an oxtail, cut in joints, in cold water for several hours.
“I’ve already done that.”
Wipe with a clean cloth, and brown in butter with four onions and three carrots, coarsely chopped. When the meat is brown add two crushed cloves of garlic. Cover for two minutes, then add five tablespoons of brandy. Light this and let it burn for a moment, then add one half bottle of dry white wine, and enough bouillon so that the meat bathes in the liquid. Add salt, pepper, a bouquet garni, and cook slowly for three hours with the cover on.
In a little while she had it cooking on the stove. Next task.
Saute in butter one half pound of mushrooms, a good handful of diced fat bacon and about one dozen small onions.
She’d do that after she made the lunches and delivered them.
Later on in the afternoon she checked the recipe for more instructions.
Add the meat to this and pour over all the liquid which has been strained and from which the fat has been removed. Cover and cook for one hour more in a slow oven. The meat should be soft and the sauce unctuous without recourse to thickening with flour.
During the hour it was cooking, she hurried up the stairs. A few of the crew waved to her, but no one wanted to talk. Her dad was somewhere around, but they didn’t bump into each other. That suited her just fine considering that Alex had put Saskia’s ski jump nose out of joint. No doubt she’d already reported to Dana’s father what she’d seen in the orchard and had distorted it further.
Eager to explore, Dana took one of the side staircases to the third floor and walked the length of the château to the turret round. When she opened the door, all she saw was a sea of boxes in the musty room. Dozens and dozens of them. None were marked. Whoever had packed things up hadn’t bothered to take the time to label anything. What a shame.
She tried opening a few, but she would need a knife or scissors to do the job. Some markers to identify what was in the boxes wouldn’t hurt, either. And she’d need a chair. And some rags to clean off the dust. Tomorrow when she came up, she’d be prepared.
Once she’d returned to her bedroom, she put a change of clothes and some nightwear in a large bag she’d bought yesterday. It could hold most anything and was a lot easier to carry than a suitcase. A few toiletries and the contents of her purse and she was ready to go.
Dana stood at the top of the staircase and waited until no one was in the foyer, then she descended quickly and darted to the kitchen. It smelled good in here if she said so herself. In fact, it smelled the way a proper French kitchen should.
Pleased with her efforts, she turned off the oven, took the pot out and set it on one of the burners of the stove. With everything in order, she went over to the table and pulled out her notepad.
Monsieur Martin— Better put that in case anyone came in here and read it. Your dinner is on top of the stove. All you have to do is heat it for a few minutes. Just so you know, I’ll be staying in Angers overnight, but I promise I’ll be back in the morning.
D.
She put the note on the counter by the sink where he always washed his hands. That way he’d be sure to see it. With that accomplished she slipped out through the pantry to the side entrance and walked around the front of the château to her car.
Some of the cast and crew were getting in their vehicles. They all said hello to each other before she drove off. If Alex could see her leaving from his high perch in a treetop, so much the better.
After the way she’d responded to him in the orchard, she didn’t want him thinking what he was entitled to think. Heat poured into her cheeks remembering how she’d practically devoured him. At eight o’clock in the morning no less!
Last night she’d practiced painful self-control and hadn’t joined him when he’d phoned her. Tonight she knew she’d cave if he so much as looked at her. The only wise thing to do was remove herself from temptation in the hope of gaining some perspective. Since meeting Alex, she had absolutely none.
Dana must have brought Alex his lunch while he’d been sawing and couldn’t see her. When he came down the ladder, there was the basket sitting on top of his truck. Though disappointed she hadn’t called to him, he found himself salivating for his meal.
Tonight he intended to take her out for dinner and dancing. She couldn’t plead fatigue two nights in a row! He needed her in his arms and wasn’t going to let anything stand in his way.
Making it an early night, he did his last haul at six and slipped into the side entrance of the château with his basket, eager to find her. When he walked through the pantry to the kitchen, something smelled wonderful. His gaze went to a covered pot on the stove.
He set the basket on the counter and drew a fork from the drawer. Dana had cooked something that smelled sensational. He lifted the cover, unable to resist putting one of the pieces of beef in his mouth. It was kind of fatty and mild, but the stock was rich. He needed a spoon for it.
As he reached for one he saw a piece of paper lying near the sink. The note was short and sweet. He let out a curse. Dana Lofgren—What are you trying to do to me?
Before he exploded, he needed to calm down. If she thought she was going to hide from him tonight, she could forget it. He’d find her at one of the hotels Paul had lined up for everyone. After her scare on the road the other night, she wouldn’t dare go anywhere else.
His eyes flew to the pot. Alex wasn’t about to eat the rest of it without her. Forget dinner and dancing! He made a place for the pot in the fridge and left the kitchen.
By the time he’d showered and changed, the château had emptied. He locked up and left for Angers, driving his truck over the speed limit. This time he wouldn’t forewarn her with a phone call. No more of that.
He stopped first at the Beau Rivage, but they had no listing for her. His frustration grew when the Chatelet could tell him nothing. By the time he approached the concierge at the Metropole, he was beginning to wonder if she’d checked in at another hotel altogether.
“Bonsoir, monsieur. My name is Monsieur Martin from the Belles Fleurs estate in Rablay.”
“Ah…it’s a pleasure to meet you. I understand the members of the Pyramid Film Company staying with us are shooting a film at your château.”
“That’s right, monsieur. It’s very important that I speak to Mademoiselle Brusse. I understand she’s in room 140.”
“Non, non. The beautiful actress was staying in room 122, but she’s no longer with us. Mademoiselle Lofgren, the director’s daughter, is occupying that room now.”
“You have no idea where Mademoiselle Brusse went?”
He leaned forward. In a low voice he said, “I believe with the director.”
It seemed he and Madame Fournier had a lot in common. “You’ve been very helpful. Merci, monsieur.”
“Pas de quoi.”
Now that Alex knew where his fetching cook would be spending the night, he left the hotel to do a few errands.
