The Secret French Recipes of Sophie Valroux - Samantha Verant Page 0,110
with me, telling me not to be sad, but to focus on the beauty.
When Father Toussaint finished delivering his sermon, Rémi and I walked up to Grand-mère’s gilded casket, polished wood with carvings of flowers, to say our final goodbyes. Her face was still and peaceful, beautiful even though ravaged by the effects of time.
“I’m going to miss you fiercely,” I said, stroking her hand. “I wish we’d spent more time together, but I’m thankful for the time we had.”
Rémi put his arm around me. “Don’t worry, Grand-mère Odette, I’ll look after Sophie and take care of her for the rest of my life.”
I nudged him softly and whispered, “Who says I need to be taken care of?”
“You are definitely your grand-mère’s petite-fille,” he said. “And she made me promise her that.”
We each grabbed a single red rose from a basket and tossed it into her casket, me thinking about the lessons Grand-mère taught and would keep teaching me. When I opened my eyes, a flash of blue caught my attention: a dragonfly the size of my palm, flittering his wings just over her casket. He landed on my arm, but flew away so quickly, I’d thought I’d imagined it. Rémi latched his arm onto mine and we walked across the grounds to the château.
“Did you see that?” I asked Rémi. “The dragonfly?”
“I did,” he said. “I read somewhere once that if a dragonfly lands on you, a good change is coming.”
“I’d like to believe that,” I said.
He blew out the air between his lips and winked. “Then believe it.”
* * *
IN FRANCE—AND it didn’t matter if there were ten guests or two hundred—as a matter of la politesse, people milled about waiting for all the guests to arrive, eyeing drinks and food ravenously. I nodded to the servers carrying trays of coupe de champagne glasses filled with the château’s sparkling wine—la méthode ancestrale—and they distributed them. I tapped my glass with a spoon.
Once I had everybody’s attention, I spoke. “Thank you all so much for joining us on what is supposed to be a sad day. But if any of you knew Grand-mère Odette, I’m sure you’d agree she’d be extremely angry if we moped about and cried. My grand-mère, my fierce and strong grandmother, would want us to celebrate her life.”
“Hear, hear!”
“Grand-mère loved to entertain, and it was through food that she expressed her love. From the time I was very young, she instilled this love of cooking into me. And I’m eternally grateful for her lessons. She was a Grand Chef, the grande dame of this château, and an even better grandmother. She didn’t let titles or money affect her friendships. She opened the doors of this château to everyone. So in honor of my grandmother, I’d like to carry on that tradition. We’ve re-created many of the recipes she’s served us throughout the years. The buffet is open. Please join me in celebrating my grandmother’s life.” I raised my glass. “To Grand-mère Odette, may she soar among the wild butterflies and dragonflies.”
A few guests burst into tears; I stood strong, feeling my grand-mère’s strength fill me. I met the eyes of my family, my gaze shooting from Clothilde and Bernard, to Gustave and the granny brigade, to Laetitia and Lola, finally settling on Jane and then Phillipa. Love vibrated from every corner of the room, pulsing in waves. I fingered the necklace Rémi had given me for my birthday, thanking each and every one of my lucky stars.
Once the applause died down, I took in a deep breath. Rémi pulled me to the side, away from the others. “I thought we’d end today with something special. Can you come with me?”
I nodded, wondering what he was up to. He led me out the front door and stood quietly for a moment, head down. From his pocket, he pulled out my grandmother’s engagement ring; it sparkled in the sunlight like a beacon. “You had the ring? I’ve been looking everywhere for it.”
“Grand-mère Odette wanted me to give you this,” he said. “Under one condition, though.”
“Condition?”
He dropped to one knee and smiled his fantastic, dimpled smile that made my knees turn to butter. “I know we’ve been moving at the speed of light, and you wanted to take things slow, but when you know you’re in love, you know. I’ve loved you from the first moment I laid eyes on you when I was only nine years old. And I never stopped loving you. Sophie Valroux de la