Spilt Wine

20. Two Beautiful Ladies

"Jean-Luc, this is Catherine," I introduced, as we greeted in the doorway. "She's the wife of my dear friend and wine supplier, Louis Ducroix."

After the casual formalities, I continued, "You've probably read or heard of the wine theft and missing people this week on the Côtes." Seeing the nod, I added, "It's Catherine's husband and their maid who are missing."

"Christ! Merde! This is so terrible! Are you okay?"

I gave a brief outline of events in a calm, regulated manner, skimming and filtering to the basic facts while monitoring Catherine's response.

"But this is all so terrible. Are you sure you want to be here? Shouldn't you be doing something to find them?"

"I don't think that's safe. If Louis and Murielle are missing because of malfeasance, it's not safe for us to go poking around searching. The gendarmes have already done a thorough search of the property. Twice now. I think it best to leave this to them."

"Incroyable! We need to sit." He pointed to chairs.

"We need to do something to distract us from this," Catherine said. "Let's talk about barges or the weather, or, or ..."

"She's right, Jean-Luc, let's set this aside for the moment. The Gevrey Gendarmes have your phone number so they can contact us, and the local Gendarmerie here can track us down through you if they need to. Let's carry on. The paperwork?"

"The ink on the facsimile paper is fading already – this is why we need original paper. I have photocopied the sheets here," he said as he opened the folder on his desk and turned it toward me. "You need to initial the amendment to 235,000. We already have Henc's and Maddie's initials and signatures accepting it. My avocat says this will make it a complete, binding contract."

"Done, anywhere else?"

"No, that's it. My avocat also said I could draw up a clean set of paper with the amended information and have it signed and witnessed by both parties if you wish, but he said the photocopied facsimile pages, bundled with the fading pages and the originals are sufficient. We can go ahead and confirm the haul-out for survey next Thursday."

"Can we now go see the barge?" Catherine asked. "I'd love to see it ... Her – I should call her her, shouldn't I? I don't even know what her name is."

"Yes, boats, barges, ships are called her. She's Vrouwe Catharina. Let's go introduce you to each other."

"What's Frowa?"

"That's the Dutch word for lady."

"And Catharina? That sounds like my name."

"Yes, she was christened the Dutch equivalent of Lady Catherine in 1928."

"No! This is incredible! I really must meet her."

"Two cars or one?"

"We'll go with you, Jean-Luc, I don't need an escape hatch this time."

Jean-Luc laughed, "That's a terrible péniche, isn't it? I'm glad it didn't scare you completely away."

We got into the grey Citroën and continued along the one-way street beside the quai, and as we approached the slipway, Jean-Luc said, "We can stop in now and confirm the haul-out."

"No, let's do that when we get back. Right now I want to introduce two beautiful ladies to each other."

"The river is quite high, and it looks like it's continuing to rise," Jean-Luc said after he had looped through town and was driving onto the bridge. "I didn't look at the gauge this morning, but last night it was still a good way below the PHEN mark."

"What's the fen mark?" Catherine asked.

"P-H-E-N, that's the abbreviation for Plus Haut Eau Navigable, the highest navigable water level. When the water reaches the PHEN line on the bridge abutment below us, the river is closed to navigation."

A while later, after our short drive, we walked along the grassy bank, and Catherine exclaimed, "She's beautiful! She looks so proud sitting there. She's so much smaller than my uncle's péniche; a little sports car compared to a big dumper truck."

"The same difference in grace, too," I replied.

We spent nearly two hours aboard, much of the time with Catherine leading a redesign conference. I had taken her on a slow exploration from forepeak to aft cabin, pointing out my thoughts and ideas. Then she sat, pulled a pencil and sketch pad from her shoulder bag and began to draw plans, sending me and Jean-Luc off on measuring expeditions, turning pages and rendering plan views, elevations, obliques, sections and perspectives. When I complimented her work, she admitted studying mechanical drafting and that she had started into architectural before changing direction.

It was mid-afternoon by the time we stepped ashore, and Catherine bade Vrouwe Catharina, "À bientôt! until very soon!" After a brief stop at the slipway office to confirm the haul-out, we enjoyed a crêpe with Jean-Luc on the patio of le Navigation, a small café along the quai, before we bid him farewell.

As we approached Cîteaux on the drive back toward the Côte, Catherine asked, "Could we stop for a visit?"

"I'm not sure if we would be allowed today. This is Holy Saturday, and from my years as an altar boy, I know this is a very full day for the clergy." I shrugged, then took the turn-off toward the abbey. "But we'll not know unless we try."

Surprisingly, we were welcomed in and taken on a tour. A while later, when chanting began in the background, Catherine commented on its beauty. The monk told her, "This is to announce Vespers. You may attend if you wish; there is much more chanting to come."

Catherine and I looked at each other in silence, nodding.