Free Gift of the Black Virgin by Serena Janes Page A

turkey? Or a
combination of two or more meats? Some were flavored with port. Or
cognac. Or green peppercorns. Others had bits of black truffles
inside. Or chunks of Roquefort. Did she want one embedded with
whole hard boiled eggs?
    The selection of salamis, smoked or cured
meats and farmer’s-style sausages was her undoing. She didn’t know
there could be so many choices, and she was too confused to try to
explain her dilemma. The poor man behind the counter was terribly
patient with her, but she just couldn’t make up her mind, and her
French always deteriorated when she was nervous.
    “Please, take another customer,” she tried to
say to the clerk. “I need more time.” Judging from the look on his
face, she must have said something else, she figured. She hoped it
wasn’t rude. Or vulgar.
    Then she heard a woman’s voice, in English
with a French accent. “Excuse me? Do you need some help?”
    Jo turned to see a short woman, about her
age, with the same dark coloring and sharp features as Anna. But
this woman was less sophisticated. Her long hair was gathered into
a messy twist and she was wearing jeans and a hoodie. Then Jo
noticed that she wasn’t short so much as having trouble standing up
straight.
    “I do. Thanks. I can’t for the life of me
decode some of these signs, and that’s not helping me decide what
to buy.”
    “I can help you decode, as you say. My name
is Rose. Are you American?”
    “Yes. Is it so obvious?” Jo laughed, and
said, “I’m Joanna. Newly transplanted from Seattle,
Washington.”
    And so started a friendship. Rose, born in
Toulouse, was married to Robert, an American scientist who had
given up his research job in Chicago to try market gardening. They
had met in the States while Rose was at university. They got
married, then moved to France and bought a farm not far from Jo and
Luc. Jo realized she had cycled past their property several
times.
    With Rose’s help, Jo spent about a hundred
Euros on a selection of cheeses and top quality specialty meats.
When they were finished shopping, they exchanged phone numbers, and
Rose invited Jo over for coffee the following week.
    She met Rose’s American husband, Robert
Anderson, a tall ginger-haired man, and the two boys, Robert Jr.
and Max. It turned out that Max was a member of Daniel’s soccer
team, and this happy coincidence formed an instant connection
between the two families.
    Jo liked both Robert and Rose. Rose, she soon
learned, had been crippled from polio as a girl. She could still
get around, but one leg was withered, causing her to lean to one
side. Her disability didn’t slow her down, Jo was impressed to see.
When she wasn’t working in their fields of vegetables, Rose was
preserving fruit from their orchard, making pickles and jams,
chasing after the chickens, and caring for her three men. She
seemed a happy woman, and Jo soon had her pegged as a role
model.
    Jo began to buy eggs and vegetables from
their farm, and even learned a few tips on cooking simple
meals.
    She was adapting.
     
    * * * *
     
    His wedding was less than two weeks away and
Luc still hadn’t decided where to take Joanna for their honeymoon.
She said she would leave it up to him, but he was up to his eyes in
an important project at work, and couldn’t carve away more than a
few days.
    No worries. We don’t have to make a big deal
out of it. We’ll plan a couple of weeks in the spring. Maybe the
Alps. Or Bordeaux.
    He was happy to see Joanna was settling in so
well. Daniel was still smitten, he’d noticed, and the house was
shaping up nicely. Their only problem seemed to be the damned
dogs.
    Sammy and Otis still tried to kill each other
every chance they could. Any disadvantage Sammy had in size and
weight he made up for in ferocity. When he wasn’t busy murdering
the rats that lived in the underbrush around the house, he was
watching the front door, growling, in case Otis suddenly
appeared.
    It was tiresome for Joanna and Luc to have to
plan