Skinner: Finding Solid Ground

(Direct sequel to Skinner: Cold Reality)

By Atonia Walpole

Part 1:

“Why didn’t you come out and see him, Connie? He’s dreamy.”

“What?” Constance Duncan-Smythe turned her dark head and looked at her sister.

“The nephew that’s over at La Siroque. He is a dream and he’s not married!”

“Good for him.” Connie turned back to her books.

“You’re never going to meet anybody, stuck in his house all the time. You don’t even go into town.”

“I go into the villages all the time, Pen. I’m not looking to meet anybody…been there done that.”

“He’s not going to sell La Siroque. He’s going to live there.”

Connie was unconcerned.

“His name is Max Skinner. You should have knocked on the door when you delivered the basket.”

“Why? It was just a little welcome basket, something Dad dreamed up. I’m never going to finish these figures with you standing there talking to me.” Connie’s hazel eyes looked pointedly over her reading glasses at her little sister.

“Dad thinks he’s about forty years old or so, just right for you.”

“Penelope Duncan, GO!”

Penny grinned and ran out of her sister’s study.

Max slowly drove through Bonnieux looking for the café Aubrey mentioned, La Petit Lapin. He finally found a place to park, got out in a likely area and asked a shop owner. He was directed up a narrow cobbled street where he spotted the little tables and chairs set about an open café. He saw Duflot sitting with a few other men, drinking and smoking cigars. He was so happy to see him he wanted to run up and hug him but he adopted a conservative attitude.

“Duflot?”

Francis Duflot looked up and stared a moment. “Max.” He stood up knocking his chair over, bent to pick it up and walked over. “So you’ve come back, after all.”

“Yes, got back yesterday. Sad news about Henry.”

“He was a good man. I heard you were back this morning but I didn’t think to see you.”

“I didn’t think to see you, either, when I saw the house closed up.”

“Well, we didn’t know what would happen when Duncan buys the estate.”

“He’s not buying the estate, Duflot. I’m planning to live there. I’m not selling it.”

“Ah, this is good news, yes, very good news.”

“I went to see Mr. Duncan today about the harvest. I had no idea Uncle Henry was considering a sale.”

“If you had come to see him you would have known. He was in bad health, Max, very bad.”

“I regret that I didn’t take the time to visit. I had no idea he was so ill.”

“Yes…well, you are staying there now?”

“I am. Um, I wonder if you and Mme. Duflot would consider returning to the farmhouse?”

“Oh, ho, ho! Max, you don’t know how good that sounds to my ears! I will go and tell her now and we will be returning and resuming our work. Yes, Max, you bring good news today.” Duflot engulfed Max in a bear hug and patted him on the back.

Max returned to La Siroque feeling much better than when he’d left that morning. Finding Duflot had taken a lot off his shoulders.  He sat down at his desk and sent an email to Terry to let him know where he was and that things were looking up.

Yes things were certainly looking up. He had someone to harvest his grapes and make his wine. What had he said...five years or so Aubrey had been harvesting for Uncle Henry?  He wondered a little about Aubrey Duncan. He’d been so confident he was going to purchase La Siroque. What had his Uncle promised him, if anything?  He seemed a nice enough bloke to Max but still he warranted keeping an eye on. Max rarely trusted anyone.

Max was awakened the next morning by a strange sound. He lay in bed for a moment waiting to hear it again. Purk, purk, purk…what the devil?

It was a chicken in his bedroom. He jumped up on his bed, watching the creature as it walked around unconcerned. “Get out, get out of my bedroom!” he yelled at the chicken who only purk, purk, purked back at him. He tossed a pillow at it and it went squawking into the hallway. “Chickens in the house!” He rubbed his eyes. Something had to be done about the chateau. He padded to the bathroom and then downstairs. The chicken had made it to the living room and he rushed over to the door and opened it. “Get out of my house!” he yelled at the chicken, running behind it as it squawked to the open door.

He looked up to see a very astonished-looking woman on a bicycle with a basket.

“Oh…sorry…chicken,” he offered a crooked grin.

“Chicken? Is it a pet?”

“Um, no, no. I don’t know how it got in,” he stared at her and smiled. “I’m Max.”

“I thought you might be. I’m Connie Duncan-Smythe. I’ve brought you some croissants.”

“Croissants? You brought them yesterday?”

“Yes, well, we have a cook who makes them daily and since you’re on your own here my father thought it would be nice to share.”

“That was…a very nice thought to have. Would you like to come in…coffee…tea?”

“Thanks, but no. I’m on my bike ride.”

Max walked over to her bike and took the basket. “Thank you.”

