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Authors: Z.L. Arkadie
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leave a message, then I end the call. I suspect he’s trying to teach me a lesson on how it feels to be without him. I’m too frustrated to give Belmont’s games much thought. I place another call, and it’s answered on the second ring.
“ Ma fleur! ” Jacques sings.
“Hello, Papa, guess where I am?”
“I know where you are.”
“Guess how surprised I was to see a mansion—no, a castle—instead of a house.”
“Where are you?”
“France,” I say as if that’s obvious.
He chuckles. “I know you’re in France. I meant what part of the house are you in?”
“Oh, I just walked through the front door. First of all, is this place haunted?”
Jacques laughs. “Are you afraid of ghosts?”
“No, but these sorts of dwellings always have something supernatural lurking in the walls, through the quarters, and in the old cellar. I know—I do a lot of traveling. So it’s not a matter of me being afraid as much as a matter of me being on vacation and not wanting to deal with that right now.”
“Baby, there’s nothing lurking in the house. I promise you that,” he says. “But that hallway you’re standing in?”
“Yes?”
“Look straight ahead.”
I sigh impatiently and do as I’m told. “I see a wall.”
“It’s not a dead end. Go ahead and walk toward it.”
I roll my suitcase up the hallway. Without really paying attention, it’s tough to see an option to go left or right at the end of the hallway. On one side is a door marked “Studio.” It appears as if the room takes up the entire first floor. Of course Jacques would have a studio that big built into his chateau. I grin. That’s one thing I’ve always liked about my father; he’s mostly predictable. I see sunlight trapped in a room on the other side of the hallway.
The studio is to the left. “I should go right?” I say.
It takes Jacques a moment. “Yes, go right.”
I follow his direction.
“Do you see the patio?” he asks.
I feel relieved. “I see it.”
“That’ll lead to the back,” he says. “You’ll see tall hedges on the other side of the courtyard. There are three private cottages behind it, but Anton is living in one of them.”
“Whoa. You mean Anton, the driver?” I ask, surprised.
“He’s your cousin. You don’t remember Anton?”
“No! Why didn’t he say anything?”
The phone crackles.
“I have to go,” he says in a rush. “I had the south cottage prepared for you. Meals are in the main house, but Inés is supposed to bring you bread and cheese every morning. Love you, baby.”
“Okay. Love you too, Papa.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Call me if you need to.”
“I will.”
I walk through the garden patio, which has views of the valley, and through an alcove, which leads to the back of the house. The courtyard takes my breath away. There’s a long swimming pool in the center of a healthy lawn, which is surrounded by shrubs cut into boxes, circles, and upside-down and right-side-up triangles. White jasmine flowers have been planted all along the red-brick walkway. The sweet fragrance makes me feel as if I’ve bitten into a piece of heaven. I can see the brick-shingled rooftops and chimneys of the cottages, but just as my father said, a thick line of shrubs hides their walls.
I fight the urge to strip off my clothes and jump into the swimming pool. I still can’t believe Anton didn’t say, “Hey by the way, we’re cousins.” I finally remember him. His father is Jean Luc, Heloise’s younger brother. Anton and Daniel were better friends than he and I were. I remember his family visiting us in L.A. Heloise chastised Daniel and me for not welcoming our cousins and made us stay home to entertain them. I couldn’t wait until the entire family left. I also remember Anton thinking I was a boy, though I didn’t care to enlighten him. Back then, I thought the week they visited was the worst five days in my life.
I round the hedges and go up a cobblestone
“ Ma fleur! ” Jacques sings.
“Hello, Papa, guess where I am?”
“I know where you are.”
“Guess how surprised I was to see a mansion—no, a castle—instead of a house.”
“Where are you?”
“France,” I say as if that’s obvious.
He chuckles. “I know you’re in France. I meant what part of the house are you in?”
“Oh, I just walked through the front door. First of all, is this place haunted?”
Jacques laughs. “Are you afraid of ghosts?”
“No, but these sorts of dwellings always have something supernatural lurking in the walls, through the quarters, and in the old cellar. I know—I do a lot of traveling. So it’s not a matter of me being afraid as much as a matter of me being on vacation and not wanting to deal with that right now.”
“Baby, there’s nothing lurking in the house. I promise you that,” he says. “But that hallway you’re standing in?”
“Yes?”
“Look straight ahead.”
I sigh impatiently and do as I’m told. “I see a wall.”
“It’s not a dead end. Go ahead and walk toward it.”
I roll my suitcase up the hallway. Without really paying attention, it’s tough to see an option to go left or right at the end of the hallway. On one side is a door marked “Studio.” It appears as if the room takes up the entire first floor. Of course Jacques would have a studio that big built into his chateau. I grin. That’s one thing I’ve always liked about my father; he’s mostly predictable. I see sunlight trapped in a room on the other side of the hallway.
The studio is to the left. “I should go right?” I say.
It takes Jacques a moment. “Yes, go right.”
I follow his direction.
“Do you see the patio?” he asks.
I feel relieved. “I see it.”
“That’ll lead to the back,” he says. “You’ll see tall hedges on the other side of the courtyard. There are three private cottages behind it, but Anton is living in one of them.”
“Whoa. You mean Anton, the driver?” I ask, surprised.
“He’s your cousin. You don’t remember Anton?”
“No! Why didn’t he say anything?”
The phone crackles.
“I have to go,” he says in a rush. “I had the south cottage prepared for you. Meals are in the main house, but Inés is supposed to bring you bread and cheese every morning. Love you, baby.”
“Okay. Love you too, Papa.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Call me if you need to.”
“I will.”
I walk through the garden patio, which has views of the valley, and through an alcove, which leads to the back of the house. The courtyard takes my breath away. There’s a long swimming pool in the center of a healthy lawn, which is surrounded by shrubs cut into boxes, circles, and upside-down and right-side-up triangles. White jasmine flowers have been planted all along the red-brick walkway. The sweet fragrance makes me feel as if I’ve bitten into a piece of heaven. I can see the brick-shingled rooftops and chimneys of the cottages, but just as my father said, a thick line of shrubs hides their walls.
I fight the urge to strip off my clothes and jump into the swimming pool. I still can’t believe Anton didn’t say, “Hey by the way, we’re cousins.” I finally remember him. His father is Jean Luc, Heloise’s younger brother. Anton and Daniel were better friends than he and I were. I remember his family visiting us in L.A. Heloise chastised Daniel and me for not welcoming our cousins and made us stay home to entertain them. I couldn’t wait until the entire family left. I also remember Anton thinking I was a boy, though I didn’t care to enlighten him. Back then, I thought the week they visited was the worst five days in my life.
I round the hedges and go up a cobblestone
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