Domaine de Mourchon

[chanaud]

Set high in the hills, along the Rhone Valley, surrounded by aged grape vines, wild herbs, and fields of lavender lies a vacant compound, Domaine de Mourchon. Far from the capital city, Avignon, and a good hour walk from the closest village, Seguret, very few travelers make its way up the narrow, worn road leading to the dilapidated stoned building.

In its days, when the Mourchon family resided the compound, the acres of garden and vines were cared for. The mild climate and clean soil produced the healthiest of fresh fruits and vegetables and the grapes produced the finest of wines south of Provence. It’s fruitful vegetation provided wealth to generations and generations of Mourchon lineage.

A few seasons of dry weather, the wealth diminished to a minimum. A branch of the Mourchon family found its way into the city for hope of advancing education into more fruitful labor in modern buildings. Little by little, the Domaine de Mourchon’s occupants diminished and the compound lay vacant and forgotten.

Until…

A post marked bearing an official government stamp caught Nadine Mourchon’s deep set eye. She groaned at the red stamp. She knew her tax bill on her tiny apartment located in the heart of Paris was overdue. Nadine thought and hoped the tax office would give her more time to pay the outrageous bill.

She ripped it open. Her keen eyes scanned down quickly. Perplexed by the foreign document, her eyes lifted to the top of the page to read it more carefully. Minutes later, she set the letter down on her marble table slowly. Her mind was lost in deep thought.

Another tax bill listed her as sole ownership! How could it be? Where is this Domaine de Mourchon? It can’t be possible! Sure, this building bears her last name, but she had never heard of this place before. Never, ever, has her family mentioned of a place in the country.

Nadine quickly grabbed the phone and rang the phone number to the tax office in Avignon. She cringed at the cost of the long distance phone call. But she had to settle the matter. Her almost depleted bank balance can’t even afford one fifth of the enormous bill.

OOC: Subo97 will be joining me on this journey. Thank you and I hope you enjoy.

 

[Subo97]

Mark Anders

When the truck stopped to turn off the main road, mark Anders jumped out and thanked the driver. "merci," he said. The drive from Avignon had been pleasant apeaceful, if a bit bouncy. The ducks with which he had shared the truck bed had been most delightful company, more prone to jollity than argument. Mark waved as the truck moved down to the river lowlands. He hoistedhis backpack on his shoulder and ambled slowly down the road.

Amble was was mark Anders did best. Handsome and talented, he lacked only one thing in life: ambition. As a matter of fact, he avoided it like the plague, relying more on his easy going nature than personal drive. After walking a few miles, mark stopped to rest under a massive oak tree. Across the road from the tree was a broken gate to an unused farmer's lane. Up the lane, on a bit of a rise, lay a set of stone buildings surrounded by untended grape vines. Unrushed by any planning, as always, Mark pulled his sketchpad out of his backpack to sketch the scene.

Thumbing through to a blank page, he stopped at his last drawing and smiled. It was a nude of sweet Marie Daubuchon, his recent lover in Marseilles, lounging on her sofa, her head resting in the crook of her arm. She was petite and beautiful with short brown hair. He had sketched her as she rested languidly after making love, her legs open wantonly. She had loved to straddle and ride him, laughing, her small breasts pressed against his beard as he licked her hard pink nipples. Marie was a joy, but she had ambitions for him, wanting to sell his paintings and drawings, urging him to display his work at her brother's gallery. "Markee," she would laugh, " you will be the most famous artist in France, and I will be your muse." But he avoided fame like the plague so he had left her. They were still on good terms. She had allowed him to store his trunk and paintings in her garage. "They'll be here for you when you return," she had said, "but I won't be." and she kissed him. "Please let me know if I may show them." And so Marie was down a long dusty road.

Mark sketched the stone buildings, intrigued by the play of the afternoon light on their texture. It was a scene that would look good in oils, he thought. Perhaps he's send to marie for his paints some day and paint it. Perhaps.

As the day wore on, Mark began to realize he would not make it to Seguret before dark. He looked up at the buildings he had been sketching for hours and realized they were his best hope of refuge for the night, short of begging for a spot in a farmer's loft. Picking up his pack and crossing the road, he squeezed through the broken gate and noticed a broken sign lying in the unused lane. Domaine de Mourchon. Well, tonight it would be his realm.

