“They don’t.”
“Fabrice does.Ido.”
She smiled. “That makes me wonder, sometimes. Jean-Paul, why did you offer to buy my rabbit, sight unseen? And then every time the carousel came up in conversation, it seemed like it bothered you.”
He blew out a long breath. “I’ve tried to approach Fabrice about the possibility of saving the château, from several angles over the years, including the idea of using a restored carousel as a tourist attraction. I came back to Saint-Véran, thinking I would try one more time to talk to him about the possibilities, but you saw how he greeted me. And then he let you in, not only to the house but apparently into his heart. I’m happy for him, but it’s also been a little...”
“Galling?” she suggested.
Jean-Paul nodded, leading the way around the house to the ground floor, where a picturesque stone veranda sat under a pergola. A vine twisted its limbs around the posts, bare of leaves but covered in small green buds, promising greenery and flowers to come.
He opened a set of French doors and waved her in.
“This used to be a storage area and wine cellar, but I made this entrance and converted it into an apartment for when I come to visit.”
Inside, golden gray stone walls formed a backdrop to simplefurniture: a kitchenette with a small table in a dining alcove, a bedroom area with a bath beyond. There were fine built-ins and niches with artifacts on display, and a few bright oil paintings livened up the muted walls.
“It’s lovely,” said Cady as she took it all in.
“It’s not easy to shoehorn things like plumbing and electrical into old stone walls,” Jean-Paul said as he showed her around the small unit. “But the historic character makes it worth it.”
“So this is how you know so much about restoration?”
“I do a lot of historic redesign with my architecture firm. And I love old buildings—the history, the romance, the craftsmanship. Which is how I know exactly what I would be getting into with the family château.” He shook his head. “I’ve gone over it and over it in my head, and it just doesn’t make any sense to try to take it on. Not alone, anyway.”
“Aren’t there any other family members interested in taking part?”
“No, they’re all busy with their lives, and it’s a massive undertaking.”
She noticed a roll of blueprints alongside a sheaf of papers with familiar-looking handwriting and drawings.
“Are these by Fabrice?” she asked, picking up the stack. “They look like the maps he draws for me, of the village and the wine cellar.”
“Yes, they are. When he came back to live at the château with his father in the seventies, Fabrice intended to renovate it. Apparently he and his father repaired some of the woodwork and redid a few of the rooms, but their grand plans fell by the wayside eventually.”
“And the blueprints are of the château?”
He nodded. “My ex-fiancée and I did some work on them.”
“This was back before she decided small-town life wasn’t to her liking?”
“Exactly.”
“So, it would take a whole fleet of help to get the château into shape?”
“Or at the very least”—Jean-Paul fixed Cady with a look she hadcome to know, a look with a sort of puzzled, intrigued, yet ever-so-slightly-annoyed smile—“a really committed partner.”
“I can’t get over the way you look at me.”
“How do I look at you?”
“As though you don’twantto like me.”
After a momentary pause, he said, “You’re leaving soon.”
“So you keep reminding me. I told you, I canceled my ticket back.”
“You mean you’re never leaving?”
