You Had Me at Chateau, page 11
Everything about this place makes me feel like I’ve walked into a dream. The combination of the elegant décor, the festive touches, the inviting warmth from the fireplaces, and the delicious smells wafting from the coffee bar – it’s all so perfect that I have to remind myself it’s real. And to think, I didn’t want to come here. Now that I’m here, I’m not sure I want to leave.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the shop and head over to grab a toothbrush first. This place is like a mini department store, with everything you could possibly need – so, really, when you think about it, I don’t actually need to leave. I mean, other than me not being able to afford a place like this if I weren’t filling someone else’s spot, I feel like I could be quite happy here.
I want to check out the souvenirs – because I’m a sucker for a good snow globe – but I should crack on with what I came here for. There will be plenty of time for shopping, and picking up some last-minute Christmas gifts before I head home.
I head to the toiletries section, scanning the shelves for toothbrushes. Wow, they’ve got everything, from hair dye to haemorrhoid cream, and everything for the bits in between. They’ve even got a massive make-up counter, and signs up saying there’s an on-site salon and spa. Really, truly, what else could I need from anywhere else? If it turns out there’s a McDonald’s, around the other side of the mountain, and assuming my family could visit, I really can’t think of what more I could want.
Here we are. Toothbrushes. As I stretch my arm out to grab one, another hand lunges for the same item. I look up, and lo and behold, it’s none other than Caleb. Okay, wow, this place really does have everything.
‘What are you doing here?’ I blurt out, genuinely surprised, trying to keep my potential morning breath to myself.
‘We arranged it,’ he says with a casual shrug. ‘Remember? You told me to meet you here…’
My jaw practically hits the floor.
‘I was being sarcastic!’ I reply. ‘I didn’t actually think you’d show up, especially not at such short notice – you told me this place was impossible to book in to.’
Caleb just chuckles.
‘I made a few calls,’ he tells me, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. ‘I thought I was going to have to find your château, to meet up with you, but here you are.’
I just stare at him for a moment.
‘Looks like you forgot your toothbrush too,’ he says through an amused grin.
‘Um, yeah,’ I reply, really, truly not knowing what else to say.
Caleb takes the toothbrush from my hand.
‘Let me get that for you,’ he insists.
‘Erm, I can buy my own toothbrush, thanks,’ I reply, teetering on the edge of snapping but managing to keep a lid on it.
Does he think I’m that hard up, that I can’t afford a toothbrush? Because, technically, this will be my second toothbrush, yep, two toothbrushes, I’m doing well, thanks.
Caleb laughs, as though he can tell that I’m ranting at myself, inside my brain.
‘I know, but humour me,’ he says, already heading for the checkout.
Curiosity getting the better of me – one of the curses of being a writer – I follow him, wondering why I would need to humour him.
At the counter, the cashier practically lights up at the sight of Caleb approaching him.
‘Hello, Monsieur Carney!’ he exclaims, swiftly taking the toothbrushes from him, placing them in a bag. ‘Do you need some toothpaste too?’
Caleb glances at me, and I realise I actually do need toothpaste. What a fantastic adult I am.
‘Yes,’ I practically confess.
‘Yes, please,’ Caleb tells the cashier, flashing a grin. ‘Or should I say “oui”?’
The cashier – who I’ve just noticed from his name badge is called Pascal – laughs. ‘Don’t worry, sir, all our staff speak perfect English,’ Pascal reassures him. ‘Many of our guests are from the UK and the USA.’
‘Good to know,’ Caleb replies, chuckling. ‘My French isn’t great. I was one of the kids in my school who chose to study German, instead of French.’
‘Oh, sprichst du Deutsch?’ Pascal replies.
‘I studied it, but I don’t remember a word of it,’ Caleb admits with a laugh.
‘That’s quite all right,’ Pascal says with a smile. ‘One moment, please.’
Pascal calls over another employee and says something to him in French.
I wonder if Caleb is well known here, in France, or if the staff have been told to expect him, because they know he’s a big deal in the UK. I guess a place like this could really benefit from his endorsement, especially if they have lots of guests from the UK.
