At the Chateau for Christmas. Rebecca Winters

I grew older I heard the word opportunist in regard to her come up in hushed conversations at family gatherings. But that was absurd, since Grandfather told me she had plenty of her own money.”

      Laura pushed away from the table and stood up. “I don’t understand any of it, particularly not the lie or the depth of my mother’s and aunt’s venom. After what you’ve told me, it doesn’t make sense.”

      “I agree there’s a big piece missing and had hoped you could enlighten me. Perhaps my grandfather will be able to shed some more light on the subject. Would you like to go down to the garden while we wait?”

      “I’d love it. I’ll get my sweater.”

      She joined him in another minute wearing a white cardigan. He opened the French doors onto the patio. From there he led her down stone steps to the garden.

      “You’d never know it was winter here. Look at that exquisite array of flowers! Everything from pink to red and purple. No wonder they call Provence God’s garden.”