LOVE IS IN THE CELLAR: Verne Estate Series, Book 2

6. Leona

If there’s one thing I hate when I visit Grandma Violette, it’s the strong lemon scent that grabs your nostrils as soon as you walk through the door of the nursing home. That inconvenience aside, I like to come here. The one in Locron, unlike others of the same kind, isn’t a gloomy death-trap. The residents are in a brand-new building with large bay windows overlooking a tree-lined garden.

Some participate in a gentle gym class on the terrace, while others play a game of bridge indoors. I have no trouble spotting Grandma Violette. With her voluminous hairstyle and her pearl necklace, she’s the most elegant woman in the room. I sometimes wonder how she went about raising a daughter – my mother – who thinks that the height of good taste is to wear as many bright colours as possible at the same time. So, we can say that I have more in common with my grandmother than with my mother. Especially since grandma is the one who passed on her passion for the stage to me.

Although she never embraced the acting career, she was part of a small amateur theatre troupe that toured in the villages of the region. I was able to witness a few of her performances as a child before old age pinned her in a wheelchair. Moreover, this doesn’t prevent her from behaving as if life were a gigantic show.

I approach and greet her:

“Hello, grandma.”

“Oh! Leona! What a lovely surprise!” she exclaims with far too much enthusiasm.

She knows very well that I was to visit her this morning; Earlier on the phone, I heard my mother tell her that I’d come and pick her up for our Sunday lunch. She’s just trying to play surprise. What was I saying about her taking life as if it were a show?

She examines me from head to toe and a slight smile appears on her lips. It means that she appreciates what she sees.

“Are you ready?” I ask after kissing her.

She still wears the same perfume, Paris by Yves Saint–Laurent. When I was little, I admired the bottle, imagining myself walking proudly through the streets of the capital with the same fragrance as my grandmother on my skin. Regarding the tale of perfume, I quickly changed my mind. As for fame, we know how that went.

Grandma Violette greets her bridge friends with a smirk which implies: I’m going out today and not you, and heads in the direction of the exit with her wheelchair. I let her go to the door, I know she doesn’t like to show that she needs help. Her bracelets jingle with every movement of her arms. After a few meters, when we’re out of sight, I take over and grab the handles of the chair to push her down the path.

“Your mother told me that you had a little party last night for your return.”

Implied: And of course, you didn’t invite me.

“Yes, well, nothing special… There were mostly friends of mom and dad. And we’ll celebrate it today as a family!”

She makes a little disdainful noise and continues:

“It seems that Nico’s son sent you a gift to apologize for his absence?”

Of course, my mother had to talk to her about that.

“Yes,” I mumble.

“I’ve always liked that little one,” said Grandma Violette. “And sending flowers to your mother to apologize is proof that he has become a true gentleman.”

“You mustn’t have seen him for a long time to call him that little one,” I remarked.

I’m on the verge of adding: And he’s certainly not a gentleman.

I help grandma get out of her wheelchair and put her on the car seat. Once the manoeuvre is over, I begin to struggle with the chair to try to fold it and put it in the trunk.

“Need a hand?” asks a female voice.

I look up and see a young woman about my age, but a little taller than me, come towards me. The rays of the sun behind her prevent me from seeing her face properly.

“Hello, Leona, I’m Loraine. We were in high school together,” she announces with a slightly hesitant tone.

She holds out her hand to greet me, and now that she’s a little closer, I see that she’s indeed familiar to me. I would never have remembered her name though. You have to believe that fate is bent on making me meet all my final year class in one weekend.

Before I can say more than a “Hello,” she grabs the chair, folds it like she’s been doing this all her life, and slips it into my trunk.

“Did you come to pick up your grandmother?” she asks, apparently already knowing the answer.

She adds:

“My grandfather has been living here for a short time as well.”

She then turns to Granny Violette and says through the still open door:

“Hello, Mrs Astier!”

“Hello, Loraine! No criminals to arrest today?” granny answers.

“No, not on my day off,” Loraine jokes before adding for me: “I’m the village police officer.”

“Ah, super!” I say, not knowing what else to say.

“It seems that you’re back in the village for a while?”

“I see the news travels fast.”

“It was your grandmother who told me. She and my grandfather are friends.”

Grandma makes a sound that I’m not sure how to interpret.

“I think he has a soft spot for her,” Loraine confides to me in a low voice.

She then resumes:

“I’m pleased to meet you anyway.”

