Ch69 - Where you from?

Violet scanned the supplies on the utility shelf and volunteered to make a pot of winter vegetable soup. Edward handed her a bundle of fresh leeks, and she set to work—slicing them thin, then melting butter in a pot and letting the leeks slowly sweat down.

Watching her chop—quick, clean, every potato and carrot cube practically identical—Edward’s brows lifted. “You’re frighteningly professional. Like an actual chef.”

“It’s nothing,” Violet said with a small smile. In truth, she’d been cooking since she was little, making meals for her aunt’s household. Skills honed over months and years didn’t feel impressive—they simply felt necessary.

Halfway through, she spooned out a ladleful of the softened vegetables into a large bowl, mashed them into a puree, then stirred it back into the pot.

A final dusting of white pepper and a few other seasonings, and she ladled a small bowlful. “Here. Taste it, see if it needs anything.”

Edward took a sip and blinked. “WHOA—did you learn this seasoning from Josef? It’s identical.”

That caught Josef’s attention. He set aside the white wine he was opening and walked over. Without a word, he looked into the pot, filled a fresh bowl, and tasted it. Then tasted it again, slower this time.

He lifted his head. “Kid, who taught you that? Aren’t you American?”

Violet answered without hesitation. “Oh, my mother. She was French.”

In Violet’s understanding, her mother’s first language had been French and she often spoke about living in France, so that must have been where she was from. But beyond vague childhood memories, Violet knew almost nothing about her parents except their faces.

“Ah… that explains it. It’s good—very local in flavor.” A faint shadow flickered in Josef’s eyes. He set the bowl down quietly and returned to uncorking the wine.

Violet had intended to mention that her mother had passed away, but after a moment’s thought—this was her first day meeting Josef, and the mood was light—she swallowed the words.

When the food was ready and they walked out of the kitchen, Josef spotted Laurent and his family bustling awkwardly around the table. He raised a brow. This was new. 

Every previous year, they would time their arrival to seven o’clock sharp—never lifting a finger until everything was already set. Yet tonight, they’d actually shoved the sofa back, arranged chairs, and attempted a centerpiece.

Attempted being the key word.

As they prepared to sit, Matteo naturally drifted toward the seat at Josef’s left. Josef tapped the chair lightly with two fingers. “You can sit next to your mother.”

Then he gestured Violet into the seat at his left instead. Edward sat beside her, and across from them were Laurent, Claire, and Matteo.

Violet felt the stares almost immediately—thinly veiled, unfriendly—and all directed at her. She knew they were Josef’s family, people she was meeting for the first time today, but their hostility puzzled her. Especially the woman in the middle. Her smile reminded Violet of Serena’s—polished, polite, and utterly uncomfortable.

“CONTROL your eyes. If you’re dissatisfied, the door is right there.” Josef’s voice cut through the tension. He had seen their staring too.

“Oh—no, no, we’re just curious,” Claire said quickly, still smiling. “You haven’t introduced her yet. Is she… a relative of a friend, perhaps?”

Josef arched a brow and delivered a brisk round of introductions. When he reached Violet: “This is Violet. Edward’s new apprentice. Clear?”

Violet?

Claire repeated the name silently. Familiar. Uncomfortably familiar. But afraid she was imagining things, she slipped a hand into her pocket and drew out her phone—about to message her assistant to run a search—

Josef cleared his throat.

Claire froze. Of course. He hated when anyone used their phone at the table. She stuffed it back into her pocket so fast it almost looked rehearsed. “Just putting it on silent. All right—ready to focus on dinner.”

Dinner stayed cordial enough. Most of the conversation revolved around Josef’s plans for Violet during her three-day stay—naturally, all watchmaking related. Claire kept her ears sharp, listening to every word. Under the table, she nudged Matteo with her knee.

He blinked himself back to awareness, realizing the table talk was still about gears and mechanisms. He lowered his head again, silently praying the dull meal would end soon.

Claire nudged him once more. When he finally looked up, she seized the moment and turned to Josef. “You mentioned your schedule earlier—Matteo said he’d love to join as well.”

Josef gave Matteo a skeptical glance, eyes narrowing. “Last time I took him to the workshop, he nearly fell asleep. You’re sure he’s interested?”

“OF COURSE! He was immature before and missed a lot of opportunities, but he’s been telling me he wants to learn more about watchmaking. And since he and Violet are about the same age, they could keep each other company. Young people learn well together, don’t they?”

Josef wasn’t opposed. If his grandson truly wanted to study horology, all the better. Matteo wasn’t a bad kid—just frivolous. Josef decided to give him another chance. “Fine. If that’s what you want. But be here at nine sharp every morning. I won’t wait.”

Matteo hadn’t even processed what was happening before his mother answered for him. “Of course. He’ll be here on the dot.”

“Mom…” he attempted weak resistance, but Claire shut it down instantly.

 “Don’t be shy. He’s your grandfather—he won’t laugh at you for speaking your mind. Didn’t you draw that design last time? Bring it tomorrow and show him.”

Josef stroked his beard. “ Is that true?”

Matteo hesitated, then gave in. “…Yes.”

Josef’s expression softened, and he encouraged everyone to try the dishes. The mood loosened. Claire’s gaze kept drifting toward Violet, and she finally found an opening.

“Violet, what brings you to Switzerland this time of year? Americans usually start celebrating Christmas around mid-December, don’t they? Your family’s all right with you being here alone?”

Violet smiled politely. “They’ve got their own things going on. We’ll celebrate together on the day itself.”

She glossed over the subject quickly. Christmas had never been a cozy holiday for her—childhoods spent serving guests, brewing tea, clearing plates; later years spent working double-pay shifts. 

She had no real sense of what a “normal family Christmas” looked like. Perhaps this—people gathered around a warm table, fire crackling, food steaming—was the closest she’d ever been.

Even Edward didn’t know the truth about her family. She wasn’t about to explain it to strangers.

But Claire pressed on. “Oh? And what do your parents do?”

Violet’s fork paused mid-air. Edward also looked over—he’d never asked her that, though part of him had always wondered.

“Mom, why are you suddenly so curious about other people?” Matteo blurted out. “You’ve never asked anyone that before.”

He wasn’t wrong. The always-aloof Claire showing interest toward a girl she’d met an hour ago—two questions in a row, no less—was bizarre. Normally she only put on her pleasant face in front of Josef.

A crack formed in Claire’s smile, but she smoothed it over instantly. “What do you mean ‘other people’? She’s Edward’s apprentice now—practically family. It’s normal to get to know each other.”

She turned back to Violet. “I hope you don’t mind. We’re just chatting.”

Violet replied politely. “It’s fine.”

But she didn’t answer Claire’s question. Instead, she redirected it. “So how long are you all staying? I heard there are ski slopes everywhere around here.”

Matteo perked up immediately, voice rising. “SKIING? Now that’s my thing. If my mom hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve brought my gear this trip. Do you ski too? We could go toget—”

“MATTEO.” Claire’s warning tone cut the air. “Have you forgotten your leg only healed recently? You want to break it again?”

Matteo paled and shut his mouth.

“A busted leg is perfect for sitting still and studying watches,” Josef said. “And stop chatting so much. Eat while the food’s hot. When you’re done, go find a hotel. The reception might be closed if you wait too long.”

Pushing further would only draw Josef’s suspicion, so Claire had no choice but to swallow her curiosity about Violet. After dinner, Josef didn’t let them stay to clean up—he simply ushered them out.

Claire’s family left with forced smiles, and spent the night scrambling to find a hotel.