"I told you it was a bad idea."

"What? You want my wife to eat in the kitchen because Mr. Porksman is a little a fleur de peau [an expression meaning sensitive].

"It's Potsmann," Jonas said as he reentered the veranda."

Jonas did not understand why the French twisted his name so much. The pronunciation was straightforward.

"Are you feeling better?" Mrs. Gauthier asked.

Following Colette's appearance, Jonas left to take a breather. In the bathroom, he calmed Leone and rinsed his face. He tried to reassure the infant and himself.

How to tell a child Leone's age that his mother could not comeback?

"Sorry, Jonas, if my presence bothers you, I canㅡ."

"No, my apologies Colette. It's just you look so much alike."

"Do you want to know what's hilarious? I wasn't aware of my resemblance with Cecile until I married Bertrand and set foot in this household for the first time."

Mr. Gauthier cleared his throat, "perhaps we should eat. I want to show Jonas the grapevines and production."

Cecile's father spoke as though Jonas was a contractor. The casual weekend gradually turned into a nightmare, and all Jonas wished to do was go back to Paris.

The man wondered what Sierra was doing and if she was okay. They did not part in the best of terms, and Jonas hoped Jacob was right when he said his sister would calm down.

What preoccupied the man was Sierra's well-being during his absence. She happened to be of the clumsy lot who bumped their heads into cupboard doors and slipped in the bathroom. Her accidents made Jonas laugh but also worry. Sierra needed to be taken care of as much as Leone.

Jonas forgot the woman survived the first twenty-nine years of her existence without him.

Mrs. Gauthier's constant talking warped Jonas back to the table.

"Colette is a writer, you know. She's pretty famous."

The author smiled, "I wouldn't say that."

"Come on, darling, stop with your fake modesty. Your last book sold over eighty thousand copies in France. It's huge for non-digital."

"What types of books do you write?" Jonas said in an attempt to join the conversation.

"Mystery thrillers. I bet you imagined I wrote romance novels."

"No, I wouldn't dare place a tag. What are you working on at the moment?"

Mr. Gauthier chuckled, "Jonas come on. You can't ask a writer that?"

"Yes, he can," Colette interjected, "I'm still working on the first draft of the manuscript; I already have a title. It's called Bird Cage. It's about a family and its secrets."

"Mounia, can we have the desserts?"

As intended, the arrival of creampuffs and chocolate fondant eclipsed Colette's summary.

The conversation continued with Bertrand asking Jonas twenty questions on Sweden. He even unleashed remarks such as what does Sweden have except bicycles and Ikea.

"They have ABBA," Mrs. Gauthier said.

Jonas's mind would have swirled in Limbo if it wasn't for Colette.

Thanks to her, Jonas got to smile as the woman replied in his stead, "they have the Skarsgard brothers. One would trade a few baguettes, berets and give their body up as a token for one of them."

The comment earned Colette a dark eye from her husband, who disapproved of every one of his wife's words.

As Mr.Gauthier announced, he took Jonas to visit the vines and their wine cellar.

Jonas got a free degustation of the finest wines. Mrs. Gauthier then showed the mansion in its integrity. The tour included the new wings with Bertrand's and Colette's apartments. Indoor swimming pool, sauna, and gym.

La Villa Verde, everything and everyone was polished.

Jonas felt as though all except Colette played by a script they rehearsed to the inch of their life.

Fatally they came to Cecile's room.

"We kept it as it was," Mrs. Gauthier said.

For the first time, the woman's eyes shimmered with the glint of swaying tears. Leone battled to be freed of Jonas's hands. Cecile's scent soaked the walls. The fragrance had both father and son reminiscing on their unique memories of her.

"We prepared a room for you, but if you want to sleep here."

"No, no, keep things the way you arranged them."

The thought of sleeping in Cecile's room as though the man desecrated her grave.

They moved on like the afternoon, and before Jonas realized, Mounia announced, "Mesdames, et monsieur le dinner est servie."

Jonas followed everyone to the movie-worthy dining room. With its chandeliers and long rectangular table, one could almost believe they were in a manner of Downtown Abby. All that missed was a phone at each end of the table.

"Jonas, Mounia has prepared a few vegetarian dishes for you."

"Thank you, how thoughtful of you," said the man who refrained himself from saying he was not vegan.

There were far too many dishes in comparison to the guests.

"Wow, that a lot of food."

Jonas was not vegetarian, but he was against waste of any kind.

"Don't worry about the leftovers, Jonas."

"Robert and Mounia take the leftovers to the Secours Catholique, who distributes it to the homeless."

"That's extremely kind of you."

Mrs. Gauthier smiled, "It's essential for us to help the community. We've always helped the needy of Dijon. I'm sure Sierra was able to tell you that at least."

"Yes, indeed, she told me you were high contributors of the city's parish also."

Mr. Gauthier grinned, "and we still are."

Across from Jonas sat Colette. Jonas could not get over Cecile's doppelganger. What astonished him was that no one seemed to mind having a mirror image of the deceased woman in the room.

Colette's attitude drastically changed between lunch and dinner. She appeared to sulk as though someone punished and prohibited her from speaking. Yet her keen eye attested she was interested in the conversations, but she kept her mouth shut until then.

"How do you find the meal, Jonas?"

The woman's question had Mr. and Mrs. Gauthier exchange glances while her husband cleared his throat before saying, "can you let the man eat in peace, Colette?"

"Oh, it's excellent," Jonas replied.

Bertrand grinned between gritted teeth, "my wife has a gift for speaking at the wrong moment."

Uncle and nephew shared the same habit of apologizing for the women present.

Jonas gave a spoon of mashed potatoes to Leone before turning to say, "I guess I'm not as well educated as I thought. I always like a good conversation during dinner,"

"Jonas, you needn't do that. Mounia can feed him, really I insist."

"It isn't a chore, and I doubt he'll let a stranger feed him."

"Of course," said Mrs. Gauthier.

"So Jonas, how do you find the Villa?" Colette asked.

"It's awe-inspiring. One can't imagine such a place exists in Bourgogne."

Mr. Gauthier beamed, "It's our pride and joy."

"You must like it here, Colette. It must be manna of plot ideas for you."

"Like striking gold," the woman replied, earning her another dark glare from Bertrand, who rebounded, "please excuse my wife. Colette suffers from bipolarity, and this sometimes makes her sound off."

"Ehㅡ."

Jonas did not know how to take the sudden revelation, and Colette seemed not to have the slightest of care as she took a sip of her glass of wine. The mental disorder was also another common trait with Cecile, who was diagnosed with it. Jonas improvised when he lived with Cecile. He knew nothing about it and regretted not having supported the woman properly.

"It must not be easy every day."

"No, Colette is weak. She has treatment. I guess it's creativity's ransom. When you live your life with so many fictional characters in your mind, one can't blame you for not discerning make-believe from reality and taking yourself for someone else. My wife is sometimes possessed by the darkest of her people. Her mind is beautiful, yet so fragile," Bertrand said while turning to gaze at Colette, "but I'm here for her, and I embrace all of her imperfections," he grasped her hand and kissed her knuckles.

If all the scenes and sequences of the day were perfectly calibrated, this particular moment rang oddly. Jonas could not tell if it was the icy smile Colette displayed or whether it was Bertrand's sign of affection towards his wife that was out of place.

Had Jonas traveled back in time?

The man wondered when his stay became an Agatha Christie novel. Everyone's eyes darted and stared at others with suspicions. All Jonas waited for was a whodunit episode where they would seek who killed colonial Mustard to finish off the estranged evening.

One thing was sure none could suspect the odd aura reigning in the Gauthier's household unless they spent time there.