 

[chanaud]

Nadine Mourchon

After spending countless hours on the phone with the Avignon’s tax collector’s office, Nadine was rudely informed that she had to call the Seguret office. She begged for a toll free line and was received nothing but a buzz from the other party. Her frustration grew. Her speedy fingers rang the Seguret office only to get vacant rings. Next day, she tried again. No answer. The third day, a gentleman with a tired voice quietly told her to hold and he would get someone to assist her. Hour later, Nadine was still on hold. Another hour later, a somewhat cheerful lady picked up the phone and asked why she is tying up the line. Threw gritted teeth, Nadine expressed her frustration and demanded immediate attention.

The lady laughed and explained, “Oh that was Gerard our postal worker. He must have grown tired and left without passing on the information. And besides, there is nothing anyone can do for you. You must appear in person with proper ID before we discuss further. This is after all a delicate situation and how can be assured that I’m speaking to the Nadine Mourchon.”

A hard knot in Nadine’s jaw line throbbed as she tried to control her frustration. “What are your business hours please?”

“Well, I shall be in tomorrow from 9 am to 10 am, 11:am to 12:15pm and I’m hoping to stop in at 2pm to 4pm..”

Nadine grabbed the closest pen and jotted down the crazy hours. What kind of operation is this? She shook her head at this incredulous schedule. “What about the day after?”

“It is St. Basil’s Day. We are closed for the holiday.”

“Fine, I will be there tomorrow at 9am!” She slammed the phone down before she heard the lady say. “The office will be open but the computers are down.”

Nadine called her office and left a message with her employer’s voicemail. “Jack, I’m taking a few days off due to a family emergency. Please don’t ask. I don’t have the full details yet. Something to do with family home in Seguret. If you need me, call my wireless. I should be back next Monday. And don’t worry, that report will be done by then. I’m taking my laptop with me.”

Three minutes later, Nadine was printing the map to Seguret. By her estimation, it will take three hours. That meant leaving at 6 in the morning to be at the office by 9.

The next morning at exactly 5:45 am, Nadine threw a camel leather backpack in the backseat of her Fiat and drove off following the exit signs out of Paris.

 

[Subo97]

Mark Anders

The front door was locked, but Mark could see the house was not inhabited. Peeking through the window, he could see sheets draped over the furniture and dust covering the floor. He went around the house testing doors until he found an open one on the back of the house. He could see from the disturbed dust on the floor that others had been inside. The tracks led to what must have been a den. Old wine bottles and condom wrappers told the story. Local kids were using the old house as a rendevous. Mark laughed softly, remembering warm summer nights in the local graveyard back home.

There was a sofa and a fireplace, at least he would be warm and off the ground. Tomorrow he'd go into Seguret and buy some breakfast. For tonight he'd settle for the apple stowed in his pack. He tossed some kindling into the hearth and started a small fire before darkness overcame the house. He wondered who had lived here, what they had been like and where they had gone. What kind of ghosts had they left behind?

Placing the pack behind his head as a pillow, Mark lay in the golden firelight and thought of Marie

 

[chanaud]

Just half an hour outside of Paris, the tall modern buildings disappeared and were replaced by rolling hills broken up by farm dwellings and livestock grazing on dewy tender grass. It was spring; the wild flowers were in full bloom and the sun was starting to peek. Nadine rolled the window down to welcome the morning fresh air, not caring if her auburn hair was whipping carelessly around her narrow face. Only then did she relax her grip on the steering wheel and took the time to marvel the beautiful splash of colors of the countryside. For a moment, she wished blissfully she had company, a boyfriend perhaps. It was such a shame to waste a holiday in the country without a lover. The idea of a lover came creeping back at Nadine making her shudder. She did not want to recall the last time she’s had a boyfriend since it’s been too long. And Andre didn’t count. He was a mistake, a six month mistake who drained her savings and left her with a distaste towards starving writers.

When she was just outside Avignon, the countryside turned to fields of vegetation. Neat rows filled the fields making room for new crop. Nadine noticed the sudden change of temperature and shed her white cotton sweater exposing a thin lime green cotton dress. She welcomed the sun beating down on her bare shoulders. It was her first time outside of Paris and she hoped to return with a souvenir, a tropical tan to make her friends jealous.

Her car slowed at the crossroad to Avignon and the path leading to Seguret. Remembering the frustrating phone conversations, she decided to conduct her business first. If everything goes well like she expected, she should be out of Seguret by noon and that should give her ample time to visit Avignon with leisure.

An hour later, her Fiat rolled into Seguret and Nadine was immediately confused as to which direction she should turn. She pulled over and grabbed the map printout. Again she was confused. The map showed two lanes into Seguret with a highlight indicating she should be turning right. Nadine looked straight ahead and saw five streets intersecting with one stop light. She looked around hoping someone would show. The streets were empty.