“Yes, me too.”

I see that she hesitates for a moment to add something, then she says:

“We’re going to have a drink at the Café de la Place at the end of the afternoon with some friends. You should come.”

“That’s nice...” I stammered, not knowing what to say.

“The girls will be happy to see you again,” she adds.

I have no idea who the girls are, and before I can say anything, Grandma Violette answers for me:

“She’ll be there!”

“That’s great! So, see you soon! I’m off, otherwise, Grandpa Gus isn’t going to be happy; he hates when I’m late.”

Am I dreaming or did my grandmother just accepted an invitation for me?

A few hours later, I head for the Café de la Place. I’m the first to be surprised. In principle, I hate that my hand is forced... and I had the feeling that my grandmother hadn’t left me a choice on this one. Also, Loraine and I weren’t friends back in high school. It’s not that there was any conflict between us, but rather that we weren’t from the same group.

Everyone knows this in high school. There are very distinct groups classified by interests, but above all by popularity. And I was at the top of the social ladder, with the most fashionable athletes and girls; in my memories, Loraine was rather at the bottom of the ranking.

But water has flowed under the bridge since that time, hasn’t it? And if I’m here for a few months, it won’t hurt to have a few people to hang out with who aren’t my own family. I admit I’m also a little curious. When she said girls, I wondered who she was referring to. Will I meet some of my friends there? When I left for Paris, I kind of took my life with me. You have to believe that I didn’t have friendships strong enough to resist the distance. I might even be a poor friend. A few of the girls I hung out with kept calling me for a while, offering to see me when I was in Locron for Christmas or the holidays. But since I never called back, they got bored eventually, I guess. Little by little, I lost contact; I have no idea if they still live nearby or not.

The main square in the village hasn’t changed much. In fact, not at all, except for a few shops whose storefronts have been renovated. A little boy dips his hands in the fountain in the centre and tries to water the pigeons. His mother scolds him under the watchful eye of a few old men seated on a bench in the shade of the plane trees.

My steps take me to the café terrace. It’s certainly the place that has evolved the most in recent years. Since Mark, Cora’s twin brother, took over the management of the place previously managed by his parents, he has completely redesigned it. I had the opportunity to have lunch there with my sister on my last visit, and I must say I was surprised. Its cuisine is better than a lot of trendy Parisian restaurants. Also, its prices are much more attractive.

Loraine is already there and beckons me. Her companions all turn in my direction and I feel a little moment of uncertainty. They must be judging me. Am I sufficiently well-groomed, dressed? Or maybe too much? I hesitated for a long time before going. What’s the local dress code for going for a coffee on a Sunday afternoon with vague acquaintances?

The three girls smile at me. At least they seem happy to see me. Unless they are actresses too.

“Leona! You came!” said Loraine, getting up to greet me.

“Hello,” I say awkwardly, waving my hand to the two young women around the table who all look vaguely familiar.

Loraine begins the introductions.

“You certainly know Romy?” she asks, pointing to the redhead sitting to her right.

I nod my head. Romy works in the village bakery; so, even though I’m not around often, I’ve run into her a few times in recent years.

“And this is Elena.”

“We were in the same class,” I said, with sudden recall.

“Yes, I changed. Goodbye to glasses and braces,” she laughs.

Indeed, I remember a shy girl with often misshapen clothes and hiding her face behind a long curtain of brown hair. Today, she wears it in a trendy bob that highlights her green eyes.

Loraine adds:

“Elena has become a schoolteacher.”

“Which class?” I ask, sitting down in the empty chair to her left.

“Kindergarten,” she answers with a smile from ear to ear.

“Well done. I couldn’t do that,” I honestly say.

Kids and I… we’re not friends. Guess I’ll have to work on that since my sister is ready to lay one of these little things shortly. But I count on the fact that a kind of aunt instinct will develop in me. It works well with the parents, why not with the rest of the family?

“What about you?” Romy asks me. “It seems that you’re coming back to live in Locron? I’ve heard customers talk about it.”

“Yes... well, it’s temporary. I came to replace my sister during her maternity leave. I’m here for a few months.”

“Are you going to work at the Verne Estate? That’s great!” exclaims Elena. “I love that place. If I get married one day, I want to have the reception there.”

The estate, in addition to being a vineyard, also serves as a reception venue. Madelyn and Jameson got married there.

