Love in Provence

By William Auch

When John Martin is forced to sell his tech company, he decides to take a six month vacation to the south of France.

When he meets Madame Garcin, her daughter Sophie, and her granddaughter Isabelle, his life is changed forever. What began as a long vacation becomes a journey of self discovery marked by love, loss, and tragedy.

He is molded by this family of three generations of women, tempered by tragedy themselves, in ways that he could never have imagined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781624884443

Book preview

9781624884443

Chapter 1

John Martin paced back and forth in his apartment waiting for the phone to ring. He had finally made the decision to sell his company, and he just wanted to complete the deal. The lingering question: would they accept his terms? He walked over to the massive windows that looked out over San Francisco Bay and watched the fog creeping in to engulf the Golden Gate Bridge. He never tired of the view and always bragged that he had one of the finest apartments in the city. There was no question; the company had been good to him. It was thirty minutes after his potential buyers said they would call, and John sighed in exasperation. He was used to people waiting for him, not the other way around. Finally, the cell phone rang and he answered.

Hello?

Is this Mr. Martin?

Yes.

This is Bob Mathews, the CEO of Software Systems. How are you today?

Fine, thank you.

I want to get right to the point. I’ve discussed the transaction with our board of directors and we are prepared to pay you your asking price, three hundred and fifty million dollars in cash. How does that sound to you?

John began to wonder if he was selling too cheap. Maybe he should have asked for more. There should be some sort of penalty just for keeping him waiting. When can you close the deal? he asked.

We can complete the transaction in thirty days.

John looked out the window at Alcatraz in the distance and began to feel like one of its prisoners. He did not have any more options. He knew it was the best deal he could get.

He sighed. Yes, you have a deal.

Great. I will have our lawyers meet up with your firm next week.

Great. Thank you.

You’ve built a great company and it will make a great addition to our portfolio. It’s been nice doing business with you. Call me if you have any concerns.

OK, I will. Good bye.

John closed his phone and walked over to the center of the living room. He was not sure whether he should be happy or sad. It was as if part of his soul had been ripped away from him, but he knew he had made the right decision. Maybe he was just in a state of shock and the feelings would blow over. But, in some ways, it was as if he had lost his way in the world. The company and been such a large part of his identity, he felt naked without it.

He had just sat down to read the Wall Street Journal when his cell phone rang again. It was his longtime friend, Mike Holland.

Hey John, how about we go out for a drink?

John thought it over for a moment. He was tempted to stay home so he could brood about selling his company, but decided a drink would do him good. Let me take a quick shower and I will be ready to go, he replied.

John was not sure what to say to Mike about selling the company. It was almost as though he felt ashamed, like a dark family secret that was better off left hidden in the closet.

It was not long before Mike appeared at John’s front door. John was still wet from his shower and went to the door in his bathrobe to greet his friend. Mike strolled into the kitchen to grab a beer from the refrigerator before returning to the living room to sit down on the sleek European leather sofa in the living room and pick up the newspaper. Mike’s wife was away visiting her parents in Southern California and it was one of the few times that he was able to get away to go out on the town with John.

So, what’s new? asked Mike.

I sold the company, John blurted out. He had intended to lead up to it, but it was as though he needed the catharsis and had to get it out.

Mike stared at him, open-mouthed, You what?

Just like I said. It’s gone. John flipped the back of his hand toward the window.

Mike's eyes were wider than John had ever seen them. Why?

John shrugged and shifted his gaze to the window. It was getting hard for us to stay independent. I sold to a group of foreign investors. At least I got a good price.

That’s fantastic. Have you told anyone? By the tone in his voice, Mike had recovered from his shock.

No. You’re the only person I’ve told. The deal was finalized today. It had to be kept confidential.

You must be ecstatic. Now we really need to go out and celebrate.

