style="font-size:15px;"> “Hmm.”
“You don’t actually know who Rafaël is, do you, Miz Silk?”
I shook my head.
“He’s just the most famous TV chef around. He’s really, really big in Quebec, and now he’s got a new show on English television too. And a magazine. I think he’s going to be even bigger than Marietta.”
“Who is Marietta?”
“The woman he’s talking to. She’s big news. She’s got books and two shows. She’s on magazine covers and even business news. She’s what they call a brand. People call her Naughty Marietta, because she’s really sexy. I heard she was going to start a whole line of cooking equipment and food too.”
“A brand. Unbelievable.” I sighed. “Well, I’ve never heard of either of them.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Miz Silk, but who have yon heard of?”
Something told me that Homer (not Simpson), Shakespeare and Margaret Atwood weren’t going to cut it here.
“Pop culture isn’t my thing, Josey. What are they doing in St. Aubaine?”
“I’ve been trying to tell you, Miz Silk. It’s all about En feu! Hot Stuff! Rafaël’s going to be shooting a special here with Marietta. That’s going to be amazing. Even if his lordship did help to make it all happen.”
“Oh. Jean-Claude is behind this too?”
“He’s involved. Not the only person, though.”
“Isn’t it enough that he’s trying to redevelop the whole waterfront, stick up giant houses and condos and change the character of the village into something...?”
“Snooty patootie?” Josey suggested.
“Exactly. Anyway, when did we stop calling it ‘town’ and start calling it ‘the village’?”
Josey hesitated. “I don’t know. It just sort of snuck up on us, I guess. It sounds a bit trendier than ‘town’. I wouldn’t be surprised. Maybe Jean-Claude was behind that too. He called the new condo development Le Village au bord de la Rivière. That changed the whole look of the place. Did you know that now he’s teamed up with those people who bought the Wallingford Estate? They’re supposed to be turning it into a world class resort and spa.”
“I must have missed that.”
“But you keep to yourself, Miz Silk. The grand opening is going to be in a couple of weeks. They’re letting the production team use the site free, and they gave Marietta and Rafaël the really fancy rooms. They call them suites. It’s amazing PR. Then when the program airs, they’ll get exposure across the country. Everyone says Jean-Claude made the connection with the television producers and the new owners of the resort.”
I said, “Huh.”
“I’ve never been to a spa.”
“I haven’t either.”
“Not even when you were married to that lawyer?”
“Especially not then.”
Time to change the topic. “I guess I missed out on this news entirely. The Wallingford Estate was abandoned when I spent my summers here as a kid. It must have had the best river view in the whole village, from up there on that hill, but even then it was kind of creepy. I haven’t heard about the people who bought it.”
“You’re the only one, then. Her name is Anabel Huffington-Chabot. She’s very glamorous, used to be a model. You never met her?”
I shook my head. “Doesn’t mean a thing. I know Jean-Claude, and that’s enough to put me off the project.”
Josey turned toward the window and craned to watch as Rafaël crossed the road. An SUV squealed to a halt and the red-headed woman who’d dropped the wallet jumped out. She appeared to be accosting Rafaël. Marietta jumped back. I watched with my mouth open. A plump young man in skinny white jeans and a form-fitting T-shirt ran up to them and fluttered around waving a clipboard frenetically. I wasn’t sure that this was the perfect day to wear cowboy boots, but, as usual, what did I know?
“That’s her. The woman who dropped the wallet,” I said and started to get out of my seat. Before I’d left the booth, the conversation ended with much arm waving, and Rafaël headed off up the hill, holding on to Marietta’s hand. The red-headed woman hopped into her SUV and nearly flattened a few unwary pedestrians as she rocketed out of sight in the opposite direction. The young man in the cowboy boots stood watching with one hand over his mouth.
I noticed a few local women wandering after the famous pair, sort of like a crowd of possessed peasants in a cheesy horror movie.
I said, “Who was that again?”
Josey stared at me with pity. “It’s what I’ve been telling you about. He’s Rafaël. She’s Marietta. They will be doing a cooking show together. Sort of competition with each other over food. You know. That lady with the ketchup-coloured hair is the producer for the show they’re doing together. I forget her name, but I saw her picture in the paper, and she’s responsible for a lot of hit cooking shows.”
Hit cooking shows? My mind boggled. “How do you know these things, Josey?”
“It was on local TV and even in the St. Aubaine paper. You got to stay on top of things, Miz Silk.”
I dug into the poutine. I didn’t plan to stay on top of anything that had to do with Hot Stuff, Rafaël, Naughty Marietta, Anabel Huffington-Chabot (if that could possibly be someone’s name), Jean-Claude Lamontagne or anyone else connected with the whole ridiculous scene.
Hélène Lamontagne’s Sangria Blanca
Makes at least 12 servings
Marinating time: at 3 hours or longer
This is a special wine summer drink to serve for casual entertaining. Red wine can replace the white wine, but use colourful available fresh fruit such as oranges, red apples, berries or grapes.
3 cups chilled dry white wine (750 ml bottle)
½ cup (125 ml) Cointreau or brandy
2 to 3 tablespoons (25 to 45 ml) granulated sugar, or to taste
1 each lime and lemon, cut into thin slices, pits removed
1 peach, peeled and sliced
1 unpeeled green apple, cored, cut into thin slices
1 cup (250 ml) green grapes, halved and pitted
Ice cubes
1½ cups (375 ml) club soda
In
