Provence - to Die for
“M. Telloir had declined a cup of coffee and a slice of Mme Roulandet’s cake; he was impatient to start out. It was a chilly morning, but high, wispy clouds promised a sunny day. Dressed in a warm sweater, long woolen skirt, and low-heeled shoes, I locked the door to the farmhouse behind me. I’d decided not to invite Mallory to join us—she seemed perfectly content with that—and had left her sleeping in Martine’s bed. It was going to be hard enough to find Daniel and get him aside for a private c...onversation without the added worry of keeping an eye on a teenager.
On reflection, it seemed silly to worry about a girl who’d been traveling around France on her own for months. But now that she was, nominally at least, under my care, I felt I owed her parents the courtesy of keeping track of her. I was eager to speak with them when they called, and contemplated calling them myself if I could figure a way to pry their number out of Mallory without her getting upset and leaving in a huff.MoreLess
On reflection, it seemed silly to worry about a girl who’d been traveling around France on her own for months. But now that she was, nominally at least, under my care, I felt I owed her parents the courtesy of keeping track of her. I was eager to speak with them when they called, and contemplated calling them myself if I could figure a way to pry their number out of Mallory without her getting upset and leaving in a huff.MoreLess
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