“Pick a road, Nadine..” She whispered to herself. She did. Within a few short minutes, she found herself in the country again. When the paved road turned into a stone path, she slammed on the brakes. The car skidded leaving a cloud of dust behind her.

“Dammmit! How in the hell did I do that?”

“I don’t know, but if you do it again, perhaps I might be able to tell you.”

Nadine screamed at the voice that appeared out of nowhere.

 

[Subo97]

Mark Anders

"Whoa, whoa, relax, it was just a joke," Mark said leaping back from the open car window. His wit sometimes got him in trouble but rarely did it make women scream. She looked at him, one hand on her panting breast.

"You startled me; I had no idea anyone was here

"It's a talent of mine. I fly under the radar," he smiled and walked closer to the car. "You seem lost. I assume you're not from Seguret." She shook her head and and smiled back so mark moved closer, bending and placing his folded arms on the car door. "To tell the truth, I've yet to actually set my foot in the village." His eyes glanced down, as they always did, to take in the young woman's pose. she would make a good study: Narrow face, nice form, and very nice legs. Her dress had slid up her legs to reveal a pair of well formed thighs slightly parted by the exertion of driving. His eyes returned to her face, framed by auburn hair that fell to her pale shoulders.

"I only got here myself, from Marseilles," he said smiling. "I spent the night up at the top of the hill," he turned and pointed, "courtesy of my friends at the Domaind de Mourchon."

Her eyes popped open at his words as if she had been goosed on a dance floor. Uh oh he thought.

 

[chanaud]

Nadine Mourchon

“Did you say you were staying with friends at the Domaine de Mourchon?”

“I uhhh… did I say friends? No, they’re family members, long removed family members…”

Nadine screamed in delight, startling him. Family? Here in town? And here she thought she was the last in line to bear the family name. Why the letter accompanying the tax bill stated so. Family! She must meet them at once.

She was so caught up with the idea of having live relatives, she didn’t notice the confusion in the stranger’s eyes. Nadine looked at him and smiled warmly.

“Are you returning to the Domaine de Mourchon? Perhaps I can offer a ride?”

She leaned across the car and opened the passenger's door before he got a chance to respond.

 

[Subo97]

Mark Anders

Well, shit and shove me in it Mark was flabbergasted, caught in his lie. She obviously knew something about the place he had stayed in. visions of sour faced gendarmes passed before his eyes, but before he could think if a graceful way out, she leaned over and opened the door for him, her sundress drooping to reveal the better half of her pale breasts. larger than marie's little teacups, they pushed all thoughts of gendarmes from his mind.

"Sure." he answered, "It's a lovely day for walking, but why not?" Sliding in beside her, he tossed his pack into the back seat.

"Is this the lane to the Domaine?" she asked and a lightbulb went off in his head.She didn't know where it was, and obviously she didn't know it was empty . There was still room to maneuver. He may just manage to stay out of the Seguret jail yet.

"Ah, yes it is," he stammered in reply, his mind half grinding out scenarios to explain the trap he had put himself in and half wondering who this lovely girl was. "Be careful, the road is in a state of disrepair. Actually the whole Domaine is."

Reaching back for his pack, he pulled out his sketchpad and turned it to the drawing he had made of the Domaine the day before. "You see, my family-my distant family- asked me to come down here and sketch it for them." Showing her his sketch as she drove slowly up the lane, he dove further into his lie, " I think they might want to fix it up and sell it. My sketches look more rustic than a photograph, I can gloss over some of the minor imperfections, you see."

 

[chanaud]

Nadine Mourchon

Nadine glanced down at his sketchbook and noticed right away this stranger was not an amateur but an artist in the making. He was good. Actually, he was better than good. Even with her untrained eye, she noticed how the uneven lines had a natural flow, and managed to capture a beam of sunlight making the rustic house glow through the pencil.

“So that is the Domaine de Mourchon…”

Her soft whisper spoke to no one in particular as her soft brown eyes was lost in the sketches. One after another, the stranger’s long and nimble fingers flipped through his portfolio slowly, so she was able to keep one eye on the road and one on him.

His eyes narrowed as he watched her fascination. She really doesn’t know of this place. Perhaps, she had heard of it somewhere. Or read it’s history.

When the last sketch was shown, Nadine looked straight ahead with determination as the car sped forward. Then she turned to him.