‘Have you checked in yet?’ Pascal asks Caleb.
‘Nah, not yet, my bags are over there, in the lobby,’ he replies. ‘I thought I’d grab the essentials I forgot first.’
‘I’ll have someone come to check you in, and show you to your room,’ Pascal insists.
‘I’m in a chalet, I think it’s called Mon Chou?’ Caleb replies.
Pascal nods knowingly.
‘Ah, the honeymoon suite,’ he replies. ‘Here for a romantic getaway?’
‘Something like that,’ Caleb replies with a dorky chuckle.
The other employee returns with the toothpaste, only for Pascal to give him more instructions, again in French, before turning back to Caleb.
‘There’s no charge for these essentials,’ Pascal insists, handing the bag to Caleb.
Caleb just smiles sweetly.
‘Are you sure?’ he checks.
‘Absolutely,’ Pascal replies, before another thought seems to strike him. ‘Ah, one more thing…’
The other employee reappears, this time with two small hampers.
‘Your welcome baskets, for a romantic stay,’ Pascal explains, handing them over to Caleb. ‘On the house.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ Caleb says, looking genuinely pleased. ‘They look great.’
‘Just wait by your baggage, and we’ll send someone right over,’ Pascal instructs him.
Caleb looks at me and nods in the direction of his bags, indicating for me to follow him, so I do. And now it’s just the two of us again. Just me, him, and enough suitcases for a family of five. Wow, he does not pack light.
Caleb takes out one of the toothbrushes and shoves it in his pocket before handing the paper bag to me.
‘Here you go,’ he says. ‘You can have the toothpaste. And it looks like there is a his and hers basket, so you can take the hers, if you like.’
I can’t help but laugh.
‘Do people always just throw free stuff at you?’ I ask curiously.
‘Sometimes they just hand it to me instead,’ Caleb jokes, before turning serious. ‘Look, I think we might have got our wires crossed, and maybe me being here is a surprise. Why don’t you come and see me later when you’ve had time to think about it? I’m here, you’re here, I’ve got cases full of crap, and a big chunk of change that could be headed your way…’
Pursing my lips in thought, I consider his offer. He’s right. I am here, he’s here, and I could help him out. And the money would be good.
‘All right, sure,’ I reply. ‘Do you want to put your number in my phone? I’ll buzz you when I’m free.’
Caleb nods, taking my phone and punching in his digits.
‘I gave myself a missed call, so now I’ve got your number too,’ he replies. ‘Just in case you were planning on not calling and then hiding in the mountains to avoid me until I left.’
I laugh, shaking my head.
‘You know that this whole thing is so bizarre, right?’ I check.
‘Oh, yeah, definitely,’ Caleb agrees with a grin. ‘See you later.’
Completely weirded out (but still vaguely amused) by the whole situation, I take my things and head for the door. No, wait, screw it, I am going to get that coffee, and a pastry – I think I need it now.
I can’t believe Caleb bloody Carney has actually turned up here. I mean, to be fair to him, he did say that he was going to come, and I did tell him he could – but I was joking. But he’s here now, and the least I can do is hear him out. It might be the easiest money I’ve ever made – well, easier than writing a book, anyway.
Armed with my latte and my croissant, and with my dental essentials and my random hamper, I step outside. Oof, the cold air hits different now, after being in the cosy hotel for so long, but feeling the cold is way down the list. I feel bemused, surprised, and excited if I’m being honest.
This trip just keeps getting weirder and weirder. I’m almost terrified of what might happen next – but I’m excited too because, trust me, stuff like this doesn’t usually happen to me, and I doubt it ever will again. So maybe I will make the most of it. Let’s see what Caleb says later. I’ve got a breakfast to get to first – and one to eat before I get there.
17
As I push open the grand double doors of the château, I can’t help but admire how the morning sun warms up the tone of the creamy-coloured walls.
I just love that feeling of walking in and out through the doors, and the way the temperature shifts all of a sudden. When you walk in it’s like stepping into a big, warm hug – sort of like when you step off the plane when you fly to a hot country, and you step through the door and it instantly feels like you’re walking into a wall of heat. It’s just like that, except it smells delicious, and helps the feeling come back to your fingers.
