switch the focus of the conversation away from himself. “How about you?”
“Oh, I have a brother and two sisters. All older, and all living in other parts of France now. We only see each other at Christmas. My mom’s still alive, but she went back to be with her family in the north-west after dad died.”
“So you’re all alone here.”
She smiled. “All alone. Just me and Tasha. It’s a good thing I have a job that takes up most of my life.”
Guy returned to let Enzo taste the red. “It’s a Vosne Romanee premier cru,” he said. “Tell me what you think.”
Enzo sipped the rich red wine and his brow furrowed with pleasure. “Spice. Coffee. Pure, concentrated cherry.” He shook his head. “An amazing wine, Guy. Really amazing.”
“Good. Because you need an amazing wine to go with your humble veal chop. Marc always cut the chop from the ribs himself. A beautiful, thick slab of meat on the bone. And he perfected a process he called double deglazing to produce the most concentrated and wonderful jus to go with it, thickened with foie gras.” He paused. “Oh, and in case you are in any way squeamish, all our veal calves are raised in the open and feed from their mothers. Marc always insisted on that. He believed that the animals we eat should be respected in every way.”
The veal, when it came, was beyond doubt the best veal chop that Enzo had ever tasted. While it looked no different on the plate from any he’d had before, the flavour was so rich, and the meat so tender, that it was hard to believe that it was not the mythological food of the Greek gods. And if the veal was the ambrosia, then the wine was the nectar. It was as if the gods themselves had designed them to be eaten and drunk in concert. He finished his plate, and looked up to see in Dominique’s expression the regret that he felt himself in bringing the experience to a conclusion.
They drank the last of the wine with a selection of delicious local mountain cheeses, and completed their meal with a delicate tart of tender pumpkin on a chocolate-coffee sauce, served with hazelnut flavoured ice- cream.
Dominique sat back, flushed from the wine, her eyes shining. “I have never eaten a meal like that,” she said. “And I probably never will again. Thank you for the experience, Enzo. It was truly wonderful.” She laughed. “I will now go on a diet for the next month. And after all that wine, it’s a good thing I came up by taxi.”
Chapter Sixteen
After coffee and petits fours in the lounge, Enzo and Dominique wandered through the lobby to the main entrance. Enzo noticed that there was still no one at reception, and no sign of Anne Crozes.
As the revolving door ushered them out into the cold wind coming off the mountains, Dominique slipped her arm unselfconsciously through Enzo’s. Much to his surprise. He didn’t react, but Dominique did. Suddenly aware of what she had done she quickly withdrew it.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Her face flushed even more darkly. “Must be the wine. I’m forgetting who I’m with.”
Enzo smiled. “You can put your arm through mine any time you like, Dominique.”
She looked at him speculatively. “I’m probably not that much older than your eldest daughter.”
He laughed. “You’re not.”
“And you probably think I’m far too young and unsophisticated for a man like you.”
Almost unthinking, he reached out to brush away the hair that the wind was blowing in her eyes. “Neither of these, Dominique. You’re smart, attractive, and single. And all of those things make you very appealing.” He grinned. “Especially to an old guy like me.” He chuckled. “The only observation I would make is that I am far too old for you. You want a young man with a future ahead of him.”
“I want a man I feel something for. It doesn’t matter to me what age he is.” Her eyes met his very directly. And the smile on her face was replaced by something a little more intense. He felt his tummy flip over. “I’d like to cook for you sometime.” And she laughed, breaking the tension. “Not that I can offer you anything like we’ve had today. But it would be nice. Just the two of us.”
“And Tasha.”
She laughed unrestrainedly. “Yes. And Tasha.”
“I’d like that,” he said.
They turned at the sound of a car horn, as Dominique’s taxi pulled up in the turning circle in front of the hotel. She leaned forward quickly, pushing herself up on her tip-toes, to kiss him briefly on the lips. And then she was gone, down the steps, and pulling in the tail of her coat as she closed the rear door of the taxi. The car revved and coughed diesel fumes into the wind and was gone with a crunching of tires over gravel.
Enzo was suddenly aware of a presence at his shoulder, and he turned to find Guy there.
“Attractive woman,” Guy said thoughtfully. “I’ve only seen her in uniform, so I had no real impression of her before.”
Enzo shook his head sadly. “And far too young for me.”
Guy nodded. “Me too. A young woman like that? She’d drive you to an early grave.” And he laughed. “Anyway, I hope you enjoyed lunch.”
“We did, very much. It was an extraordinary experience, Guy.”
Guy scratched his chin. “You probably feel like going and sleeping it off right now. But I was going to suggest that you might like to go for a walk this afternoon. I’ll take you down to see the kitchen garden, and then up on the hill to stretch your legs. Better for you to walk it off than sleep it off.”
“I’d like that,” Enzo said. “It would give us a chance to talk. There are some things I have been meaning to ask you.”
The sound of a car coming up the hill drew his attention away from the elder Fraysse brother. He saw Anne Crozes’ Renault Scenic emerging from the pine trees as it rounded the bend in the road. She accelerated past them, and up into the car park beneath the plane trees.
Enzo turned back to Guy. “I’ll catch you in about half an hour, then.” And he headed off around the east side of the hotel toward the car park.
Anne Crozes saw him approaching as she slammed the driver’s door shut. She looked around for a moment, almost in a panic, as if seeking an escape. But there was only one way to exit the car park, and she couldn’t do that without passing him. He saw the resignation in the slump of her shoulders as he approached, and he looked at her this time with different eyes.
When he had first encountered her at the reception desk, he’d had an impression of a woman in her early forties, slim, attractive. But out here, in the unforgiving fall light of late October on the plateau, the cold pinching skin and draining color from her face, he saw that she looked older. That she had been attractive when younger was clear. And it was the impression she still gave at first glance. But shoulder-length auburn hair cut in an old- fashioned pageboy style was surely dyed now, and the lines around her eyes and mouth, and the thinness of her face, gave it a certain meanness on closer inspection. Enzo had the sense of a woman worn down by life, disillusioned, bitterness revealed in the thin line of her lips.
“Madame Crozes. Could I have word?”
Nervous grey eyes gave him a cold look. “I have to get back to work.” She tried to step around him, but he moved to the side to block her.
“It won’t take a moment.”
“A moment to what? Ruin my life?”
“I would say there’s a good chance that’s already happened.”
A look like pain flashed across her eyes, to be replaced almost immediately by anger. “And what would you know about it?”
“That’s what I am hoping you’ll tell me.”
Her jaw set itself in a jut of determination. “I don’t want to talk to you, Monsieur Macleod.”
“Or you don’t want to be seen talking to me.” Again that flash of pain. “The fact is, madame, you can talk to me here, and now. Or we can do it at the gendarmerie.”
She sighed and folded her arms across her chest. “What do you want?”
