The Secret French Recipes of Sophie Valroux - Samantha Verant Page 0,61
home. It finally feels like Christmas.”
She lifted her shoulders into a shrug. “The doctor didn’t want to release me, so I discharged myself,” said Grand-mère. “I couldn’t stand another moment in that dreadful room—especially during the holidays.” She clasped her hands together and straightened her posture. “Unfortunately, I have to deal with this Agnès creature.”
She pronounced Agnès like ahn-yes.
“Who?”
Grand-mère tilted her head toward the van and scowled. “My dreaded nurse.”
A heavyset woman wearing thick-soled white shoes and pale blue scrubs jumped out of the passenger seat with two male aides beside her. In a flash, she disappeared, rounding the corner of the van to the other side. She had rosy cheeks, and kind but nervous brown eyes. Her brown hair was falling out of its ponytail. She was frazzled, as I could only imagine. When she made her approach, Agnès spoke softly. “We tried our best to keep her in the hospital, but she insisted on coming home. Actually threatened on having the hospital closed down if we didn’t comply,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m Agnès, you must be Madame Valroux de la—”
“Please call me Sophie,” I said, thrusting out my hand.
Agnès blinked repeatedly as she took it. “The hospital is afraid of lawsuits and I’ve been given strict instructions to stay with her,” she said, the quivering in her voice making it clear she was petrified of losing her job.
“We’ll have a room made up for you,” I said.
“But I have to be with her 24/7,” she said, her voice catching. “Is there a possibility to have a cot? Or is there a couch?”
“She has a full suite. We’ll work something out,” I said. “Thank you for taking care of her.”
Rémi opened the front door to the château and swaggered over to us. After glowering at me, he embraced my grand-mère. “I was finishing up the Christmas lights on the top floor and saw the van pull up. I’m so glad you’re doing better and you’re home, Grand-mère.”
“My darling boy,” said Grand-mère with so much sweetness and love, I cringed. “It’s wonderful to be home. I’d like to speak with Sophie and then I’d like for you to visit with me, d’accord?” She lifted her head toward me. “Oh, ma chérie, can you take me up to my room? I’ve had enough with this Agnès creature. She’s very bossy. And she isn’t family.”
Agnès blinked again and said, “Actually, Sophie, if you could take her up, that would be great. And, Rémi, if somebody could help us with all this equipment, I’d appreciate it.” She motioned to the machines and monitors and drips filling the inside cabin of the van.
“Did you bring the entire hospital here?” asked Rémi.
“Just what’s needed for her care.”
“Sophie,” said Grand-mère impatiently. “I’d like to be in the comfort of my room.”
“Yes, Grand-mère,” I said, gripping the handles of her wheelchair.
As I wheeled her up the ramp, Grand-mère asked, “Ma chérie, what in the world is going on between you and Rémi?”
“Rémi? There’s absolutely nothing going on,” I said, thinking, aside from the fact that he hated my guts.
“Ah bon, I see,” she said, her voice a question. “Sophie, he’s a good man, a bit rough around the edges and a bit of a loner, but a good man nonetheless. I think of him like a son.”
“But he isn’t family,” I said. “He just works here.”
“Everybody under my roof is family to me—especially Rémi,” she said. “His whole world changed when his parents died in that horrible car accident. He had nowhere to go, and I took charge of him.”
I froze midstep, almost launching my grandmother out of her chair. “What? When did this happen?”
“The fall after your last trip to Champvert.”
No wonder Rémi hated my guts. I’d just left him in Champvert after promising I’d come back. “You never told me this? I mean, I’m thinking it’s pretty important.”
“I told your mother to tell you. She said the farm boy from next door was of no interest to you. She was livid I’d taken Rémi in and was more concerned with her inheritance. It was on this call when she told me you never wanted to see me again.”
“She lied,” I said. “I wanted to spend my summers with you more than anything.”
“I know, ma chérie,” she said. “But I don’t want to talk about Céleste. The subject upsets me,” she said, her voice shaky. “Tell me, what have you planned for the celebration?”
I swallowed back the information I’d just learned and told her about