I stroll through the fancy hallway, my footsteps echoing on the hard floor, letting my nose lead me in the direction of breakfast. Not that I don’t know where the dining room is, but if I didn’t the smell of freshly baked something would give it away. I can’t wait to find out what it is.
Walking into the dining room, I find Mandy, Bette, and Gina already parked at the long, elegant breakfast table. They’re surrounded by the breakfast buffet of my dreams – no wine this time, although I wouldn’t be shocked if I found out Bette’s coffee was Irish instead of French. Either they’ve hardly touched a thing, or I’ve arrived just in time, because everything is still picture-perfect.
It’s the fanciest continental breakfast spread I’ve ever seen. Usually I’m a scrambled-eggs kind of girl if I’m going for savoury, or American-style pancakes if I fancy something sweet. Silver trays are loaded with golden, flaky croissants, pain au chocolat, and other delicious-looking pastries that would serve as a delicious chaser to the one I ate on the walk here. Then there is the savoury stuff – meats, cheeses – and various jars with different spreads and conserves in. Back home I would laugh if anyone suggested I eat cheese for breakfast but here it just feels right. There is freshly baked bread, which must have been what I could smell walking in here, as well as a large glass bowl full of fresh fruits. Again, I’m not really one for fruit on a morning (unless it’s in a pancake or a Danish) but this looks too good to resist – I’m sure I’ll feel healthy when I eat it, even if it is part of my second breakfast.
My stomach growls as I look over it all, longingly, which only helps to conceal the fact I’ve already eaten.
A young woman in a crisp white uniform moves gracefully around the table, pouring coffee into dainty china cups. She looks up as I approach and flashes me a smile.
‘Good morning! Would you like a cup of coffee?’ she asks.
‘Yes, please,’ I say, smiling back. Even though I can still taste the coffee I just had, but you can never have too much coffee, can you?
This tips the ladies off to the fact that I’m here, so we all exchange polite good mornings.
Taking my seat at the table, as the waitress fills up my cup, I take a look around the dining room. The high ceilings are decked out with fancy mouldings, and huge windows draped with heavy ruby-red velvet curtains let in beams of morning sunlight that make the polished wood floor gleam. You couldn’t get away without dusting this room, that’s for sure. There’s a massive antique sideboard against one wall, piled high with even more dishes, ready to refill the table – although I suspect these are the ornamental plates, not the ones we use.
‘Amber, up and at ’em already?’ Mandy says, her voice as chipper as a salesperson on commission. ‘You look like you’ve been out in the cold. Are you having breakfast with us?’
‘I just popped to the resort shops for a few bits and bobs,’ I explain, trying to sound nonchalant. ‘And yes to breakfast.’
‘Goodness – you really were unprepared for this trip, weren’t you?’ she says, nodding towards my bag. Mandy’s tone drips with condescension, her words delivered in that patronising baby voice she seems to only use with me. ‘If we had known, we would’ve had a whip-round, wouldn’t we, ladies?’
It takes all my strength and focus not to roll my eyes at her, because you just know she’s trying to make me feel bad.
‘I was just spoiling myself,’ I insist, lifting my chin slightly.
‘The day I spoil myself with a toothbrush, shoot me,’ Mandy laughs, and the others join in. Everyone has to laugh at Mandy’s jokes, even when she isn’t funny, it turns out.
‘Actually, I bought myself a hamper,’ I lie smoothly, hoping to put a stop to her smugness.
‘Oh, what did you get?’ Gina asks, her curiosity piqued. ‘Let’s see.’
I know, I didn’t actually buy myself this hamper, but I’ll bet it’s full of fancy, luxury products, and when this lot see it, it’s going to wipe the smiles off their faces. They’ll never know I didn’t actually pay for them. I know, I shouldn’t have to resort to little scams like this to save face, but it will make the week go a lot faster. I need a little win, especially when it feels like it’s me vs. Mandy.
But just as I step closer to the table, placing the hamper down where everyone can see it, Mandy’s eyes zero in on me, her nose twitching like a bloodhound’s.