John sighed and turned back to face his friend, leaning against the windowsill. I guess. I’m not sure I really wanted to sell, but I had no choice. We were just too small to compete alone. That company was like my baby. I grew it from nothing. He paused, letting his eyes roam over the large Persian rug lying on the floor, then added, But at least I have time now to pursue some other things. Let me get dressed. John was glad that Mike was the first person to hear the news. He felt Mike was his only true friend. Mike hung out with him in the early days, when he was just a working class guy driving an old beat up car.

John went to his closet, which was the size of a studio apartment, and tried to decide what to wear. He settled on a pair of pressed jeans, selected a polo shirt from the stack on a shelf, and slipped into a comfortable pair of loafers. He stepped over to the large watch winder and pulled his favorite, a Rolex, out of the ten watches rotating back and forth. It was large and people tended to notice it, so it was usually his choice. He stopped in front of the mirror briefly, ran his hand through his hair to make sure the gel was just right, then went out to the living room, where Mike was reading a fitness magazine that had been on the coffee table.

You ready to go? asked John.

Sure. Mike gestured with the magazine in his hand. You mind if I borrow this? I’m trying to get buffed like this guy on the cover. He smiled a sardonic smile.

John laughed and said, Well, you better get started; you’ve got a ways to go. Mike always seemed to make John laugh, despite the seriousness of the situation.

The two made their way down the elevator to the garage, jumped into Mike’s BMW, and drove the short distance to a small bar over in North Beach. They left the car with the valet and went inside. The bar as usual was packed with young professionals, most of them waiting at the bar for their drinks.

What do you think you are going to do now after selling the company? Mike asked as he looked for the bartender.

Right now I don’t know, just enjoy myself. Actually, I was getting a bit burned out, so I’m glad we received the offer when we did.

You, burned out? I’m surprised.

It can happen to the best of us.

The bartender appeared and took their drink orders. John watched as he poured the two beers and then set them on the counter.

Actually, I have been pretty happy over the last ten years. Janice has been good for me, Mike reminded him proudly.

Well, you are one of the few couples I know who are happy, John remarked as he looked around the room for some single women.

I think we are finally going to see if we can have a baby. Janice has wanted children for some time and we are going to see what we can do. With my dental practice getting so busy, things are going better than ever.

Well, good for you, John said quietly as he turned to focus on his drink.

When are you going to settle down? You’re forty-two. You’re not getting any younger.

Don’t remind me. I don’t think marriage is in the cards for me. I don’t want to be tied down.

You seem kind of depressed, Mike commented.

John stared off into space, the events of recent days rolling through his mind. His musings brought a tightness to his chest and he frowned. I don’t know about depressed. I guess all of the negotiations with selling the company have taken a toll. Not to mention, I’m being investigated by the SEC. John’s stomach still churned after the call from Stuart, his investment banker, the day before. It was bad enough selling the company, but the threat of going to jail was much more sobering.

The what?

The Securities and Exchange Commission.

Shit. What’s that about? Mike reached for some peanuts.

It’s the deal Stuart Stevenson dragged me into. He is always pushing the envelope. They are accusing us of insider trading. John gulped the rest of his drink down and signaled to the bartender for two more.

What do you mean by that? asked Mike.

I bought some stock in a company that was going to be bought out. As an investment banker, Stuart was involved in the deal. They're saying that I profited from information that I received from Stuart, but that is not true.

Should you be worried? Can they make a case?

My lawyers say no, but it’s still a major pain in the ass.

I think you just need a break. Why don’t you get away for awhile?

John had to admit that a break sounded nice. Yes, John thought, leaning back in the bar chair, imagining a white sandy beach with a tan girl in a sarong serving him tropical drinks every fifteen minutes. Any ideas? You're the world traveler, he retorted. Sarcasm laced his voice.

One corner of Mike's mouth curled in a half-grin as he studied his nearly empty glass. "Well, how about Europe? Your mother’s French, isn’t she?

