“This is Marlow Linden and her daughter, Sabine,” said Guillaume. “They have bought a house in Mirabelle. It’s not inhabitable yet, so they are staying here as long as they wish.”
Sabine saw her mum swoon just a tiny bit. Wow. Her mother was going to hook up with amaison de champagneowner. That was fast.
“Tomorrow, while we go through your paperwork,” said Guillaume, “perhaps Aubin can show Sabine a few sights. He is finished with school, and even though he works here for the summer, I can give him a day off.”
“Oh, that’s not—I can help my mum,” said Sabine. She was not going to get roped into anything of the sort.
“Great idea,” said Marlow. “Technically, we’re on holiday. We haven’t done that in a while.”
“Then it’s settled,” said Guillaume. “Aubin will take Sabine on a tour. It will be fun.”
Like a stick in your eye is fun.
“I’ll show you to your rooms,” said Guillaume. “I’m sure you’re exhausted.”
When Marlow and Sabine reconvened on the terrace for breakfast the next morning, there was a spread of fruit, baguette, preserves, and a platter piled high with croissants and pains au chocolat. So. Much. Butter. Marlow watched Sabine pull a croissant apart and eat it, ends first, then the outer flaky layers, then the soft delicious inside.
The vineyards were beautiful in the sunshine. A groundskeeper tended to the garden. Madame Klein brought a new pot of hot coffee, tea, and juice. They ate like royalty. Maybe Guillaumewasroyalty. Who lived like this?
Aubin didn’t appear until the end of breakfast. “Bonjour,” he said, grabbing an apple.
“You were out late,” said Guillaume.
Aubin shrugged. “End-of-school party.”
“If you’re tired, it’s OK, you don’t have to take me around,” said Sabine.
“I’m fine,” said Aubin.
“Don’t you want me to help you work on the appeal?” Sabine asked Marlow. She was clearly trying to get out of this. It was abit comical, actually. But it would be good for her to unwind with someone her own age.
“I can do that,” said Guillaume. “You’re in France! There is all of Haute-Marne to discover—begin with thispetit coin. How do you say? This tiny corner.”
Sabine shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Marlow decided not to save her.
“I’ll get ready,” said Aubin, heading back inside. A dubious Sabine followed.
“Shall we get to work?” asked Guillaume. “Then we can deliver your paperwork.”
“Thank you so much. Maybe we can go a bit early, so I can see the house again. When I’m not in as much of a fog.”
“Of course. I have things to do nearby, then I’ll double back and get you.”
Thank God she’d run into this calm, dreamy, together man—a knight in shining armor. She melted a bit but caught herself.Do not complicate things. Do not fall for him. Do not hope he can save you. Do not do not do not.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sabine sat in front of Guillaume’s house, drawing vineyards in a new little homemade book, waiting for Aubin. She was annoyed with him for making her wait but also happy to just sit.
Actually, she wanted to find out about prom, so she called Willa on WhatsApp, using the Wi-Fi code Madame Klein had supplied. It rang several times before Willa picked up.
“Been waiting for you to call,” said a raspy-voiced Willa. “What took you so long?”
“Did I wake you up? I’m an idiot, I forgot about the time difference. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. How’s the house? Is it perfect? Please tell me it’s perfect.”
“More like a train wreck,” said Sabine. “I’ll tell you more, but how was prom?”
