The Secret French Recipes of Sophie Valroux - Samantha Verant Page 0,27

feel free to call me if you have any questions.”

“Merci,” I said. “And thank you for taking such great care of her.”

She shrugged. “I’m a doctor. It’s what I do.”

As Dr. Simone turned on her heel, Clothilde embraced me in a tight hug. “Oh lord, are you skinny, Sophie! About the same size as when I last saw you. I thought Americans ate big meals.”

“I guess I follow the French rules of portion control,” I said.

“Come with me. I’ll take you right to your grand-mère, ma petite puce.” I smiled. Clothilde had always called me her “little flea,” a term of endearment. She raced down the hall, her ladybug flats clacking on the tiled floor, speaking with breathless exuberance. “She’s so excited to see you, Sophie. You should have seen the smile light up her face when I told her you were coming.”

I couldn’t stop my words before they escaped my mouth. “That’s good. Because Rémi wasn’t so happy.”

Clothilde nudged me in the ribs. “Don’t mind him. He can be a surly one, that boy. He’s always working and a bit of a loner.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Not that I’m one for gossip, but I’ve heard all of the single girls in town and the next towns over are after him.”

“Why?” I asked, grimacing. “He’s a bit rude—”

“But very good-looking, très beau, indeed.” Clothilde giggled like a schoolgirl. “Let’s get you to your grand-mère. A little warning first—her speech is a bit slurred and she forgets a few things, but she snaps back.”

I stopped in my tracks. “Wait. What if her condition doesn’t improve?”

“Ma puce, don’t think about the what-ifs. They’ll frazzle your beautiful mind. Your grand-mère is a strong woman and she’ll be back to herself in no time.” She pinched my cheeks, like she’d done when I was a child sitting on my stool in the kitchen watching Grand-mère Odette cook.

My head dropped; I missed those days. I was petrified to see the state my grand-mère was in. My body shook and trembled. What if?

Clothilde placed a loving hand on my back. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I said.

When I opened the door to her room, my grandmother’s eyes brightened the instant she saw me. I exhaled a worried breath before regaining my composure. The pale green color of her eyes was the only recognizable thing about her. Where had the beautiful regal queen I’d held like a snapshot in my mind gone? Her gray hair was thinning, so fine I could see her scalp. She must have weighed less than a hundred pounds. She wasn’t a pillar of strength; she was weak. Pushing the guilt of not visiting sooner into the deepest corners of my mind, I forced a smile and sat on the side of her bed. I took her hand; it was cold and fragile, the skin almost like a thin sheet of paper, her grip weak. I needed to keep my surprise veiled. The last thing she’d want, and this I knew, was pity.

“Grand-mère, I just arrived this morning,” I said, worried about the pallor of her complexion as we exchanged les bises. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, ma chérie. Much, much better now that you’re here.” She broke into a wide grin, reminding me of the woman I remembered. Her speech was indeed a bit slurred, but I could understand her words as clear as a bell. “You came back to me, my darling, my beautiful Céleste, the light of my life. You’ve forgiven me.”

I shot Clothilde a panicked look. She shrugged and spread out her arms as if she didn’t know what to do. Clothilde whispered, “Memory loss and confusion are two of the symptoms we’re hoping will go away.”

I wondered why my mother would need to forgive my grandmother as I lightly squeezed her hands, trying my best to smile through the worried and gut-wrenching knot tying up my stomach. “Grand-mère, non. It’s not Céleste. It’s me, Sophie, your granddaughter. Céleste’s daughter.”

Her hands ran across my face and down my neck. She placed her palms on my chin lovingly. “Oh, yes, yes, ma chérie, how could I make such a mistake?” Her pale green eyes darkened with fear. “I’m sorry, my love, I’m not feeling like myself. Lately, I forget things—so many things. And then this happened. I really should have paid more attention to the warning signs.”

“There were warning signs?” I asked.

“Debilitating headaches, a bit of numbness in my arms, a bit of dizziness,” she said as if