“By the way, I suppose I should introduce myself since I’m giving you a ride…”She chuckled, her mood changed suddenly and her eyes danced merrily as if he was an old friend. “My name is Nadine. Nadine Mourchon.”

 

[Subo97]

Mark

It took a few moments for mark to pull his jaw off the floor. Nadine Mourchon

"Ok, you got me," he smiled wanly, "You're family didn't hire me. I just snuck in last night to spend the night. I'm not a burglar or a thief," he sighed, "just a bit of a liar."

He could see by the twinkle in her eye that she was enjoying his discomfort. She seemed to enjoy watching him squirm. "I didn't harm anything, I just slept on an old sofa. Didn't have to break in, probably local kids have been using it.... You can see I didn't take anything."

"You haven't been here before," he said, "Did you inherit the place?" At least she hadn't turned around and sped for the local gendarmes.

The small lane was lined with hedges, making the Domaine invisible till the car made the last turn at the top of the hill. Then the car made a last sharp westward turn and the sunlit buildings were thrust into view. "Beautiful isn't it? Beauty seems to run in the Mourchon family."

 

[chanaud]

Nadine

Nadine’s eyes widened as the house grew larger. She asked breathlessly.

“Is this really the Dormaine de Mourchon?”

Captivated at the beauty, the stranger’s explanation and his inquiries were forgotten. She had never imagined it to be so grand, so provincial and breathtakingly beautiful. And to think it’s hers. All hers.

“Yes, yes, beautiful. Simply beautiful.”

“She’s even more so inside. If I may, since I owe a boarder’s fee, offer a tour?”

Nadine was envious. Envious because this stranger was able to walk her grounds and knew its hidden secrets before she had the opportunity. She turned to him, and for the first time noticed his grey eyes, her envy washed away immediately. Then she wondered. Should she be wary of this stranger? She studied him, her eyes noted his tanned complexion, his wide lips always ready for a smile, the way hair tossed in direction directions, yet still managed to look neat, his clothes were neat and clean, and then she noticed his hands and the ink around his fingers. He had painter’s hands. She breathed in deeply and decided he was harmless enough. Besides, he was already in the car with her.

“I would love a tour. But I’m not in the habit to allow strangers in my house, so you must tell me your name.”

 

[Subo97]

Mark

Watching her stare in amazement at the Domaine and sensing a way out of his emberrassing situation, Mark flashed his brightest smile. "Mark Anders," he said offering his hand, "you can see what drew me to it. I tell ya what, if you'd like them, I'll give you the sketches to pay for the overnight stay. I won't sign them, though, I don't want them sold."

Nadine's quizzical look reassured him that she didn't recognize the name, so he eased himself out of the car and led her over to the house. She peeked in the windows, gasping in pleasure, but surprised him when she sid she didn't have a key, so he led her around the back of the house to the broken door.

He took her to the den where he had spent the night. "My boudouir, my lady," he bowed stretching his arm out to show her the well used room. "As you can see, others have been here before me, but they really haven't disturbed the rest of the house." He led her through the downstairs room, kicking up dust as they walked. Only one set of footprints, his from the early morning investigation marred the floor. Once she sneezed, her auburn hair bouncing around her face and he offered her his handkerchief, one of those big red ones working men keep.

One of the rooms had a wide window with morning light flowing in across the sheet draped furniture. "There's good light here, I could draw you if you like"

"You have a treasure here, you know, it's amazing that you didn't know anything about it."

 

[chanaud]

Nadine Mourchon

Nadine’s face was filled with rapture as her eyes full of awe flickered back and forth wanting to memorize the room but not sure where to start. Her hands flirted with the walls, and she placed her flushed cheek against the cold stone walls. Then she closed her eyes, and smiled. It was a smile of a satisfied woman.

She stood in the middle of the bay middle and turned to Mark, unaware of how the sun shone through her thin dress silhouetting her body. “Draw me?” Nadine threw her head back and laughed huskily. “I don’t know why you would even want to do that. Thank you, but no thank you, I don’t even like my picture taken. Come. Let’s explore...”

She grabbed his hand, led him out the room, down a wide hall and up an uneven stony staircase supported by wooden rails. On the top of the landing was another hall. From there, they were able to peer down and spy on the downstairs floorplan. At the end was another room. When they walked in, Nadine couldn’t help gasping with delight. It was by far the largest room in the house and in the middle of it was an oversized canopy bed covered with dust. The room was exceptionally bright. Nadine glanced up and gasped again. She tugged Mark’s hand and cried out, “Ooohhh Mark!”

