When the picnic basket was securely stored in the boot and we were once again in the car heading toward Picardy, we reverted back to silence. I attempted to start conversation, but Drew apparently wasn’t in a talkative mood. He kept sending me short glances then swerving as he jerked his attention back to the road. I wondered if he might be thinking of his ex-wife and was upset with me for forcing out unpleasant memories. I spent the remainder of the drive replaying our conversation and thinking of the best way to apologize.
After driving for another half hour, he slowed the car to turn off the motorway and into a small village. The cobbled street winding gently through the town was surrounded on both sides by charming stone buildings, many with iron balconies climbing with bright flowers and vines. Several of the buildings still possessed thatched roofs and it felt as if we’d traveled through time instead of just seventy miles from Paris.
Drew parked the car on the street. “You can wait here if you like. I just need to ask for directions to the chateau.”
“I’ll come with you,” I said. “I’d like to stretch my legs.”
A pained look crossed his face as he approached my side of the car. As he opened my door, he pointed at me while seeming to study the car’s paint at the same time. “You might . . .” He circled his finger in the direction of my stomach.
Looking down I realized that somehow my top had disengaged itself from the waistband of my skirt again and seemed to be comfortably rolled up against the bottom of my brassiere, exposing my entire midriff. I quickly pulled it down, smoothed my skirt, then exited the car with as much dignity as I could muster. I gathered my composure and as we began walking, being careful not to get one of my new sandals stuck between cobbles, I said, “It must have happened when I got into the car. I promise you it wasn’t intentional.”
Drew stopped in front of a café and held the door open for me. “I didn’t think it was.” And then, just as I passed in front of him, he added, “But I wouldn’t have minded if it were.”
I was still blushing when we left the café ten minutes later after obtaining directions—in French—to the Chateau de Courcelles. The owner hadn’t spoken a word of English, for which I was eternally grateful because Drew couldn’t understand all the innuendoes and assumptions about our relationship the man was comfortable sharing with me despite my protests that we were merely acquaintances. When we returned to the car, I quickly put my jumper back on despite the heat and wondered if I’d imagined the look of disappointment on Drew’s face.
With only one wrong turn, I managed to direct Drew out of the village and just a couple of miles to where the man had told me we’d find the chateau. Except it wasn’t there. I looked down at the pencil marks the man had scribbled on a paper napkin for me.
“This is definitely the right place.” We’d left the car in a clearing at the edge of a dense forest, near a rocky path leading up a slight rise through the trees. I looked down at the drawing again, turning in a circle to reorient myself. “I’m quite sure of it. Although I’m beginning to understand the man’s look of confusion when I told him where we wanted to go. I’m wondering . . . ,” I began. I took a step toward the rocky path. “He kept on repeating the word br?le and I thought he was trying to get us to stay for dessert. But now I’m left wondering if he really meant burned—as in burned ruins. Because that would certainly explain why we’re not seeing turrets over the trees.”
“True.” Drew shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded at the path. “You up for a hike?”
I fought back disappointment. How were we to learn anything about a French spy inside the burned-out ruins of an ancient chateau? “We might as well. Maybe the view from the top will be nice.” With a sigh of resignation, I headed toward the path, wishing I had my brogues instead of the strappy sandals Precious had made me wear. At least I’d won the battle over high heels versus low ones or else Drew would have to carry me. Which had probably been her idea all along.
Drew insisted on walking behind me in case I fell, and I kept my jumper on despite the sheen of perspiration clinging to my skin from the exertion. By the time we emerged from the forest, I was panting heavily. Drew showed no strain whatsoever, making me almost wish that I had asked to be carried.
Parts of the wall that had once encircled the castle and its outbuildings remained, a sporadic puzzle with enough stacked stone pieces to be able to envision the length and breadth of the old chateau. Here and there an abbreviated set of brick steps rose to empty spaces. But of the chateau itself, there was nothing but random bricks protruding from the earth like little raised hands to remind the world that it had once existed.