The Secret French Recipes of Sophie Valroux - Samantha Verant Page 0,28

it was no big deal. “I really should have gotten myself to the doctor sooner, but we’ve been terribly busy at the château. I figured my problems came from stress, that the feelings would pass.”

No wonder we had lost touch. We were both consumed with work.

“You have to take care of yourself,” said Clothilde, and I agreed.

“Ah bon, I know,” said Grand-mère Odette before returning her attention to me. “You are the spitting image of your mother, my darling. Les chiens ne font pas des chats.”

“Dogs don’t make cats” was a French expression that was similar in meaning to “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” It always made me smile. Through the window curtains, sunlight poured into the room, illuminating my grand-mère’s weakened state, although she appeared brighter, almost glowing. I leaned forward, clasping my hand around hers.

“That’s an interesting piece of jewelry,” said Grand-mère, eyeing the ring hanging off my necklace. “Quite beautiful.”

“It was my mother’s,” I said, shifting uncomfortably. I cleared my throat. “I brought some of her things with me. Maybe when you’re better, we can go through them together?”

“I see,” said my grandmother pointedly. She then changed the subject, clearly not wanting to talk about my mom. “When did you arrive?”

“Today. For you.”

“That fancy New York restaurant of yours gave you time off?” Her eyes widened a bit, but she didn’t seem all that surprised.

“You could say that,” I mumbled. “It’s kind of a forever time off.”

“What did you say? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” I forced another smile. “I’m happy the doctor says you’re on the mend.”

“How long are you here for?” she asked.

“For as long as I’m needed.”

“Well, that would be for eternity. When you’re not by my side, my heart crumbles.” She smiled and struggled to sit up, but couldn’t. “And, now that you’re here, you can get me out of this damn hospital. On y va.” (Let’s go.) “Right now.”

I was pleased to see my grandmother’s spirit was strong, but her leaving the hospital wasn’t going to happen. I’d never seen my strong, bullheaded grandmother look so fragile. “The doctor said she has to monitor you a little longer,” I said, and Clothilde nodded her head with enthusiastic agreement.

“Bah, je suis pleine de vitalité. Regardez-moi,” said Grand-mère Odette.

I was looking at her and she wasn’t exactly full of vitality—in fact, far from it. Her hands shook like a blender on the verge of exploding. Her speech was slurred—not to mention the mistake she’d made when she mistook me for my mother. My dead mother.

“I’m sure you’ll be home soon,” I said. “But right now it’s important for you to get better. Doctor’s orders.”

“Mais, we have a houseful of guests arriving tonight. There’s much to do—”

“Don’t worry, Odette,” said Clothilde, rushing over to grab her hand. “Sophie, the rest of the staff, and I will take care of everything, won’t we, dear? You’ll help manage the kitchen.”

My eyes went wide. I sucked in my breath, willing the impending panic attack to settle down. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to walk into a kitchen again. And now I was supposed to manage a kitchen I wasn’t familiar with?

“Without me, I’m sure the château needs management,” said my grand-mère. “I’ve been doing my best while being cooped up in this horrible room, but I can only do so much. Sophie, I’m counting on you. Can I?”

There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but, a bit shell-shocked, I didn’t want to sound accusatory, and panic sparked Grand-mère Odette’s eyes.

“How many people does the restaurant seat?” I asked.

“Forty,” answered my grandmother. “Can you handle forty covers?”

“Er, yes, definitely,” I said, feeling the need to give her reassurance.

“Bon.” Grand-mère Odette pulled out a notebook and flipped through it before locking me in her gaze. “For tonight’s special, I was planning on making a daube de biche for the guests. Do you know how to make a daube? Or do you just make fancy seafood dishes with strange foams?” I didn’t answer right away, so Grand-mère Odette patted my hand and continued with a heavy sigh. “You are my granddaughter and I have faith in you, my dear. It’s almost eleven. The two of you better be going, as the guests are set to check in at four. Dinner is set for seven thirty p.m. sharp.”

“But I just got here. I want to spend time with you,” I said. I meant it, but I also wanted to procrastinate getting back