 He met her eyes only for a moment. She looked down and turned her handlebars. “Enjoy, Max. Bye.” She peddled off down the road. Max watched her until she was out of sight then peeked in the basket, another pot of jam and two croissants. And Connie Duncan-Smythe.

Max went back inside and closed the door. He put the kettle on to boil and spooned coffee into the press. Connie was the other daughter Aubrey spoke of and she was divorced. He poured the boiling water in, taking the pot and the basket outside to enjoy his breakfast.

Connie peddled her bike along the road to the crossroads and turned back. So that was Max in his pajamas. She really didn’t want to think about Max in his pajamas. She’d sworn off men after her divorce. She’d found this lovely place a quiet haven and keeping books for her father gave her employment. She was happy and healthy and whole again. She didn’t need Max in his pajamas. She peddled faster past the entrance to La Siroque.

Max spent the morning trying to block chicken entrances. Shutters were hanging at odd angles and the rabbit warrens of rooms attached to the main house were a disaster. How had his uncle allowed it to get into such disrepair? He went out into the garage, found some tools and fixed the shutters, closing them tight against chickens.

That afternoon found him in the study again, translating papers. He made a face. Here was the information about Duflot, if he’d only read through them. Duflot was to remain with the property and that suited Max. He poured himself a brandy and turned on his lap top. He had a reply from Terry.

Good to hear things are working out for you, Max. Everything is good here in Virginia. Dino is in Miami. I heard from John. Donna is pregnant. Guess that’s proof enough he’s out. Toni showed me the pictures she took of the chateau. Looking forward to seeing it someday. Terry.

So she’d told him about coming to France with him. Well, that was good. He’d like to have them over once he got the place cleaned up.

Come in the spring, I should have the place spruced up by then. Send me John’s email address, he sent back to Terry.

Max was glad Terry was talking to him. He’d always been open and accommodating where Toni was concerned but he had noticed a certain protectiveness about him the last morning they’d spent at the House when he’d found out Max had stayed with Toni throughout his ordeal. He’d been grateful but Max caught it and he, of course, had been right. Max didn’t trust himself. Why should Terry? 

Part 2:

A few days later Max was sitting at the metal table outside in his courtyard when he heard the groan of a motor and stood up, peering down the drive. An ancient truck over laden with Duflot’s household goods ground its way up the drive and turned down the narrow dirt road that would take it to the farmhouse. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Shortly Mme. Duflot was coming around the house, arms outstretched. “Max, Ooooh Max!” She grabbed him around the shoulders for a good hug and stood back, looking at him. “You look well, Max, and I am so happy you are here.”

“I’m happy to see you, too.” He smiled a broad smile. She had not changed a bit from what he remembered.

“Tomorrow I will come and cook for you and clean for you, yes?”

“Yes, please. I’m afraid it’s all a bit of a toss-up right now.”

“I will put it to rights. Ah, Max, you look good.” She pinched his cheek and sauntered off through the house to have a look at his toss-up.

The Duflot’s were not exactly family but he had known Francis Duflot for probably three decades and there was a kind of friendship there, although neither completely trusted the other. Max went back to the stack of account books on the table. He’d been trying to put them in some sort of order to find out exactly what the estate was producing. It amused him that his Uncle had no order to his bookkeeping, all different sized account books, some thick some thin. He remembered in his movie about the garage wine and paid particular attention to see if that bit might be true but he’d found no evidence of it.

He was down in the cellar the next day examining the bottled wine stored there when Ludivine called down to him that he had a visitor. Max dusted himself off and went to see who it was.

“Hi, Max." It was Penny from Chambord. “I’ve come to invite you to share a bottle of wine with my father. This afternoon at four, if that will be okay with you?”

“Oh, well, yes, thanks. Tell your father I will be there,” he called as she turned her motor bike around and sped off.  He supposed there were advantages to not having a house phone.

Aubrey Duncan was explaining the complexities of the wine they were about to taste. Max listened but it made no impression on him. Wine was either good or bad. He was not an expert. He was actually more interested in Connie, who had been persuaded to join them on the terrace. As he looked from one sister to the other he could see a resemblance, although their coloring was a little different. Connie, he noticed, looked everywhere but at him and he smiled to himself, taking the glass Aubrey had filled.

“I don’t believe you’ve met my eldest daughter, Connie.” Aubrey poured out wine in her glass.

“Actually I have. Rather embarrassing situation with a chicken.” He glanced at Connie, who was concentrating on her glass of wine.

“A chicken? You didn’t tell me you’d met.” He looked at Connie

“Was I supposed to?” she asked. “I took the basket of croissants over and he had a chicken in the house.”

Aubrey smiled a little smile at his daughter. “In the house?”

