Promises to Keep (18 page)

“We only got as far as the early years of the German occupation in Normandy this week. Her stories are mesmerizing. I know there must be a lot more to come because she mentioned briefly before that she was in the Resistance.”

“Hmm. Grand-père was a
maquisard
. I wonder if she knew him.”

“Well, I can’t wait for the next chapter, so don’t eat all those cookies. Perhaps I will hear more tomorrow.”

As it happened, Kat had to rush through her visit to Simone the following day.

Philippe’s friend André, who owned the photography gallery, had called that morning and invited her to come by with her portfolio.

When she told Simone, their talk turned to the subject of art and Simone was the one asking questions. They exchanged ideas and opinions about their creative approaches and philosophy while Kat finished setting up the
crèche
, and Simone’s life story did not progress.

“
Vraiment
, Katherine, I did not expect to enjoy this again, so I am most pleased to look at all the pieces and remember.”

“What will you do for Christmas?”

“I will be here alone, as I have been for almost ten years.”

“But—” Katherine began.

“
Attends, chérie.
Listen to me and try to understand. Until ten years ago, my very dear friend Margaux lived here too. Now I am fine in my solitude. I am at peace. I prefer to be alone with my music and my paints—and Victor Hugo, of course—rather than be surrounded by people who are celebrating and are feeling sorry for me.
C’est normal.
”

Kat felt a pang of sadness for her and sensed that Simone knew it.

As if to banish that sentiment, Simone continued, her voice strong and upbeat. “When I moved here after the accident. I had the entire house painted white, as you see it. For me, it represented a tabula rasa, a clear slate, and that is how I begin every day.”

Katherine realized that she needed to temper her desire to help with respect for Simone’s wishes. She would let Simone set the pace for their friendship. The more time they spent together, the more Katherine became aware of a faintly mysterious edge to her. The words not being said were becoming louder.

Later, as Kat made her way through the narrow streets to André’s studio, excitement about meeting him and what they would talk about bubbled through her and put an extra bounce in her step. She oscillated between feeling anxious at the thought of revealing her relationship with her camera and the images she captured, and feeling excited to talk openly about what photography meant to her, as she had with Véronique and the others in Entrevaux.

Until now, she had always considered her photography to be a hobby—a way of expressing her ideas without pointed criticism from James. She hadn’t even shown him half of her work through the years they were together.

The thought of embracing her “natural artistry,” as André had said to Philippe, and making photography her focus—she smiled to herself at the pun—pleased her immensely.

21

It was over almost as quickly as it had begun.

Monsieur Slimy, as he would forever be known to Kat, had been arrested and charged with drug trafficking, as had another twelve people. The police were confident they had all the top players of Dimitri’s gang in the South of France in custody after coordinated raids over the previous thirty-six hours. Inspecteur Thibideau, who arrived at Kat and Philippe’s apartment at 6:00 a.m. to deliver the news in person, assured them that the police’s sting operation was over. Done.
Fini.

“
Naturellement
—of course, I cannot divulge the details,” he said, and then went on to explain that the cove was not the only location targeted that night. His sources had reported that this gang had already moved most of their operation to the Eastern European and Asian markets. They had done their damage in France and were gone. Idelle had not been captured, and the police had reason to believe she had fled ahead of the raids to rejoin Dimitri.

“What was left here was small potatoes for them. We’ll probably never catch Dimitri,” he said, his mouth twisted in a caustic smile. “Our best guess is that he and Idelle are mixing with the high rollers on the Russian Riviera, who always protect their own. That brash attitude of hiding in plain sight is frustrating, but
c’est la vie
. We’ve done what we could here. I don’t think you will hear anything from either one of them again. My understanding is that their intent was to scare you off using your property at the Cap, and that was all. The secluded cove at the foot of your property and the one next to you served them well. It seems it was also, in some warped way of thinking, more about Idelle not wanting to relinquish her hold on you.”

Excusing himself to Kat and explaining he wanted to be certain Philippe understood the details, Thibideau spoke with Phillipe at length in French while Kat tried to follow along.

Finally, the two men stood and shook hands. Thibideau took Katherine’s hand, bowing over it as she thanked him for keeping them safe and up to date with all the information, and for coming to speak with them so soon. Her nose wrinkled faintly as the now-expected air of strong tobacco lingered.

He blinked rapidly as he explained that he was already in the neighborhood, so it was no inconvenience.

After he left, Kat and Philippe danced together around the apartment for a minute or two in pure joy. They were both enormously relieved. Idelle’s mission to scare them had worked, but in the end, right had triumphed. They were curious why Thibideau had been in their neighborhood so early in the morning, but soon let that go.

They were excited to continue with their dream and made a plan to spend the evening looking at restoration drawings for the villa on the Cap. Philippe had stashed them away when the trouble began, and they made a grand ceremony now of unrolling and opening them up.

“Let’s begin by making lists of our ideas, Minou. This is our future we are planning. Our dream. Our promise to each other.”

The continuous stream of holiday festivities delighted Kat. It was such a relief for her simply to enjoy them and not worry about what might unexpectedly happen. She spent much of her days with her camera, capturing small details and moments of unexpected beauty. In the evenings, she selected the best of those shots and worked on her computer to perfect them. Some she put in her daily album, others she set aside for the website, and yet others she put in a folder of candidates to be printed and framed.