‘Amber, you’re… you’re covered in something. It looks like pastry flakes. Have you already eaten?’ she asks accusingly.
See, this is why I was worried, about having pre-breakfast breakfast, because Mandy clearly has a tone.
Ah, shit. I forgot to dust myself off after my croissant. Honestly, pastries, Greggs sausage rolls – it’s always the same deal. I always have to do that awkward dance to shake off the crumbs.
‘Oh, you know what, it was the weirdest thing,’ I start, hoping inspiration will strike. I am a storyteller, after all. ‘This bird flew over me, a big one, and it was carrying something in its mouth – it looked like a croissant – and it just sort of rained bits of pastry down above me, like snow. Wow, I thought I’d dodged it. Thanks for letting me know.’
I brush myself down, trying to look as dignified as possible, hoping that they believe my frankly ridiculous story. Mandy narrows her eyes, clearly unconvinced.
‘A bird?’ Mandy repeats in disbelief.
‘What sort of bird?’ Bette chimes in, her brow furrowed in confusion.
Honestly, I couldn’t even guess at what kind of birds they have here. We’re in the mountains, surrounded by snow. If we were in London, I’d say it was a pigeon and no one would bat an eye, because everyone knows pigeons have the audacity, but here… do they even have pigeons?
‘It was just so fast, I didn’t get a chance to see what kind of bird it was,’ I reply, hoping that will put an end to the interrogation.
‘And yet you saw what kind of pastry it was,’ Mandy points out, her tone as sharp and knowing as ever.
‘Well, it did land on me, it turns out,’ I say with a shrug, trying to sound casual.
I mean, it sort of did land on me, just, you know, in my mouth.
Mandy purses her lips but doesn’t press further. I can see the gears turning in her head, like she knows I’m lying, she just isn’t sure why.
‘Anyway, come on, show us this hamper,’ Gina says, leaning in with eager curiosity. ‘Get you, spoiling yourself.’
‘I know, it’s naughty of me, but sometimes you need little treats to make you feel good on the inside,’ I say, trying to sound like I do this sort of thing all the time, as I open the hamper.
I throw the lid back, and I can feel every pair of eyes in the room zeroing in on it.
‘Bloody hell, that will make you feel good on the inside,’ Gina says through a snort, clearly trying to suppress a laugh.
All I can do is stare at the contents. Right on top is a big purple dildo. And not just any dildo – it’s huge, and detailed, and flecked with sparkles for some reason. It’s giving Edward Cullen from Twilight… I’d imagine.
And that’s not all. There are random bottles of body oils, flavoured lubes, nipple tassels, and more types of condoms than I even knew existed before today.
I finally muster the strength to flip the lid shut, my cheeks burning. Bloody hell, France, is this what a romance kit includes here? What happened to a massage and a cuddle?
‘Okay, wow, I must have picked up the wrong hamper, or been given the wrong one because, yeah, no, that’s not what I wanted,’ I babble, hoping they believe me. It’s hard to sound like you’re telling the truth about one thing, when you’re lying about something else.
‘There’s no shame in it,’ Gina insists, patting my hand. ‘If you’ve read one of my books, you’ll know I’m all about the self-love.’
‘What did you think you were going to do with the condoms, alone?’ Mandy asks, eyes narrowing with faux innocence. ‘Unless… no! Is this all to woo Henri? Wow, you are taking this competition seriously.’
She lowers her voice as she says this. Even though there are no staff members currently in the room, she is in touch with reality enough to know that, to other people, there’s something very weird about her ‘race to shag the caretaker’ wager.
‘No, God, no, nothing like that, it was supposed to be bath stuff,’ I insist, trying to salvage what’s left of my dignity.
‘Oh, you can use those in the bath,’ Gina informs me earnestly.
I place the box on the floor – out of sight, out of mind – and take my seat. I pick up my coffee and take a big sip. Right now I wish mine was Irish, it might help me feel less mortified.
‘You’re a dark horse, aren’t you?’ Bette teases, waggling her eyebrows, refusing to let it go.