Yeah. The image of a white sandy beach dissolved from his mind, replaced by the thought of a buxom French waitress serving him wine and cheese at a chic Parisian café.

Mike looked at him, raising one eyebrow, a gleam in his eye. How’s your French?

John grimaced. A bit rusty.

Janice spent some time at a language school in Aix en Provence. She said it was a lot of fun.

I don’t know. Maybe. I guess I could use a break.

John took a moment to think as the bartender set their next round of drinks in front of them. Mike could always come up with those spur of the moment adventures. Not only had he been to Europe, he had been all over the world with his parents. John was not used to traveling.

What have you got to lose? Take six months off. You don't have anything else to do anyway, and you must have plenty to live on after selling the company.

John had always worried about being poor, and despite being weeks away from having three hundred fifty million dollars in his pocket, he worried that taking six months would somehow lead him back to poverty. He never wanted to end up grubbing away on some farm like his father. I can just imagine what my father would say about that. Anyway, what would I do for six months?

Just take it easy. I can get you the information about the school. You could master French, hang out in France, meet some French girls.

It’s true. I have not taken any time off since we graduated. I’ve worked a lot of fifteen hour days instead. I was never able to backpack through Europe like you did. I put every ounce of energy into the company.

Sometimes John resented Mike’s ability to maintain a relaxed attitude toward life, but then again, failure for Mike meant that he just had to turn to his parents for money. John never had that luxury. His father had instilled in him the consequences of failure, and the result would be drastically different for him that it would be for Mike. There was no pot of money to bail him out if could not pay the rent.

Well then, go.

I’ll have to think about it. I have never even been away from California for that long.

John turned and looked across the bar at a tall brunette woman walking across the room. The short skirt of her black suit showed off her bronzed legs, and the high heels accentuated their shape. He got a charge out of the juxtaposition of professional demeanor and sexy confidence, not to mention the way her blouse showed just enough cleavage and her jacket bulged over what lay beneath. He zeroed in on her hand to see if she wore a wedding ring. No ring. Good. The one thing John did not do was fool around with married women. If she had a boyfriend but no ring, he figured she was fair game. He considered making a move.

Mike, take a look at her. Is she hot or what? He nodded toward the woman.

Mike casually glanced at her, smiled, and remarked, Not bad.

Do you think those boobs are real?

I have no idea. You’re the connoisseur.

Maybe I should find out.

Mike rolled his eyes. You always go for the same types. I think that’s your problem. She looks high maintenance. That hand bag looks expensive, and do you think those highlights are natural? I bet she's in the salon every week. She'd take over your whole closet with her thirty pairs of black shoes and all kinds of outfits she'll only wear once every six months.

Yeah, I guess you’re right. But she looks like she could be fun.

I’m sure she is. The same way Michelle is fun. The gold diggers seem to like you. I think it’s the fancy cars and the Armani suits.

John curled his lip at the thought of his on again, off again girlfriend. Michelle is fun. But she's just Miss-Right-Now. I don't think it's anything long term.

Well, I don't see why you waste your time with her.

She's hot for one.

John's lips pulled into a half-grin, his eyes still focused on the brunette. Oh, bullshit. I’m just charming. Besides, what difference did it make how he attracted women? He was no longer the computer nerd, ignored by women, and he intended to make up for the lost time. Who wanted to date a guy with no money? Once he had money things were different. He enjoyed the attention--especially the attention he got with a pretty girl on his arm. How long they stuck around or kept him interested didn't really matter--there seemed to be a never ending supply, attracted to the glitz he could offer them. However, Mike's words struck a chord and he decided to forget the brunette.

John finished his drink and put his glass on the counter. Are you ready to go?

Sure.

John motioned to the bartender that they were ready to pay their bill, left some money on the bar, and the two of them went out and waited for the car. The valet pulled up in the BMW, Mike tipped the young man, and they made their way back to the apartment. Mike pulled up to the curb in front of the apartment building; John stepped out and told Mike he would call the following week.

