“In the 1700s, an old watchmaker’s daughter married her sweetheart on the beach in Honfleur. The day after the wedding, friends gathered to help the bride and groom with the cleanup, and later they all took a boat out to a sandbank in the Seine.
“It was low tide, and they danced and had a grand time, not even noticing the rapidly rising water around them. By the time they realized their boat had been swept away, it had gone too far for them to reach it.
“The water continued to rise, and the currents were treacherous. Folks on land heard their desperate cries for help, and boats were sent to save the stranded partiers. The winds picked up, the waters got even rougher, and the rescuers had to watch in shock when an enormous wave crashed over the group on the sandbank and pulled them all under. Nobody survived, and the bride and groom were found on the beach the next day with their arms still around each other.”
Stella liked Caroline’s voice when she recited old stories, and the way she brought them to life. Her native French combined with a British accent and her proper pronunciations were like special effects in an audiobook.
“Do you know who wrote the story? It’s so heartbreaking,” Stella said.
“Yes, Jacob Venedey, a German publicist and politician, published it in his travel diaries in 1838. The story, called The Death-Wedding of Honfleur, was told to him by an old sailor who was a young child when the tragic event happened.
“Now, back to some practicalities. We have ninety minutes before we reach Arromanches-les-Bains, where we will stay tonight. Arromanches played an important role in the Normandy landings, when Port Winston, an artificial port named after Winston Churchill, was installed almost overnight. Within days the Allies disembarked over three hundred thousand troops and more than fifty thousand vehicles there.”
“I thought we weren’t doing World War II stuff,” Harry interrupted.
“As I said this morning,” Caroline glared at him, “we’re not focusing on it, but we can’t quite ignore it either. Remnants of the artificial harbor are still visible, and at low tide you can walk out to those huge cement blocks. We need to be aware of them, to avoid unpleasant exchanges with our customers in case they expect only sandy beaches and are bothered by it.”
“I think Harry needs to get lost somewhere,” Naomi muttered to Stella.
“Can’t you just ignore him?” Stella whispered.
“No, he’s the kind of stupid I can’t tolerate. He’s going to severely test my patience.”
“Since when do you have patience?”
Harry looked over at them and winked.
“Ugh,” Stella groaned. “I changed my mind. You’re right. He is going to be annoying.”
Their hotel in Arromanches was covered with gray shingles which appeared to have withstood many storms. As they rounded the corner, Stella saw an inviting-looking terrace wrapped around two sides of the hotel, and she could imagine them sitting there later, sheltered from the wind by tall glass panes, sipping a glass of wine, watching the sunset.
“I don’t know how François managed to drive the bus through those tiny streets without losing his rearview mirrors. And ours is only a minibus. Imagine one of the large coach buses we saw outside of town,” Naomi said. “I was starting to hold my breath, hoping it would help us squeeze through those alleys.”
“He must’ve done it a few times, but I agree,” Stella said.
Caroline called for the group’s attention. “After checking in, you’re free to spend the rest of the afternoon on your own. I’m sure you’ll enjoy this picturesque little town, so explore it at your own pace.
“We’ll meet at the hotel restaurant at 7:30 for dinner. If anybody is interested in a short side trip to Bayeux, let me know. It’s not on our itinerary, but François doesn’t mind taking you there. The city was fortunate and avoided destruction following D-Day, and the eleventh-century, world-renowned Bayeux Tapestry alone is worth a visit.”
Without hesitating, Andrew and Sarah, as well as Steve and Linda, said they wanted to go and agreed to leave with François within a few minutes.
“I’m going to check out the beach life and work on my tan,” Harry announced while he rubbed his round belly.
“Thanks for the warning,” Naomi snarked. “Now I know where I won’t go.”
“JuJu, wanna join me? Did you bring your bikini?” he gave Julia one of his creepy winks.
“Harry, it’s tempting, but I think I’ll catch up with Emily and see how things are going at home,” Julia said from the check-in desk, barely bothering to conceal her disgust. Stella wondered how long it would be before she exploded.
“Ah, your loss, ha ha. Tell Em I said hi. I’m sure she’s missing me,” Harry said and went to the elevator.
Stella said to Naomi, “The wife’s probably ecstatic to be rid of him. Too bad her friend has him nipping at her heels. I hope Julia’s still willing to be friends with her when she gets back home.”
Their room was small, but comfortable and clean, and the bathroom was well stocked with guest amenities. Stella picked up one of the complimentary soaps and held it to her nose. A potent but not overpowering lavender scent greeted her. She decided there were more than enough soaps and called, “I’m going to snag one of the soaps. There are plenty.”
“Did you see the sachets on our pillows? A note says they’re a welcome gift.”
“I love it.” Stella remembered how David’s mother put lavender sachets in the bath cabinet where she kept guest towels. Maybe Stella would do it at home, too.
“Okay, I’m in,” Naomi announced from her bed.
“In where?” Stella had wandered to the balcony, where she took in the view over the bay. It was low tide, and people were walking around the cement blocks Caroline mentioned earlier. They didn’t bother her, but she could see where they’d be in the way
