“I’m saying that this is family business, and it’s complicated. I don’t mean to be unkind, but you don’t understand all the players, or the history—not to mention that you will be long gone while the rest of us suffer the consequences.”
“There’s— I’m—,” she stammered as the waiter set two steaming copper pots on the table. “I know sometimes I push too hard. But I think Fabrice—”
“Cady,” Jean-Paul interrupted, “could we make a pact, just for the present time, to enjoy our food? One should never argue over a meal.”
“Of course,” Cady said, holding up her wine. “To détente.”
“À détente,”he said, clinking her glass.
After a leisurely lunch of monkfish and potatodauphinoise, followed by pungent local cheeses and crusty bread, accompanied by the delicious and delicate wine, Jean-Paul insisted they share a citron tart with Italian meringue.
“I can’t believe I ate all that,” she said as they left.
“Yes, you put up a good fight, but you were seduced by our local cuisine. It has been known to happen to many an American tourist. What you need is a long walk, which is fortunate, because the car is parked quite some distance away.”
As they strolled in the early spring sunshine, Jean-Paul pointed out various local landmarks and features of Avignon’s medieval architecture.
“You know, if you ever get tired of being a fancy Parisian architect, you would make an excellent tour guide.”
“Thank you. That is good to know.”
“Or... I forgot. You plan to become a wealthy developer of historic properties.”
“So our détente is over already,” he said with a sad smile. “Do you have something against making money?”
“No. And of course, the château will be yours to do with as you will. It’s just sohistoric; it seems a shame to have some hotel chain turn it into some plastic version of itself.”
“Best Western does a wonderful job.”
“Best Western?”In Cady’s mind any motel chain was synonymous with cheap lodgings. She thought back to motels she had stayed in over the years—the funky carpets, the dubious sheets, the moldy showers. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“I’m completely serious. They’ve been acquiring old properties, renovating them, updating when necessary—you may have noticed that the bathrooms in old buildings can be appalling, for example. And they run them as luxury hotels. They’re very beautiful.”
“If you say so,” she said skeptically. “You bought me that fantastically sumptuous lunch, so at this point I’ll pretty much agree with anything you say.”
“Aha, so I have found the way to make you cooperative.”
“I’m always cooperative.”
He chuckled. Back in the car, he negotiated heavy traffic and a string of roundabouts to get out of the city, then announced: “I am taking you on a quick detour.”
“I still need to do the shopping and make dinner.”
“It will be quick.
“You see?” he said, pulling up in front of an eighteenth-century stone building called Le Najeti Hôtel la Magnaneraie in Villeneuve-lès-Avignon, just five minutes outside of Avignon proper. “It is a beautiful hotel, run by Best Western.”
As Jean-Paul rolled past slowly, Cady caught a glimpse of the ornate lobby.
“Wow. I have to say, you were right. This place is... well, it’s gorgeous. I really had no idea. So they’re interested in turning Château Clement into a hotel?”
“I’ve only had a preliminary discussion with some of their people. It is a possibility.” Jean-Paul glanced over at her. “I know it soundsromantic to renovate a château, Cady, but not only do I lack sufficient time and money—something like that has to be a labor of love. I would have to move back to Saint-Véran full-time....” He shook his head.
“Was your fiancée interested in updating the château?”
“She...” He trailed off, seemingly searching for words. “She decided she did not like the idea of small-village life.”
“I think it’s charming,” Cady said with a sigh. “And I think renovating the château would be enchanting.”
