have one.’
‘I’d appreciate a coffee for sure, so long as I’m not intruding,’ Scott said, taking the suitcase from her. ‘Let me carry that.’
‘Thank you.’ Fern led the way into the auberge. ‘Just leave the suitcase in the kitchen and come on out to the terrace.’
‘Anouk, we have company for coffee,’ she said, wondering what Anouk would make of Scott. She was about to make the introductions when Scott moved across to Anouk as she politely started to stand up.
‘Madame LeRoy – it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Scott Kergoëts. Please don’t get up for me.’
‘American?’ Anouk asked, settling back down. ‘With a Breton surname?’
‘Guilty as charged.’
‘Maybe you’d like to talk amongst yourselves for a couple of moments while I fetch the coffee,’ Fern said, leaving them to it.
She stood by the kitchen window watching the two of them for a moment. Should she give him a room? Or send him to the auberge in the next village? She’d decide after coffee. And after asking him a couple of searching questions.
When she carried the coffee and the plate of biscuits out, she smothered a smile. Anouk was holding her own interrogation of Scott.
‘Your Breton ancestors came from Gourin then?’
‘They sure did, ma’am. All I heard growing up was how beautiful the old country was and how desperate things had been, forcing them to emigrate.’
Anouk nodded. ‘My father had two uncles who emigrated, looking for that better life.’
‘Did they find it?’ Scott asked gently.
‘For a while. Then the letters stopped coming during the Depression. It was sometime before he ’eard they’d both died during that terrible time in America.’ Anouk sighed as she accepted a coffee from Fern.
‘So you’re here researching your family history then?’ Fern asked, handing Scott a coffee. ‘Help yourself to biscuits.’
‘There was an album at home all the time I was growing up, full of faded photos and other mementos of the area. I’ve wanted to visit forever, but it’s taken until now to happen.’
‘D’you still have relatives over here?’ Fern asked. ‘If you do, surely you could stay with them?’
‘Sadly no.’
‘I went to school with a Marie-France Kergoëts,’ Anouk said thoughtfully. ‘I think she died last year. Married someone from Josselyn. Moved back this way when she was widowed. Maybe she was a relative?’
‘That’s interesting,’ Scott answered. ‘I’ll have to do some research. As far as I know, my last relative living in the Gourin area died a few years ago.’
Fern, watching Scott talk so easily to Anouk, couldn’t help but be drawn to the man. He was just so open and honest. She’d tell him he could have a room, she decided, as soon as she could get a word in edgewise between Anouk and him. And then Anouk paved the way.
‘Where are you staying?’ she asked.
‘Ah, well, at the moment nowhere. But I’d heard about this rather good auberge run by a certain lady and I was hoping she might have a space?’ he answered, looking at Fern.
Before Fern could say anything, Anouk answered him.
‘Yes she does, don’t you, Fern?’ Anouk leaned conspiratorially towards Scott. ‘Fern’s not doing evening meals for the other guests, so you’ll ’ave to join us for supper in the kitchen.’
‘That sounds wonderful,’ he said quietly back, looking at Fern questioningly.
Before she could react, Anouk went to stand up, and Scott was instantly on his feet to help and handed her stick to her.
‘Thank you. Please excuse me for five minutes,’ and Anouk turned to walk slowly into the house.
It was Scott who broke the silence that fell between them. ‘Do you have a room I can rent like Anouk says? Or would you rather send me away?’
‘How did you find me? You’re not going to turn out to be a stalker, are you?’ Fern said.
Scott grinned at her. ‘No way. You’d told me your name and the direction you lived in. And in the last Tourist Office I found, when I mentioned your name, the lady behind the desk knew you. Bingo – here I am.’ He looked at Fern for several seconds before he added, ‘I promise I’m not a stalker. I simply liked you when we met and wanted to see you again. Maybe make amends after I upset you with my offer of dinner. I’ll understand if you’d rather I didn’t stay here, but I hope you’ll allow me to buy you dinner one evening. Anouk too, she reminds me of my grandmother. Feisty, utterly incorrigible and so French.’
In spite of herself, Fern laughed. ‘That’s