The Promise of Provence (Love in Provence Book 1) Read Free Page B

the S-Works Venge road bike that he spent hours tuning and cleaning every week. He loved that bike. She noticed the car rack was still hanging on the wall and figured he had run out of time packing up his things before she came home.
    Obviously that’s what he was talking about in the note . . . that self-serving, self-centered note . . . and he’ll come back for it . . . “When I say he may,” she said out loud, her face tight with anger.
    She slammed the door to her silver Toyota harder than she ever had before. The usual twenty-minute drive to her parents’ home in the west end of the city seemed to take forever as she put all thoughts into how she would break her news. Taking deep breaths, she tried to stop crying before she arrived, knowing that would only upset her mother more.
    More than once she pulled over to sob, beating her hands on the steering wheel.
    Anger as much as anything fueled the outbursts now.
    James was a liar and a cheat—this she knew. She wondered if she had really loved him or just loved the idea of being married. They had known each other for so long and become each other’s habit before they ever married. She was beginning to feel like a fool. The midafternoon sky was low and gray. A light but steady drizzle infused a sense of gloom beyond the rhythmic slapping of the wipers.
    How is it that less than forty-eight hours ago I thought I loved my husband and he loved me, and now I feel . . . hatred? Is that what it is? I’m not sure it’s hate . . . I hate what’s happening . . . I can’t seem to think past that. How can I suddenly hate him? How could he do this?
    She knew it was too much to comprehend at this point.
    Just deal with it .
    Pulling into the driveway of the small, Tudor-accented house in which she grew up, she sat for a few minutes to gather her thoughts. Katherine’s mother in all honesty had not been very fond of James. Still, this would not be easy.

2
    Elisabeth Varga was sitting in her most comfortable chair by the bay window in the living room, a place where she had spent many hours watching life pass by. When she saw her daughter’s car turn into the driveway, she slowly made her way to the front door.
    At eighty-five she grudgingly admitted her body was letting her down. Macular degeneration was stealing her eyesight, and her doctor had made it clear that her once-strong heart might not have much left to give her. A widow for just over eight years, a part of her was more than ready to join her beloved Joey. After all they had shared in life, his absence caused an almost constant ache.
    The one balm that relieved the hurt was her darling daughter, Katerina. A happy, safe home had been their wish for their daughter, and as the years had passed without a sibling joining her, they focused every effort on being good parents to their only child. From the moment they arrived in Canada, their philosophy revolved simply around one belief: every day is a gift. This they knew only too well.
    It was in this refuge Katherine knew she would find solace today. How much good it would do, she wasn’t certain.
    The door opened and she fell straight into the waiting arms she knew would be there. Mother and daughter hugged longer than usual, and Elisabeth sensed immediately all was not well. The strong, taut frame pressed against her, but something was very broken.
    “Are you still feeling ill?”
    Shaking her head and leading her mother to the sofa, Katherine felt the words she had tested on the drive over slip away as she struggled to keep her composure. Within seconds she was weeping as her mother held her tightly.
    “Na, na,” Elisabeth whispered as she patted Katherine’s back and rocked her gently.
    Feeling strength flow from her mother’s embrace, Katherine eventually pulled her shoulders back, wiped her face, blew her nose, and began to recount the unbelievable.
    Elisabeth’s hands trembled as Katherine held them in hers. Her skin was so thin now, like