Antibes was dazzling in the days before Christmas. Up the street from their apartment, in Place de Gaulle, the fountains were illuminated and spectacular laser shows and light displays enlivened the square at night. The harbor filled with ships for the Semaine de Noël celebrations in the port, and anchored yachts were wreathed with ropes of colored lights and flags, some of them with the figure of Père Noël waving from their masts.

The free commune of Safranier was abuzz with special activities. This medieval village at the heart of Antibes was one of Kat’s favorite spots. Its narrow streets, lined with stone houses, led to a square where the community was devoted to maintaining the ancient traditions of this part of France.

Annette rushed Katherine into the square one morning, after yoga.

“
Voilà!
The longest
bûche de Noël
in the world. Everyone in the commune bakes cake rolls and brings them here. Then they place them end to end and ice the giant cake before they serve it. This one is more than two meters long.”

They sipped
thé au citron
as they took in the fun and inhaled the delicious aromas of cake and roast chestnuts. Kat hated the taste of the nut, but she loved the smell of them roasting on a
brazier
.

Katherine stopped by to see Simone one last time before Christmas, bearing a brightly wrapped box full of her shortbread and a small wooden crate of cheeses selected by Philippe. Kat had called her a few days earlier, but Simone had asked her not to come then, as she was not feeling well. Katherine worried about her but Simone had refused her suggestion that she call every day. “
Non, merci.
I can make a call if I need to, but I don’t want anyone checking on me daily. That would make me feel old!” That morning Simone had left a message to drop by if she had time.

A note on the door read “
Entrez
,” so Katherine let herself in. Dylan’s “Blowin’ in the Wind” floated down the hallway from the studio.

“Simone!
Je suis là!
”

“
Viens ici!
Come down here.”

Kat was relieved to see her friend was looking well.

“
Bonjour, chérie!
I have missed you!”

“
Moi aussi!
I was concerned about you.”

“Really, I was fine—just, as they say, under the weather.
L’infirmière
came by and confirmed I didn’t have pneumonia. That was all I needed to know.”

“And you’ve been painting, I see.” An easel was standing under a skylight, its back to the door.

“
Oui!
It fills me with purpose. It’s the best medicine. You awakened my
joie de Noël
, and I picked this amaryllis from the garden to use as my subject.”

She wiped her hands on her smock, which was covered in smudges and streaks of reds and greens, before leaning in to greet Katherine.

“You already look very festive in that smock,” Katherine joked.

“My chemise ends up as a work of art by the time I complete a piece,” Simone replied, grinning and slipping it off. She hung it on a hook on the wall and wiped the paint off her hands with a rag that stank of turpentine.

Kat looked at the painting on the easel. “This is going to be spectacular,” she exclaimed.

“I’m experimenting with a new blend of reds.
C’est magnifique, non?
”

Beside the easel was a chair on a raised stand.

“That’s my throne,” Simone said. “I sit in my wheelchair to paint the lower part and climb up to the throne to reach the upper portion of the canvas. The frame is on wheels too, and I can lock it in position. I ordered it from an art supply place many years ago, and it works like a charm.”

Kat was impressed yet again by Simone’s independence. It was hard to believe she was the age she was. Age really was just a number.

Katherine looked up and noticed several sets of binoculars on the sill under the row of high windows. There was also a strange headset and some other equipment she did not recognize. None of them had been there on her previous visits. A thought crossed her mind. Were the binoculars for night vision? What could Simone see from up there on her elevated perch?

Simone’s eyes had followed hers, and when Kat turned to her, there was a moment of awkwardness before Simone suggested they go to the kitchen. She turned off the music, and they left the studio.

Katherine searched for something to say in a normal voice, as her imagination was racing wildly. “Sometime you must tell me about your passion for Bob Dylan, if that’s not too bold to ask.”

Simone’s expression put her at ease. It also demanded patience.

She is a master at unspoken communication
, Kat said to herself.

As if reading her thoughts, Simone sent her another silent message while she said, “
Pas de tout, chérie
, not at all. Yes, later I will tell you that, and much more.”

They chatted as they sipped tea, speaking mostly about the French health system and Simone’s few experiences with it.

“I’ve lived a remarkably healthy life, so far. But enough about me. Tell me what has been happening in your
rêve antibois
.”

Kat chuckled. Simone had taken to teasing her about her new life in Antibes.

She suspected that Simone knew precisely what Philippe’s and her connection was to the events that had just occurred in the cove. However, the subject had not been mentioned since the day Simone had said she didn’t know and didn’t want to know.

Simone laughed. “Living the dream. That’s the saying,
chérie, non?
”

“It often feels that I am. I’m loving all the Christmas preparations around the old town—the decorations, the music, the new foods I’m seeing and eating.”

Simone smiled, “I haven’t seen all that for years, but I remember it well.
Si beau.
”

“My big news is that André has chosen five of my photos to hang in his gallery for sale. He’s going to enlarge and frame them for me. I’m so excited!”

“That’s wonderful! I’m so pleased for you.” Simone clapped her hands. “You must bring your portfolio to show me.”

Kat had uploaded those five photos and a few others to her phone to show Simone, who praised each of them and also a number of floral shots. They talked about the possibility of Simone painting some of the images one day.

When they parted, Katherine
bised
Simone’s cheeks extra warmly. She had to resist the urge to hug her, as she had to do with all the French people she especially cared for. It just wasn’t done.

“I wish you peace and happiness through the holidays and will be thinking about you.”

“
Merci, chérie!
On the bright side, I don’t have to share the delicious cookies and the amazing cheese with anyone. Thank you for your thoughtful gifts.
Joyeux Noël en Provence.
Call me upon your return.”