Above their heads were white fluffy summer clouds shining down on them through a dome skylight.

 

[Subo97]

mark

What a delightful girl! Beautiful to say the least. She literally danced her way through the house, her auburn hair bouncing on her shoulders. When the sun filtered through her dress from behind, she looked almost naked. He had seen and drawn many naked women in his time, and made love to his share, but this was less scripted, freer and more intriguing than a tryst with a model. When she threw back her head and laughed in front of the window, she had stood with her legs apart, and it looked almost as if they legs were bare, like some kind of peasant girl with her skirts tied up for the harvest. Following her long legs from bottom to top with his eyes, he couldn't help but wonder if she was auburn haired there as well.

They explored the house, hand in hand, her other hand brushing the walls and furniture, exploring the textures with her fingers as if to reassure herself that it was hers. It was like being invited to a birthday party, a girl in a pretty dress, laughing gaily. She whirled around him as they wandered, twisting him in circles.

At the upstairs landing they paused to lean on the railing and look out over the first floor. He could feel her breast pressed against his arm as she joyfully pointed out each new discovery. the happiness in her voice was almost musical.

They entered what must have been the master bedroom. What kind of master would abandon a mistress like Domain de Mourchon?Ooohhh, Mark she exclaimed, grabbing his hand in both of hers. Nadine's face turned to the skylight, her hair cascading to her back. As she clutched his hand to her her upper chest in glee he felt her breast against his forearm, but it was the ecstatic look on her face, bathed in sun as it was, that absorbed his attention.

"Blue sky during the day, stars at night," he smiled, " you know, I bet it's even awesome in a storm."

"Oh, " she said, dropping his hand, "Do you think it could ever storm in such a beautiful place?"

Mark laughed, sitting on the edge of the bed, "I think it would hardly dare as long as you were in residence." Leaning back on his hands, he watched her, bathed by the Provence sun as it set off the highlights in her hair. She would not let him draw her. women always let him draw them, especially when they found out who he was, or at least who his father was. Maybe in later years he could draw her from memory. Nadine was not one to forget.

 

[chanaud]

Nadine Mourchon

His last comment, the wispy tone in his voice distracted her from the house. She turned to him, cocked her head slightly and then laughed.

“I doubt that very much. In fact, I will predict stormy nights when I’m in residence.”

Nadine blushed at the implication. “Oh. I meant, it seems like a dark cloud follows me wherever I go.”

Then with sadness in her voice, she continued. “Besides, I won’t be able to take up residence. I can’t even afford the tax bill let alone the maintenance.”

Nadine stole a glance at Mark laying lazily on the bed. Odd how comfortable he looks, she thought as her eyes noticed how his blue chambray shirt tightened around his chest. revealing well defined lines. Mark looked as if he’s the proprietor instead of her. Then their eyes met. Something, a spark of light of some sort, flashed between them. Nadine blushed and quickly looked away. Her fingers grazed across the bed’s wood grain like a lover’s hand, while she feigned interest. She can still feel his eyes on her, studying her with his artist’s eyes.

“As much as I hate to, especially after seeing it, I must sell this house. Oh no! What time is it? I’m supposed to be at the tax collector’s office.”

 

[Subo97]

Mark Anders

Such sad eyes appeared suddenly on a face that had sparkled with joy such a short time before. Sadness was one of the first things he had learned to draw; it was one of the first things he had learned. and sadness sells, the public always wanted to see artists suffer.

"The Tax Collector?" He responded, "My, what a dreary prospect. You know, you seem to fit this place as much as it seems to fit you. It would be a shame to give it up." He reached up to the hand that stroked the bedpost and pulled it down, turning it over to look at her palm. Not the calloused hand of a woman who labored, neither did it have the pasty softness often found in the rich and useless. "Surely, something can be worked out? Even if only to buy time."

I don't think so she said sadly, pulling her hand away from his and turning to walk away. As she crossed the room she was once more bathed in light, as though heaven itself chose to favor her. If she would only let him draw her, or better yet, paint her, that would take longer. A seminal thought was budding in his mind.

Catching up to her, he put his arm around her shoulder as if she were an old friend. "You know, miracles occur in the strangest of places. Just today you woke up with no idea that you owned a gem like this." He squeezed her shoulder lightly and kissed her temple, putting on his brazen American coat. "maybe something will turn up." He chucked her neck slightly, using the crook of his arm to make her head bob and got a chuckle and a poke in the ribs from her hard elbow in response.

