Maggie breathed out a sigh of relief as she followed the cobblestone street toward the market the bed and breakfast owner had told her was the best in town. It was a special thing to revisit a home from her past with friends from her present, and also, she couldn't help but note how the memories came back to her more fluidly each time she had a moment alone.
The air here brought with it stories. Cold ocean, high mountain sheep, and the ubiquitous rosemary that seems to permeate the hillsides of the entire European continent. All blended together in a swirl of nostalgic feelings. Glimpses of a younger self, wide eyed in her first foray living in a new country, flashed across her senses with each inhale.
The approaching market stall, apparently only open one day a week, pulled her out of nostalgic reverie. When Maggie had asked Elene, the owner of the guesthouse where she was staying, where she got the jams served each morning with breakfast, the proprietor had shown her around the fruit trees, herbs, tomatoes, and chickens in the guest house's gardens, but told her she always splurges on cherries from Xavier at the market. Something so magnifique, she raved, is worth the expense.
Maggie agreed, and so now she found herself on a quest for these perfect cherries. It was late May, and Elene told her the first ones of the new season were just being picked. But if there weren't any ready today, Xavier, whose farm and winery grew the cherries, would also sell jam from last year's bounty.
The market stall was on the edge of town, at the end of the cobblestone street that wound from the end of the farmed flatlands to the base of the hill leading up to the stone church on the mountain that gave the town its name. Saint Pierre de Castelnau - decidedly more French than Basque, but such was the project of France to mandate its language everywhere it went. Local farmers and fishermen brought their wares here a couple days a week, on their own schedules, and the town butcher was only a few meters away.
Today, late in spring but still too early for the seasonal crowds to arrive, Maggie found the market largely empty but for a few birds chirping nearby. She quickly spotted the stall, noticing piles of fresh green beans, colorful peppers, and a handwritten list of some sort.
Walking closer, she realized the list was for available cheeses and was excited to see a couple varieties of her longtime local favorite, brebis. She was pondering the options when a voice cut through her studying.
"Est-ce qu'il y a quelque chose que vous cherchez, Madame?"
"Oh, pardon" Maggie responded, noticing for the first time the man standing in front of her, his face betraying just the glimmer of a smirk as he processed her surprise.
Thankfully her French had come back quickly on this trip. "Yes, actually. Elene told me that the cherries in her incredible jam come from you, so I came to see if you have any in season yet. You are Xavier, I assume?"
Xavier's face warmed at the mention of Elene. "Yes, I am indeed Xavier. And if Elene sent you, it is a pleasure to meet you....."
"Maggie! Or in France, Marguerite. As you like" Maggie offered, still taking in that the Xavier who Elene had made sound like an elder farmer was actually rather young... and hot.
The smirk popped up again on Xavier's face at her offering and he laughed a bit as he pronounced her name with perfect English. "Maggie, a pleasure to meet you. Unfortunately the cherries are just beginning to decide they are ready, so it will be another week before I bring them to the market with me. But I do have here some jam from last year that I made, perhaps you would like to try with a bite of cheese?"