“I’m not sure how it got in but there it was in my bedroom. I’d managed to get it to the front door when she arrived,” Max explained.

Aubrey laughed, “Well these old buildings have their own quirks. I’ve given up on lizards. We co-exist in peace.”

“But not with scorpions. I hate scorpions.” Penny sipped her wine.

“Lavender,” Max offered, “lavender will repel them. We keep it in all the rooms.”

“Thanks, Max, I’ll remember that,” Penny beamed at him.

“What do you think of it?” Aubrey asked, taking up his glass of wine.

“The wine? It’s very good.” Actually it was and he was enjoying it.

“That, Max, is what a careful blending of your grapes and mine will produce.”

“Really? I must tell you, Aubrey, I know next to nothing about making wine. Everything I was taught about it in my youth has gone by the wayside. I went a different direction after university.”

“What direction did you travel, Max?” Aubrey narrowed his brown eyes.

“Banking. I was a trader in London.” Max took a drink of the excellent wine, wondering if he’d blundered. He was expecting to be asked what firm he’d worked for.

“Trading stocks and bonds? I’ve never quite understood that but I understand it’s quite profitable and no doubt you’ve done well.”

“Yes, quite well, thank you.”

“Well, I’m a winemaker, have been all my life. My family owns a large vineyard in Napa. I’m the youngest of two brothers and so I came here one year with my wife on a wine tasting tour and fell in love with the place. We talked about buying a place out here but then she died rather unexpectedly and I spent a few years wandering about until I came back over here for a few days and ended up owner of this estate. Penny here finished up her college education and followed me over. Connie came to her senses and joined us a couple of years ago.”

“I spent all my holidays here with my uncle. I was in school in England from the time I was nine.”

“Boarding school we call them. I’ve never understood the English for wanting to send their children off to school.”

“In my case it was a blessing of sorts. My home life was not the best. If it hadn’t been for my Uncle Henry I think I would have been a very unhappy lad.”

“Well, let’s drink to happy futures, eh, Max?” Aubrey smiled and regarded Max over his glass.

“I’ll drink to that," Max smiled a guileless smile.

Penny had been watching Max and although she knew he was slated for her sister she thought he was absolutely lovely. She loved his accent and the cute smile he had. She felt like kicking Connie under the table. Probably her mind was off adding up figures. She’d hardly looked at him.

Connie was, in fact, very aware of Max. He was seated to her right and her eyes had taken in his hands on the table, the way he held a wine glass, how he wore his watch over his wrist, how far up his shirt sleeves were rolled and the light springy hair on his forearms. She knew a lot more about what was underneath that shirt than she wanted to think about. Every once in awhile she caught his scent, masculine and mysterious. Her mind was off on these trails when suddenly her father was standing up and he and Penny disappeared into the house.

Max tilted his head toward Connie. “What do you do here?”

“Keep my father’s books.”

“I’ve been trying to sort out Henry’s books, very simplistic sort of bookkeeping but scattered about in an array of different binders, some undated.”

Connie smiled, “Rather a chore for you. I would imagine you’re used to spreadsheets.”

“I was, yes.” Max noticed how the sun caught the highlights in her hair, red and gold amongst the dark brown waves that fell on her shoulders. “What do you do when you aren’t working?”

Connie looked up quickly, catching the blue green of his eyes. “Not much of anything. I read, work in my herb garden.”

“I’ve been away for years and forgotten how beautiful it is here. I wonder if you’d mind giving me a tour of the area, when you have time of course. I’ve found Uncle Henry’s Harley in the garage and I thought it might be a good way of getting around since the streets are often cobbled and so narrow you can’t drive through them.”

Connie took a breath. She didn’t really want…”Max, thanks for asking but I really don’t want to get involved with you.”

“I wasn’t asking for involvement, only a tour guide. I am a gentleman.”

“I’m sure you are.” He had the most beguiling smile. “I’m not sure I’d be that informative about the area.”

“I’ve got a tourist map…please?” He pulled out all the stops, biting his lip and looking up at her.

She couldn’t resist him. “Okay, I don’t work on Mondays.”

“Excellent. I’ll pick you up around ten.”

As if on cue Aubrey and Penny came back outside with another bottle of wine, Aubrey smiling, looking from one to the other as he opened the bottle.

Part 3:

Max spent some time working on the bike, cleaning it up, filling it with petrol, checking the tires and taking it out for a run. He’d had a bike when he was at university. It had been for the sole purpose of taking girls out for rides in the countryside. He’d spent his youth drinking and shagging and it was only his intelligence that got him out of the university for he rarely ever studied. Then came boring years of learning his trade and working his way up the ladder that ended at M&S.  These were the memories he had. Were they real? He had no way of knowing.