"How about a ride into town? I promise to be as distracting and irritating as only an american can."



"

 

[chanaud]

Nadine Mourchon

Upon Mark’s initial contact, electric tingles filled her veins. A blush formed in her neck and flowed to her cheeks. And when he kissed her temple, her mouth turned dry making it difficult for her to respond. She stood still, afraid of her response. It was a new sensation, one she’s never felt before, and she didn’t know where it came from. When he turned away from her, a shudder ran through her body.

She followed him mutely to her car. During that time, she was able to observe him secretly. Mark was a head taller than her. He carried a sort of casualness about him that only the self assured can pull off. Yet he seemed kind and in tune to her emotions. Her mind started wandering. Why was he alone in this house? And in this part of France? Is he really an artist? Or is he a student traveling Europe trying to experience life? And most of all – who was he? She needed to know more.

The silence was heavy in the beginning. Mark glanced curiously at her but didn’t question her. After a few attempts of highlighting historic landmarks, Nadine was back to her comfortable self and was enjoying the tour through Mark’s eyes. Whoever he is, he is an artist, she decided. He was able to find beauty in just about everything including a century old tree. Soon they were old friends again. Yet the new sensation he was able to cast on her was still on the forefront of her mind.

With Mark’s guidance and sharp sense of direction, Nadine drove to the tax collector’s office with ease. They stopped before the historic building and saw the Closed sign. Nadine frowned. This was not going according to plan.

“I suppose the town is out to lunch.” Mark said. “Perhaps we should have lunch too while we wait.”

The hunger pangs rumbled immediately at the mention of lunch. “Yes, lunch sounds good. Are you familiar with this town?” She inquired. “The office isn’t open until 4 pm, so there’s plenty of time for a tour.” Nadine frowned. “Unless you have a prearranged appointment..."

 

[Subo97]

Mark

"Nope, my calendar is open. I like to keep it that way. Lead on, there's bound to be a cafe somewhere, I bet your beuracrats are there right now." He took her hand and began walking down the street. "I've never been here," he said, "I just arrived from Marseilles yesterday." Seguret was a small town and the cafe was easy to find. An older woman paused in the chore of sweeping her stoop and directed them to a small corner cafe, where they ordered lunch and played guess the tax man as they watched the townspeople.

Mark managed to keep her laughing through the afternoon. Some of the villagers looked at them and winked laughing. "they think we're lovers," Mark winked. "otherwise, you'd be besieged by farmboys."

He sipped the dark burgundy he had ordered with his bread and cheese. "You know,the sky is good here. I could do some good work, I think." He looked at the furrows in her brow as she stared distractedly back the way they came.

"Would you let me stay at the Domaine and work? I'm not rich, but I'm no starving artist, either. I bet the summer rent would pay your taxes, and I'd actually get some work done. Besides," he laughed, "you wouldn't have to have me arrested for trespassing." Besides, he thought,It might keep me around you a bit longer

 

[chanaud]

Nadine laughed with him. He truly was a witty – for an American. “Of course, I won’t have you arrested. Besides what will the autorités say after the whole town has seen me having a pleasant meal with you?”

Her eyes continued to shine brilliantly. Somehow, somewhere she had made a friend and she hated to see him walk away so soon.

Mark crossed one lean leg over the other knee, and she noticed the dirt on his worn boots. A flash of a starving artist appeared before her. She frowned. Her lips flirted with the wine glass a second too long as she was lost in thought.

“I can’t possibly charge you especially with the condition of the house.” She shook her head again and spoke slower and gentler. “It’s in such disrepair; your labor alone must exceed any boarding charges elsewhere. Not possible. You can stay and do whatever you can before I sell it. But I can’t possibly charge you?

The door to the café opened. With a wistful breeze came a woman, who looked to be about middle aged, wearing the crispest white linen suit and a large brim matching straw hat. Her chiseled face was flawless and her lips were perfectly penciled in red. Her cool blue eyes were focused on them.

Nadine looked around in bewilderment and saw the surrounding tables had cleared. “I think we found her. She is our tax collector.”

Mark turned immediately to the stranger with playful grin. Then his face fell.

“Markeeeeeeeeee”

 

[Subo97]

mark Anders

"Oh, God, I wish. Better a bus full of Tax Collectors than this!"

The woman glided straight over to their table and bent over to kiss Mark's cheek. "Don't bother to get up, darling, that would be polite," and without asking, pulled out a chair and sat down.