***

In the morning, John continued with his morning ritual, a five mile run down the Embarcadero with a stop for coffee on the way back. On occasion he would run up Nob Hill just to test himself. He enjoyed the runs along the bay, with views toward the Bay Bridge and the occasional regatta of sailboats as they turned their mark and raised their colorful spinnakers while they made their way toward the finish line.

John sat on the concrete wall along the Embarcadero and watched the ferries arrive at the ferry building, discharging hundreds of suited men and women on their way to work. Everyone walked as though they were blown from behind like the sail boats on San Francisco Bay, all headed for their offices with the zeal that had consumed John for so many years. It felt strange not to be one of them.

For much of his life, the wind in John's sail had been his father. His father had always pushed him to strive for more success and money. Having fun was not a concept his father embraced. In many ways it had been his father who was instrumental in his success. He had put John through college working extra hours, and with the help of scholarships, John was able to attend graduate school at Stanford. His father had worked hard his whole life and could only dream of the success that his son had achieved. However, his father’s desire to drive his son to success and his own distrust for the world in general had affected John in many ways that he was only beginning to realize.

John knew that he had to tell his father about the sale of the company, but he wanted to avoid it as long as possible. Maybe Mike had the right idea. Maybe it was the perfect time to get away, before he started his next project. Just take a break and have some fun for awhile. He knew that his father would never approve of sitting around for six months, but John decided that was what he was going to do. John smiled wryly at the thought that he had finally become rebellious for the first time in his life.

John pulled out his cell phone and called the school in Aix that Mike had recommended. After a sixty minute conversation with a soft spoken French woman, his mind was made up to go. He spent the rest of the day taking care of some other arrangements and trying to decide if he should let Michelle know he was leaving. He had dated her for only a short time, and he did not feel there was any need to check in with her.

***

It was that evening when John’s cell phone rang. It was Mike.

Did you receive the info about the school? his friend asked.

I did. Thanks. I called them this morning.

So, what do you think?

I’m leaving this Friday. I’ve got to get out of here for awhile. I need some time to think. I made some reservations in Paris for a few days, and the school will help me find an apartment.

Shit, that was fast. But I’m glad you decided to go. Have you told anyone? What about Michelle?

John grimaced at the thought of telling his nagging girlfriend he was leaving her for six months. No, I have not seen her much this week. But I’ll get around to it. I’m going to get out of here before someone talks me out of it. Can you take me to the airport?

Sure. What time?

Friday--ten AM

OK, I’ll see you then.

***

On the morning of John's departure, Mike drove him and his two suitcases down to San Francisco International Airport about a thirty minute drive south of San Francisco. They made their way through the obstacle course of other cars and pushy pedestrians, and when Mike saw an opening, he asserted himself and pulled up to the curb in front of the Air France terminal.

Mike popped the trunk. They both jumped out of the car and pulled John's suitcases out of the trunk. They stood there for a moment, staring at each other.

Well, I guess this is it, man, Mike said. Have a great time.

John smiled and gave him a quick hug, patting him hard on the back. Thanks, man. Thanks for the suggestion and the lift.

Mike nodded in reply and turned to get back in the car, and John headed for the terminal. He turned around briefly to give a short wave to Mike and yelled to him that he would call him after he arrived and became settled, and then walked through the revolving glass doors.

John felt antsy while he waited in line to check in for his flight, and again to go through security. He finally allowed himself to relax a little when he sat down in the first class lounge, although he couldn't help feeling anxious. He began to question whether he had made the right decision. Was he absolutely nuts? Maybe taking six months off would be a waste of time. In addition, he would be away from family and friends and he would be unknown in France. He would have to start all over and meet new people.

Before he could think much more about his trip, the first class passengers were being called to board and John made his way to the gate, down the jet way, and into the plane. He stowed his carry-on bag in the overhead bin before