Having the Frenchman's Baby

But a little while ago something of significance had transpired, though surely not the coup de foudre her grandfather had always warned her about.

“Love at first sight. When I was in Italy during the Second World War, that’s what Lucia and I experienced. Fortunately for me, she was the right kind of woman to marry.

“Your grandmother and I were completely happy together. I want that same happiness for you when you meet your beloved. You’ll know when it happens.”

Rachel scoffed at the romantic notion that such a thing could happen.

Still, she couldn’t ignore certain emotions Monsieur Chartier had evoked. When she’d opened her eyes and had seen him standing there eyeing her so…intimately, she’d felt an explosion inside her that had never happened to her before.

“Rachel? Are you still there?”

Her grandfather seemed to have recovered from his coughing episode.

“Where else would I be? I want to know what Dr Lloyd had to say today.”

“To quote him, I’m ‘coming along’.”

“That’s wonderful news. Now I can enjoy my business trip without worrying too much.”

“What I’d have given to come with you.”

“We’ll do it when you’re all better. But since you have to rest right now, I’ll think of something to make up for it.

“I’d bring you home a bottle of your favorite Châteauneuf du Pape, but with those blood clots in your lungs, I know alcohol is verboten, so I’ll bring you a box of chocolate truffles instead.”

“Always my thoughtful girl. How much longer will you be gone?”

“A week.”

Because of this detour to Thann she needed two. But considering he’d been in and out of hospital several times for pain and shortness of breath, she would have to take this a day at a time.

“Did you say hello to Vincent for me when you visited the Rolland vineyards in St Emilion?”

“Of course. He sent his regards and has extended you an invitation to visit as soon as you’re better.”

“That’s nice.”

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“His father also told me to say hello to you. He’s looking forward to another game of chess with you the next time you come.”

“He likes to win.”

Rachel chuckled. “I’m afraid chess isn’t my best suit either.”

“Where are yo—?” But before he could finish, another bout of coughing had started up.

“In Thann.” Anticipating his next question, she said, “I haven’t located Louis Delacroix yet, but I will. Right now you need to stop talking and drink some water. I’m going to say goodnight. I’ll call you tomorrow evening.”

“Bl-bless you, Rachel. GoodNIGHT.” The second part came out with another loud cough.

Supposedly the coughing meant he was getting rid of the dead cells off his lungs, which was a good thing.

She hung up, put the phone back in her purse and hurried down the hall, nodding to some of the guests coming up the stairs.

When she emerged from the lobby doors, she discovered Monsieur Chartier lounging against the body of the Wagoneer parked directly in front.

The sight of him pushed the worry over her grandfather to the back of her mind.