"How did you find me, Sylvie?" Mark asked, looking warily at Nadine, trying not to reveal his eyes.

"Find you? Don't be so vain, silly boy. My husband owns a vineyard up the valley," she waved an indifferent hand, " I came to town to get away from the dolt. I was talking to a nice young man at the bank when I saw you walk by. Your brother told me you were in Provence, but I hardly expected to find you, you keep such low company."

Sylvie smiled oily at Nadine. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your little friend?" she asked with a smile.

"This,"he said, pointing at the woman, "is Sylvie Bakersfield, and this, "he continued, standing and taking Nadine's hand, " is Nadine Mourchon, my gracious host at the Domaind de Mourchon."

"How nice," Sylvie replied icily, "You're moving up in the world, aren't you, Markee? You usually prefer dingy garrets."

"Sunny garrets, Sylvie, I always look for the sun." He looked straight at her, "what do you want, Sylvie"

"Why, we want you to come back to Paris, or New York, you naughty boy."

"Well, I'm not going. Not for my brother, and especially not for the likes of you."

Sylvie laughed and stood up. She kissed him on the cheek and turned to Nadine. "His father played this surly game, too, you know. Always the bad boy. Except when he painted or made love." She patted Mark's cheek with her hand. "don't be a stranger, Markee, come see us some night for dinner." She sashayed her way out of the cafe, her hips swaying in her tight e suit, as if confident all eyes were on her.

Mark sat down, keeping his eyes on the floor, scratching his head with his fingers. "So," he heard Nadine snap, "I guess deception comes naturally to you."

 

[chanaud]

Even as a child, Nadine had always been a free-spirit, marched to her own drumbeat, and never conformed to social pressures, but this woman, who had the eyes of a cold snake, who seemed to be on intimate terms with Mark, surveyed Nadine coldly and then dismissed her.

Nadine wished the ground would open and swallow her whole. Never before was she belittled so cruelly and left feeling childlike and unfeminine. Through the whole nightmarish scene, Mark had his eyes on the floor, and couldn’t even look at her. Then finally when he did look at Nadine, there was pity in his eyes, as if he saw what the woman saw, a little waif of a girl. Nadine was infuriated. She was deceived. She felt like a pawn in a life chess game. Somewhere along the way, a secret was passed and Nadine missed it. He was like all men in her past, and she wanted him out of her life.

“Nadine…I suppose I should have been honest with you. It’s actually a funny story…”

With trembling hands, Nadine grabbed her glass of wine. Poised before her parched lips, she glanced at him and saw a smirk. All social graces flew out at that exact moment. Nadine threw her wine across the table and to Mark’s smugness.

“Funny story, eh? You find breaking into my home, and deceiving me humorous? Well thank God, I came along so, you and… and....her.... your slut can have something to laugh about tonight. Good bye Mark!”

 

[Subo97]

Mark Anders

Stunned by nadine's verbal and liquid assault, Mark sat still with wine dripping off his face as she fled the cafe. But the slamming of the door left an empty silence in the cafe and his head that he could not abide. He dropped some francs ont he table, catching the waiter's eye. "Go, monsieur," the waiter waved with a wink, "go catch the passionate lady."

Mark ran down the street, trying to catch up to her, assuming she was headed to her car at the tax office. "Wait, please," he called, catching up to her and grabbing her elbow, "Let me explain."

"Don't you touch me," she yelled and jerked her arm away. "If you touch me again, I'll call the gendarmes."

He raised his hands up, palms out. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I like you." she ignored him, striding up the street with a deliberate gait. "I thought your house was abandoned, Ididn't break in and I didn't harm anything. I don't harm beautiful things."

"I'm sorry about Sylvie," he said, trailing after her. "I didn't invite her, she just found me...besides, she's not my slut, she's my father's..." she stopped for a moment and stood rigid, as if thinking. Mark caught up to her and once again touched her arm gently. "She was my father's mistress. She doesn't want me and I certainly don't want her."

"So?" Nadine asked, crossing her arms under her breasts.

"So, she wants me to paint. Her husband is rich, he bought her a gallery in the Village...Greenwich Village, New York" he added as he saw her brow furrow. "My father was Cecil Anders. Some people think he was a great painter, she made him famous, mostly after he died, now she wants to do the same to me.."

Seeing her face soften a bit, Mark smiled at her, "do you really think I could stand that for long," he said, pointing his thumb back at the cafe and Sylvie.

She laughed slightly at that, "I'm still mad at you, you know. You weren't honest."

