A Paris Melody

A Drop Of Wine

"Just a bit further, little one," Madame Amelie sang out, her lilting and softly musical voice full of good cheer. "Le déjeuner attend!"

"Right," Jill agreed, struggling to keep up on the narrow mountain trail. She was a little short of breath and perspiring in the hot sun. "Lunch is waiting!"

The two women were making their way back up to the chateau after a busy morning in the village. Jill's piano playing had gone over well, she thought. But the rest of her plan had been a flop. A total flop! She'd got no leads on getting to Paris, and her arms ached from the weight of all the gifts she was carrying home. The pretty hand-carved shepherd girls weren't for her, of course. Madame Amelie sold the wooden figures in Paris to raise money for the village church, and for the medical needs of the elderly.

"Of course all that only amounts to a few francs, here and there," the silver-haired woman said, snapping her fingers as they crested the hill and reached the secluded chateau of Havre de Paix. "But Marc and I, we are rich. And we have many rich friends. We raise money for the village in many ways, both here and in Paris."

"Do you go to Paris often?" Jill had to get back to the big city. She had to find her uncle! All this healthy outdoor exercise was fine, but right now the sophisticated city girl was tired of walking. In fact she was really huffing and puffing! Her tired and tender feet were sore, and her long and shapely legs were like lead weights. Her muscles ached in places that had never ached before. The long walk to the village and back had nearly knocked Jill out, but Marc's perpetually perky great-aunt didn't seem tired at all!

"Of course we'll go to Paris! So many shops, so many exciting things to see and do!" The wise old woman smiled at the tall, slim, golden-haired young girl. "As soon as Marc decides it's safe."

"Yes, of course." Jill didn't plan to wait around for Marc to give her permission to go back to Paris. Not after last night! Her suspicions about the tough French cop had been growing ever since she heard the strange moaning and wailing that disturbed her sleep. There were other prisoners within the chateau, she could feel it! The high walls of the ancient French palace were like a prison. The splendor of her luxurious surroundings hid sinister secrets.

"Ah, quel plaisir! Bertha has prepared an outdoor lunch. Let's enjoy a drop of wine on the terrace, n'est-ce pas?" Madame Amelie clapped her hands, as excited as a little girl at a birthday party. The table on the terrace was full of fruit, fresh bread, cheese and wine. There was a soft breeze, plenty of shade and even a couple of long, deep-cushioned lounging chairs set up beneath the gently swaying sycamore trees.

"Are you and I the only people staying at the chateau? Besides the servants, I mean." Jill spread warm, lightly salted butter on a slice of soft French bread fresh from the oven. She didn't want to flee the chateau on an empty stomach. And she didn't want to run away blindly, without knowing who or what was hidden in the ancient walls and who might actually pursue her.

"Just you and I, my child." Madame Amelie was eating with a healthy appetite. The tiny old French woman was deeply wrinkled, yet she had the verve and imagination of a young girl. When Jill finished her meal and lifted her wine glass and asked a casual question about strange sounds and noises in the night she launched right into a ghost story.

"And so, the poor woman's spirit still walks the empty corridors at night, searching for her child and wailing for the lover she lost!"

"I think it was cruel of her husband to imprison her like that." Lunch was over, and Jill was lying in one of the lounging chairs with her shoes kicked off and a glass of wine in her hand, feeling both sleepy and slightly rebellious. She couldn't stop thinking about Marc's arrogant behavior, dragging her all the way down here and then simply abandoning her. Her uncle was in trouble and here she was, miles from Paris, relaxing in a secluded French chateau!

"Madame, a telephone call. From Paris!" Bertha the stout and solemn housekeeper had a rather anxious look on her round face. She plainly thought the long-distance call was important.

"I'll take it in the study." Marc's energetic great-aunt rose lightly to her feet, brushing imaginary crumbs from her lavender dress. "Will you be all right out here, my dear? I'll just be a moment!"

"Mm." Jill knew that it was probably Marc on the phone. Calling all the way from Paris to check up on her! But instead of jumping to her feet she simply closed her eyes and drained her glass, right down to the last defiant drop. Let Marc give orders over the phone. Let him think she was getting used to life at Havre de Paix. One day soon she'd escape, and teach the arrogant cop a lesson!