Page 18 of A French Inheritance
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Lucy poured coffee into two insulated non-spill mugs, added a spoonful of sugar to one and placed them in a wicker basket alongside a plastic container with biscuits and a bottle of water. Adam was busy doing the weekly stint of weed-clearing in the avocado field. She knew he wouldn’t bother to stop and come up to the farmhouse for a mid-morning break so she’d walk down to him. She needed to talk to him and, taking him a coffee in the middle of a job, she was guaranteed to have his attention.
Django was instantly at the door when she picked up the basket and the keys. ‘Extra morning walk today,’ she said, locking the door behind her.
Adam smiled at her and dropped the hoe he was using to remove the weeds and aerate the earth around each plant when she reached him. ‘You’re a lifesaver. I was just thinking I could murder a coffee.’
They stood companionably drinking coffee and Adam devoured several biscuits.
Lucy took a sip of her coffee. ‘I think – no I know, I’m going to need help this summer. It’s shaping up to be our best summer yet. The gîte is already fully booked for July and August and most of September, and the early summer months are filling up too. I want to start advertising the stable gîtes soon, once I’ve furnished them, and hopefully we’ll start to get interest and bookings for the summer.’
‘Debs and Hannah were a great help last year,’ Adam said.
‘I know, but their student days are behind them. They’ve both got proper jobs now with limited holidays and there’s going to be three gîtes occupied for at least several weeks this summer. That’s a lot of weekly washing and cleaning. And if we go ahead with offering breakfast and dinner in the farmhouse too…’ Lucy shook her head. ‘I can’t be everywhere, or do everything. Editing the YouTube videos is time-consuming. And we really need to think about finding someone to help man thepèpiniére. It really needs someone on hand to serve people who want to buy plants and pots.’
Adam nodded thoughtfully. ‘Okay. There’s bound to be someone local looking for a part-time summer job. Ask in the village, see if anyone is interested before we start advertising. And maybe Holly or Calvin would keep an eye out for customers in thepèpiniére.’
‘I don’t think that would work – definitely not for Holly. If she’s in the middle of making a pot or something, we can’t realistically expect her to stop and man thepèpiniére.’
‘No,’ Adam agreed. ‘The person who helps you would probably need to know something about plants, wouldn’t they?’
Lucy nodded. ‘It’s lucky we don’t have any animals other than Django. Honestly, when you think about the amount of work a farmer’s wife in the old days was expected to do – help with livestock, feed the family and any workers, help on the land, keep chickens. All with no modern conveniences. I don’t know how they managed to fit everything in. I’m glad I live in the twenty-first century, that’s all I can say.’
‘Right, back to work.’ Adam finished his coffee and placed the cup in the basket before casually asking, ‘What d’you think Robyn said in that letter?’
‘No idea,’ Lucy replied, not at all surprised by the unexpected question. The brothers were close and Adam did worry about his younger brother.
‘I sort of wish Elliot had opened the envelope before tearing it up. It’s always better to know what the enemy is up to than not,’ Adam said.
‘Enemy?’ Lucy said. ‘Robyn’s not his enemy. She’s his ex-wife.’
‘A bitter ex-wife, which makes her an enemy in my view,’ Adam said. ‘A woman scorned and all that.’
Lucy sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right, but Elliot was the one scorned in the end, not her. I understand him not wanting anything to do with her. She hurt him so much with her actions and I think he’s right not to want to let her back into his life in any shape or form.’
‘I hope not receiving a reply from him doesn’t mean she takes it into her head to turn up here to talk to him face to face, that’s all,’ Adam said.
‘That’s a risk, I admit, but I honestly can’t see what she’d get out of doing that. She literally emptied his bank account, as well as scuppering his career in England. He’s got nothing left to give her.’
13
Jeannie drove into Cannes the next morning with a thoughtful Briony beside her in the passenger seat. ‘Shall we have a coffee before or after our meeting with Monsieur Caumont, the notaire?’
‘A quick walk along the Croisette before would be good. Get some sea air,’ Briony said. ‘Afterwards, we can have a coffee and maybe a stroll around Forville Marché if it’s still on.’
‘I’ll park in the Palais des Festivals underground car park then, nice and central,’ Jeannie said.
Ten minutes later, the car was parked and they were making their way along the Croisette in the sunshine. ‘Have you met the notaire before?’ Briony asked curiously.
‘No, but I dropped Granny off there once for an appointment, so I know where his office is,’ Jeannie said. ‘He was recommended to Giselle by her friend Agnes whose husband died and the will got complicated when an illegitimate son showed up. Giselle said Monsieur Caumont was very correct but also understanding. Mind you, I think the fact that he had a twinkle in his eye and a sense of humour endeared him to her!’
‘Do we know why he wanted us to come over for the meeting?’
Jeannie shook her head. ‘No, but I suspect that French bureaucracy will need you to sign lots of pieces of paper so that he can close Granny’s estate and formalise the transfer of the cottage over to you.’
‘Is it far from here?’
‘Not far. Shall we cross over and indulge in some window shopping in the luxury shops before we turn into the labyrinth of streets behind the Croisette and find his office?’