“If we’re to believe the tradition, the next to take the plunge will be Loraine. She was the one who caught the bouquet at Leona’s sister’s wedding,” says Romy.

Loraine rolls her eyes and says:

“For now, I have as much chance of getting married as of finding the cure for Ellen. And that goes for both of you as well. So, let’s not start planning weddings that’ll probably never happen.”

“Are you all three single?” I ask.

They answer me with a general nod, and Romy adds:

“It’s not for lack of doing everything to meet someone. It has become almost laughable; we have so little luck with men that some in the village have given us a nickname: the bachelorette clan.

Oh, yes, anyway.

“We must sound ridiculous to you, but I assure you that the three of us have really bad luck with the guys,” says Elena.

“Now that you’re here, maybe you can give us some advice?” Loraine offers with a wink.

I see a glimmer of hope shining deep in the eyes of her friends.

“Me? I’m single too.”

It’s true. My last relationship ended a few months ago, and it wasn’t really serious. I spent too much time trying to get my career off the ground to have the time to look for a man.

“Yes, but you always knew how to deal with them,” said Romy. “In high school, you melted them all; what was your secret?”

I pretend to think and propose with a smile:

“Acid?”

They all look at me with wide eyes for a second, long enough to understand my joke, then burst out laughing.

A few seconds later, I see that Mark, the owner of the place, comes in my direction to greet me. Our respective sisters being the best friends in the world since childhood, we know each other well.

“Hi, Leo,” he said, kissing me. “Hi, girls,” he says in the direction of my neighbours at the table.

The three respond with a very enthusiastic hello and smile from ear to ear. Loraine even blushed slightly. Mark is quite a handsome boy in the bad boy still, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she had a soft spot for him. All good girls have a thing for him.

“Sorry about the evening with your parents yesterday. The restaurant was full and I didn’t stop. When it finally calmed down, Jenny made me promise to come home.”

Jenny has been his girlfriend for several years. Mark seems to be as loyal to her as a Labrador. So, unfortunately, if Loraine has fallen for him, she doesn’t stand a chance.

I reassure him that he hasn’t missed anything. He wishes me a safe return to Locron and goes back to the kitchen.

The three girls let out a simultaneous sigh.

“You see, you’re already bringing us luck. Mark always says hello, but he never comes to talk to us,” comments Elena.

I don’t point out to her that technically he only said hello and was talking to me.

“You have to come with us to the singles parties,” announces Romy.

I almost choke on my lemonade.

“To… what?”

“Singles parties. There are two a month in Locron. You’ll see, it’s very nice,” said Loraine.

“I’m not sure…”

I didn’t come here with the idea of meeting someone. I’m only in the area for a few months, now isn’t the time. Besides, I’m not looking to find the man of my life now. I still have at least ten years for that.

“Come on, it’s settled! You’ll come with us the next evening!” exclaims Romy.

“I feel like we’re going to have a good time with you,” Elena said, banging her glass against mine as if we were toasting the decision.

I have the feeling that today everyone has agreed to accept things for me. But I don’t think it’s even worth protesting. They seem to have established that I’ll be there. While normally I would have hated it, I find myself being rather amused by the situation. I’ve been with these girls for less than an hour and find them strangely likeable and weird at the same time. But I like it. And above all, I feel like I’m accepted into their little club – even if I hope no one is going to give me the ugly nickname they’ve got.

We continue to discuss everything and nothing for over an hour. The sun is low on the horizon. But in June, it’s not yet ready to set. As we say our goodbyes, Romy tells me:

“Good luck for tomorrow! I hope it won’t be too hard.”

“Thanks, it should be fine. Unless I run into a particularly horrible co-worker on day one, of course,” I joke.

They exchange a look that I find strange.

“What? Is there something I should be worried about? Do you know the people who work there?”

Loraine opens her mouth, ready to speak, then seems to change her mind and closes it. The three of them remain silent.

“Uh? Girls?” I questioned them.

Elena laughs nervously and replies:

“No, it’s nothing. I guess you already know about it anyway. It’s just that we’re still stuck in the high school days when you hated each other; so, when we found out, we were rather surprised. But it’s silly.”

I raise a questioning eyebrow and she exchanges a panicked look with Loraine, realizing that I have no idea what she’s talking about.

The policewoman begins:

“Manon. Manon Nico.”

“Yes? What does he have to do with anything?”

What did he do this time?

She clears her throat and says:

“Well, he works at the Verne Estate now. He’s the new cellar master.”