“I knew this letter was important,” Andrea declared. “I could just feel it. What do you think the treasure could be? Money? Gold? The deed to the family home? Maybe your great-grandmother’s family was wealthy.”
Simone ignored her as she reread the letter, trying to grasp the meaning.
“You could be rich, Simone.” Andrea grabbed her by the arm, giving her a shake. “Think about it, this could be something really big. Aren’t you just a tiny bit excited?”
Simone blinked then slowly nodded. “Yes, of course, it’s exciting. But think about it, Andrea. Great-grandmamma Simone left during World War II. She hadn’t been in France for . . . well, decades.”
“Yes, but she sounded pretty certain that her treasure was safely hidden in Avre. It must still be there. Maybe it’s in her childhood home. Don’t people in France keep homes in the family for generations?”
“Even if she hid it in her family home, what are the chances it hasn’t been found by someone? Or that her relatives still live in the same house? And even if her mysterious treasure is still there, how could I possibly find it? How would I know where to look?”
“Stop being so negative. Just imagine if you did find it—how cool would that be? It would give you an even stronger connection to your namesake. She was such a cool lady. You need to do this.”
“Get real, Andrea. Even if I miraculously found this supposed treasure that probably doesn’t even exist, how could I prove to anyone that it was mine?”
“The letter.” Andrea pointed to the page still in Simone’s hand. “That’s your proof.”
“But, honestly, I wouldn’t know where to begin.” Furthermore, Simone had no desire to board a jet and fly clear to France. Not that she planned to admit her deep-rooted flying fears to Andrea.
“Oh, Simone, this is an adventure just waiting for you. Weren’t you just telling me you were ready for some sort of big change in your life?”
Simone did recall saying something to that effect last night. But only after Andrea had insisted on opening an old bottle of wine she’d found buried in the back of the pantry. After a couple of sips of what tasted more like vinegar then wine, Simone had confessed that she did want something more.
“I only meant that I didn’t plan to go back to being a dental assistant,” she said. “I’m done with that.”
“And I’m glad you are. I’ve always known that you were meant for something bigger and better than cleaning teeth.”
Simone felt defensive. “There’s nothing wrong with being a dental assistant. Grandma Betty was one—and that’s how she met Grandpa Hal.”
“Yeah, yeah—I know the drill. You were supposed to marry a dentist like Betty did and live happily ever after.” Andrea rolled her eyes. “So, how’s that working for you, girlfriend?”
Simone just laughed it off as she slid the letter into her sweatshirt pocket. It wasn’t that she hadn’t had an opportunity to marry a dentist, but after several years of dating one, she realized that was not her dream. Jonathan was nice enough—but he was boring. Grandma Betty’s deteriorating health had provided Simone the perfect excuse to bid Jonathan adieu. No regrets.
“You’ve always been a creative spirit.” Andrea’s words nudged her back to the present. “Remember high school and those first college years . . . how you loved art and dance and theater? You had dreams, Simone.”
“Maybe. But then Grandpa Hal died. And, well, it was like my wake-up call.”
“To grow up and start adulting? You weren’t even twenty-one.”
“Grandma Betty needed my support—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But she doesn’t need you now. And from what I can see, you’re free to do whatever you like.” Andrea checked her phone. “Unlike me. Looks like Mom’s ready for me to pick up the girls. Olive and Macy get a little crazy around this time of day. That’s why they call it the witching hour.”
“Well, thanks for helping today. And thank your mom too. Give your little angels a hug from me.”
Andrea took a couple of minutes to explain which boxes were destined for the dumpster and which ones could go to the storage unit Simone had rented. “And I’ll come back again on Saturday. Jerrod promised a daddy day with the girls so I can help you some more.” She glanced around the living room. “It might seem overwhelming right now, but we’re closer than it looks.”
“I hope you’re right.” Simone wasn’t convinced.
“And when I come on Saturday, we’re going to start making plans for you to take a little trip to France.”
Simone grimaced. “We’ll see.”
“I just wish I could go with you.”
“Now, that might be fun.” Simone opened the front door to see that dark clouds had already rolled in. “Looks like that rainstorm’s about to let loose.”
“Better get those buckets lined up,” Andrea said, teasing.
“Just one bucket,” Simone reminded her. “The roof only leaks in the laundry room. And I have a roofer scheduled to come check it out right after Thanksgiving.”
“That’s more than a week away. Sure you won’t be under water by then?”
Simone shrugged. “It is what it is.” She picked up the box she’d filled with odds and ends she thought Olive and Macy might enjoy. “Don’t forget this.”
“Thanks. The girls are going to love it.” Andrea pulled on the hood of her jacket just as the sky opened up and started to pour. “Maybe you should just skip the roofer and sell the house as is. Even with a leaky roof, you’d get a good price. I heard it’s still a seller’s market. Then you’d be free to go treasure hunting in France!”
“You’re like a dog with a bone.” Simone laughed.
“A really nice bone. Think about it, Simone. A French Christmas!” Andrea sighed dreamily. “Isn’t that tempting? Christmas in the French Alps? And after you find your treasure, you can come home a rich woman.”
Simone smiled as she shook her head. “You are totally delusional!”
“Excuse me for having an optimistic imagination!” Andrea waved and dodged raindrops as she dashed out to her minivan.
Standing on the front porch, Simone watched the fat raindrops splatting down on the cement footpath. Hopefully she was right about the leak being limited to the laundry room roof. It was the first big rain since last spring and looked to be a real deluge. As raindrops morphed into sheets of water, Simone remembered one of Grandma Betty’s favorite songs—“It Never Rains in Southern California.” Hadn’t she just packed the Albert Hammond record in one of the “To be saved” boxes? Maybe she’d dredge it out and fire up her grandma’s old stereo this evening. Just for old times’ sake.
She sighed as she closed the front door against the Southern California rainstorm, wondering—not for the first time—if she really wanted to continue living here. There was so much she didn’t like about this region . . . the weather, the traffic, the earthquakes.
And what about the loneliness during the holidays? Andrea’s words echoed through her head—Christmas in the French Alps. Of course, it sounded absolutely wonderful. Like a beautiful dream. But Simone knew from experience, dreams like that didn’t come true. Not for her anyway. C’est impossible.