The competitive side of him had taken over and ruthlessly drove him forward. He’d become hard and cold but his charm laid a veneer over these faults.  At least that had been the Max Skinner he knew before he ever went to the House of Four Seasons. Toni had dug deep and found him and now he had surfaced in Provence, ready for life.

Monday morning found him wrapped in his uncle’s robe, almost afraid of what he was about to do. He wished Toni were here to reassure him and tell him he was twelve today. He didn’t feel twelve; he felt about six. He didn’t count his movie as anything real. Nothing he’d experience there had any bearing on his life now. Fanny hadn’t been real at all, but Toni had been.

He took his shower and fooled around in the bedroom, finally convincing himself he was being a bloody pillock about the whole thing and got himself dressed and out the door. He rode up onto the cobbled courtyard at Chambord, took a breath and passed through the narrow opening in the stone wall, relieved to see Connie sitting out at a table waiting for him.

“G’morning,” he smiled.

“Good morning to you, too. I’m ready when you are.” Connie stood up, wearing a pair of tight jeans and a white pullover sweater. She had her hair pulled back in a clip at the base of her head and a pair of sunglasses in her hand. She may have looked cool and put together but she felt far from it. This was the first time she’d gone anywhere with a man since her divorce.

Connie climbed on back of the big bike and looked around for the grabs on the seat to hold onto. Max settled in front of her and they were off. Max had a brief flashback, riding the bike at the House with Toni behind him. She’d held him tightly around his waist with her head on his back, the day they’d made love in the stream.  Help me, Toni, he said in his mind and an answer came to him. You can do anything; you are loved.  He caught his breath. Had that come from her?

He stopped at the crossroads, pulling out the map. “I need some help here, Connie.”

Connie looked around him at the map. “Let’s start there at Lacoste.”

Max slowed the bike. “Marquis de Sade, shall we see if he’s home?”

“I don’t think I want to visit him, thank you, but a drink at that café might be okay.”

Max ordered them both lemonade and he looked through the tourist map. “We should have made a plan, I suppose.”

“I don’t really like plans, you know. Sometimes you find the perfect place without looking so hard for it.”

Max liked that. “As long as you don’t get us lost, I shall put away the map.”

“I might. I’m not that familiar with this area.”

“I’ll trust you…I don’t often do that…trust.”

“Neither do I. Where did you live in London?”

“Knightsbridge. I still have a flat there.”

“I once lived in Camden in another life.”

“Did you? Strange that we’d both end up here in Bonnieux.”

“I suppose it is. It never occurred to me that I would live in France some day. But I like it. I think two years is long enough to come to that conclusion.”

“My uncle lived here for forty-odd years but he still loved England.”

“And you, Max, do you still love it?”

“I’m not sure love is the right word but it will always be a part of me.”

“Is there no one special in your life, Max?” She had to ask it, had to know because she was beginning to like him very much.

“Special? Well, I would have to say yes but she’s married to my brother and no longer ‘in my life’ as far as dating anyone, no.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

Max thought he’d put his foot in it. Of course his Uncle Henry would never have mentioned siblings. “Actually I have three half brothers, two in America and one based in England. You only have the one sister?”

“Penny, yes, only one. Where are you in the rank and file?”

“I’m the eldest.”

“Are your parents still alive?”

“No, both died when I was still in school. Are you ready to ride again?” He didn’t like personal questions. He was afraid he was going to slip up somewhere.

They ended up in Cucuron and Max looked over the pool, remembering the way it was in the movie, with a screen showing old film clips and a piano, and the rain and Fanny. Connie noticed the look on his face.

“Have you been here before?”

“Not really, no, not really at all. Would you like to find a place for dinner here?”

“Yes, it’s nice here by the pool.”

“This has been the most enjoyable day, Connie. Thank you so much for coming with me.”

“Thank you for asking me. I was a little hesitant, you know, but I’ve enjoyed being with you today.”

“That makes me very happy,” he smiled.

“I haven’t been with anyone since my divorce.”

“I haven’t been with anyone since last summer…so we were both due a good day.”  Their eyes met, stayed for a moment and she looked away.

Max paid for their dinner and they mounted the bike for the long, winding way back home.

He stopped the bike at the entrance to La Siroque and turned, looking at her. “If you say no, that’s okay.”

“No.”

He started the bike again and took her home. “Sorry, but I had to ask. I really didn’t want this day to end.”

“There will be other days, Max.” She kissed him softly and disappeared through the narrow opening in the wall.

Max blinked, got on his bike and rode home. It was going to be a long night.

ON TO SKINNER: BOUQUET

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