branches of his family had fought over the archaic inheritance laws and legal details that had not been properly addressed. By the time the issues were settled and Philippe was named the legal heir, his wife, Geneviève, had become terminally ill.
The villa, close to derelict when Philippe first took Katherine to see it, was now the focus of their dream of building a future here. That vision was evolving into a detailed restoration plan almost complete on paper and ready to commence as soon as possible. In the meantime, they continued to attack the overgrown gardens.
Philippe’s days began early, so late nights for him were rare. But still, they had stayed awake on several nights exchanging and refining their ideas on how to turn the villa into the small inn they would open one day. It was a fantasy they were determined to make happen.
In some ways, the evolution of this land and the storied villa reflected the growth of the bond between the two lovers. Their pledge to the project and to each other grew stronger as the days passed. Their friendship had been a few months. Their courtship, a few weeks. Their love felt like it would last forever.
If only Philippe would tell her his secrets. Despite Molly and Andrea’s advice, Kat was still feeling hurt that Philippe was keeping something important from her.
On her way to the Cap property that morning, Kat paused to shoot a close-up photo of a cluster of unusual mushrooms growing by the roadside. A rich, caramel color with delicate rust-colored gills and silky beige stems, the mushrooms were the largest she had ever seen.
She had once jokingly told Philippe she thought she could put together a photo book only about mushrooms in France. The vendor’s stall at the market in Nice, which constantly displayed exotic-looking varieties, was a favorite spot for her to shoot. It was there that she witnessed customers ask for a mushroom to be cut open for them to inspect before buying. She had never seen that happen before.
Philippe told her how he and other friends would often go into the countryside during the short mushroom season.
“The peak time is from mid-August to mid-September,” he said. “We pick only on public property, and most of us guard our secret places. C’est vrai! We don’t want anyone to know.”
He explained how they would set up a grill to
“Then at other times it all comes together and it’s smooth and easy— une ballade dans la bouche —a song in your mouth.”
Kat’s face lit up. “I love speaking this language, even when I know I’m making mistakes.”
“And that’s why you will do just fine,” Ida said. “The love of the language is half the battle.”
9
The market was closed on Mondays through the winter, but Philippe had a busy day planned. The investigators from Nice had e-mailed to say they would be at the fire site to meet with him early in the morning. He expected to hear that they had finished examining the storage unit, and so he had arranged for him and Gilles, with other friends helping, to install new shelving and refrigeration in the unit that afternoon. Then they could move their stock back into it.
Kat planned a full day on the Cap to work in the garden there. Massive flowerbeds, once overgrown and untamed, were beginning to show the results of the care and hard labor she and Philippe had put into trimming everything back and rooting out the weeds. They were beginning to slowly replace missing shrubs and vines, using old photos and paintings of the property that had been saved, some carefully and some accidentally.
It still astonished her that this stunning property—with its panoramic views across the sea to the old town of Antibes and over the Baie des Anges to Nice and the hills beyond—had been abandoned for decades. Left to fall into ruin, hidden behind thick hedges and now-crumbling walls, it was the victim of a long-simmering family feud. Philippe told her that after his grandfather’s death, two branches of his family had fought over the archaic inheritance laws and legal details that had not been properly addressed. By the time the issues were settled and Philippe was named the legal heir, his wife, Geneviève, had become terminally ill.
The villa, close to derelict when Philippe first took Katherine to see it, was now the focus of their dream of building a future here. That vision was evolving into a detailed restoration plan almost complete on paper and ready to commence as soon as possible. In the meantime, they continued to attack the overgrown gardens.
Philippe’s days began early, so late nights for him were rare. But still, they had stayed awake on several nights exchanging and refining their ideas on how to turn the villa into the small inn they would open one day. It was a fantasy they were determined to make happen.
In some ways, the evolution of this land and the storied villa reflected the growth of the bond between the two lovers. Their pledge to the project and to each other grew stronger as the days passed. Their friendship had been a few months. Their courtship, a few weeks. Their love felt like it would last forever.
If only Philippe would tell her his secrets. Despite Molly and Andrea’s advice, Kat was still feeling hurt that Philippe was keeping something important from her.
On her way to the Cap property that morning, Kat paused to shoot a close-up photo of a cluster of unusual mushrooms growing by the roadside. A rich, caramel color with delicate rust-colored gills and silky beige stems, the mushrooms were the largest she had ever seen.
She had once jokingly told Philippe she thought she could put together a photo book only about mushrooms in France. The vendor’s stall at the market in Nice, which constantly displayed exotic-looking varieties, was a favorite spot for her to shoot. It was there that she witnessed customers ask for a mushroom to be cut open for them to inspect before buying. She had never seen that happen before.
Philippe told her how he and other friends would often go into the countryside during the short mushroom season.
“The peak time is from mid-August to mid-September,” he said. “We pick only on public property, and most of us guard our secret places. C’est vrai! We don’t want anyone to know.”
He explained how they would set up a grill to
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