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Julia crouched and scratched Fredric’s head. She grudgingly admitted the telegram would have found her father. But what had it said? She couldn’t shake the tight feeling in her chest. Had M. Paquet’s telegram made her look foolish? Was her father right now thinking she should never travel, or do anything for that matter, alone?
She directed her frustrations at the man in front of her. “Orange has a telegraph office? Does it also have a train station? If I’d gone with you, I could have continued on to Orange with Monsieur Bernard and been in Paris by now.”
M. Paquet’s eyes narrowed. “Oui, I considered it. But I was faster alone. I knew Marcel would leave well before dark. I only just caught him as it was.”
“Well, I do wish you’d told me,” Julia said, standing straight and folding her arms. “Especially as your errand pertained to me directly.”
M. Paquet opened his mouth as if he’d say something further but closed it again. He frowned and left the Lavender Room, closing the door behind him.
Julia felt a pinch of guilt. She’d been unkind, finding fault when she should have been offering thanks for the effort he’d made in her behalf, not to mention his saving her from the scorpion. But his acting without consulting her was just like her father’s hiring a chaperone when one wasn’t necessary. Why did neither of them consider her input on matters directly affecting her own life? Why did nobody trust her judgment?
Once Julia made up the bed, Fredric made himself at home among the pillows. Julia continued to fret as she dressed, tying the borrowed apron and arranging the scarf over her hair. She took her time, straightening the room, not wishing to meet M. Paquet on the stairs—or worse, in the washroom.
Finally, hearing his footsteps descend the stairs, she waited a moment longer, then opened her door. The smell of breakfast filled the house, and Julia wished she’d hurried down to help Gabi with the meal instead of hiding away in her room. Today it felt as if she couldn’t do anything right. She stepped down the stairs but paused in the entry hall beside the painting of Gabi’s house as she heard M. Paquet’s voice in the kitchen. He did not sound happy at all.
“I always keep my cup right here, on this shelf by the sink,” he said.
“Well, now it is put away properly,” Gabi said.
“And what happened to everything?” M. Paquet continued. “Where is the sugar?”
“In the pantry, where it belongs. Juliette has arranged it all; isn’t that wonderful?”
M. Paquet grumbled something Julia couldn’t hear. She assumed it was because he had moved into the pantry. And from the tone of his voice, she didn’t think what he had to say was exactly charitable with regards to her or to the tidied kitchen.
“I do hope the olive seedlings survived their journey from Athens,” Gabi said.
“An extra day inside the crate didn’t help,” Luc said. “They are already delicate. I should have planted them immediately upon my return.”
“But you did a very good thing, riding all the way to Monteaux. A father’s mind is at ease, and that is worth more than the few shoots you might have lost.”
M. Paquet grumbled something else.
Julia’s pinch of guilt tightened.
“I can help plant,” Gabi offered. “The chore will go faster with two.”
“You’ve your own work to do this morning,” he said. “Coquette will miss you, and your garden will as well. I’ll manage in the nursery.”
“Mon cher, you seem unhappy today.” Gabi’s voice was concerned.
“I’m happy,” Luc said. “Just a little tired from all the travel.”
“Ah yes. Few things are as uncomfortable as a long horse ride. The stiffness in your back and the chafing in your—”
“I’ll see you at lunch, Gabi,” M. Paquet interrupted, sounding as if he were holding back a laugh.
Julia heard the kitchen door open and close.
“Childbirth’s no holiday either,” Gabi muttered. “Or arthritis.” She turned away from the door and smiled when Julia entered. “Ah, Juliette. I didn’t wish you a proper good morning.” She kissed both of Julia’s cheeks. “It’s a lovely day today, non? And my kitchen is so orderly. It puts me in high spirits.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Julia said. She sat in the chair Gabi motioned her to and took a slice of bread. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I overheard you mention that M. Paquet was unable to take care of his seedlings yesterday.”
“Eh, oui. They should be planted as soon as possible. And I know he hopes to graft the new buds now, when the weather is still cool. Farmers—always they must depend on the weather. And with last year’s drought and the years before with the blight on the vines... Provence, she has not been kind to those who depend on her for their living.”
Gabi spoke with a smile, but Julia could see sadness in her eyes. And worry. “Do you think... should I help him plant today?”
“Oh, I think he would love that, ma chérie.”