"I know, I know," he answered. "I just want people to like me for me, not for who my father was. It's a relief to know you've never heard of either of us" he laughed. "You've seen my work. It's good, but I'm no genius like my father. Don't want to be, fame and genius killed him, that and the drugs and alcohol."

"I was serious about the Domaine, you know," he said. "I get an allowance from my father's estate, not enough to live on, really, but it lets me paint and travel, as long as I go by foot or chicken truck," he laughed and winked, getting a smile from her in return. "It's ok if you want to say goodbye," he said, extending his hand, "but can we do it as friends?"

 

[chanaud]

Nadine Mourchon

At that very moment, Nadine wanted more than anything to walk away from Mark and out of his life. Instead something compelled her to stay. Maybe it was the warm pool of soft grey eyes teasing one moment, then sadness. They seemed to be constantly searching for something beautiful in his life. Or maybe it was the false façade of joviality masking something…something…haunting in his life. Whatever it was, Nadine couldn’t put her finger on it, and she remained on the peaceful sidewalk accepting the fate life had in store for her.

With a sigh of resignation, Nadine pushed a lock of imagery hair behind her left ear before extending her hand to greet his. “I would like that more than anything. But I think we should start over. Hello, my name is Nadine Mourchon. I am a 29 year old, single, copy editor for Mondo Times. I don’t have any husbands, ex-husbands, children, or anyone to be responsible for. Well except for one… but that’s a story for later.... I’ve just come aware of this great inheritance, but with every gift come a price. This one is a tax bill greater than two years of my pittance of a salary. The only option I have is to sell, which saddens me deeply…now that I’ve seen it…”

She smiled broadly, willing the sadness from her eyes. “Enough of me. Whom do I have the pleasure calling my new friend?”

 

[Subo97]

mark

"Mark Anders," he grinned broadly, taking her hand. "Itinerant artist, trying his best and succeeding in avoiding fame and fortune. I've been in France a couple years and, Sylvie not withstanding, it's been a wonderful experience. I'm a failure at 30 and proud of it." Looking up at the sky, he he waved with his hand. "You have such beautiful high skies here, perfect white light, it seems to make beautiful things even more so" He couldn't help looking at her face as he said that, knowing what a good subject she'd make.

"So, we're both artists, me with chalk and oils, you with words. I bet there's a novel hidden in a drawer somewhere in your apartment." He poked her gently int he ribs and winked.

"It's too bad about your Domain. It is a treasure. That bedroom with the skylight would make a great studio. I'd have to leave the bed in it, though, too many possibilities. I really hope it works out. Suppose we go find out the details from the tax collector before you make any final decisions." He hated to see the girl lose her place, especially after just finding it. The germ of an idea began to form in his mind, but it would include Sylvie and he wasn't about to repoen that can of worms yet.

 

[chanaud]

Nadine Mourchon

Nadine eyes flashed with surprise. We’ll work it out? What did he mean by that? She wondered, her eyes studied his face searching for any meaning behind his words. Not releasing her hand, he led her towards the office.

When they entered the office, an elderly lady with long gray hair wearing a tight smile looked up. Nadine stiffened at the greeting, her guard rose ready for another attack.
The lady waited silently for them to approach the desk.

“Bonjour, my name is Nadine Mourchon. I’ve come to…”

“Ahhh, oui, I was hoping you would arrive today to pay the estate taxes.”

“I’ve come as soon as I could.” Nadine dug in her backpack and produced her tax bill. “Madame, I’ve inquired to set up a payment plan…”

“Payment plan? You’ve not come to pay the entire bill, no?”

“I apologize. The bill is just a little too steep at the moment. But I assure you, if you accept my monthly installments; the bill will be paid before the year end. Please?”

Nadine’s eyes pleaded in desperation.

“Madame, we’ve waited long enough. If you cannot pay the bill, we will have to auction off the property.”

“Auction? Can’t you wait a few months? I’ve plans to sell the estate, and pay off any debt that the house might have incurred.”

“Madame..” The clerk started.

“Mademoiselle!” Nadine corrected her.

“Miss Mourchon, we are a small town. We do not have the luxury of providing payment plans especially one of this size. If you cannot pay the debt within the month’s end, the town of Seguret will be forced to auction off the Domaine de Mourchon.”

The clerk pronounced every syllable clearly. Nadine stood dumfounded, unable to move. The clerk noticed, her tone softened.

"Don't worry, don't worry, the house will go for a handsome price. Already people are inquiring into it. Why this morning, a woman called wanting full details."