Chapter 16: The Unusual Leah

That evening, Zoe recounted to her parents how she had convinced Ronan to dig for truffles, proposed they share a market stall, and hoped to borrow their car more frequently as a result. She implicitly suggested that the car was just sitting idle at home anyway, and intuitively calculated the tangible financial income this would bring her. Soon, she would have enough money saved to buy a car of her own, which would allow her to participate in more markets across Provence, even during the peak season for family travel.

When Zoe finished, Louis and Leah both wore expressions of surprise and confusion. As the more perceptive of the two, Leah keenly sensed that something was off with Zoe; she could have described the events objectively and rationally, as she usually did, but this time her account was laced with subjective interpretations and opinions. Could she have a crush on Ronan? Or had they developed feelings for each other and were already dating? Goodness, how could I have failed to notice their interactions at the party? What a grave mistake!

As a thick-skinned father, Louis did not focus on the car-borrowing request—Ronan was welcome to take it whenever he wanted—but he was intrigued by Henry’s strange behavior. "Are you saying that Henry took the initiative to snatch things from Ronan’s hands and even spoke in a fawning tone?"

Zoe pondered for a moment. "It must have been fawning; I’ve only ever seen him make that expression when he’s dealing with Pierre."

Louis couldn't help but lean forward, his interest piqued. "And Henry said everyone at the Old Tavern wanted to buy Ronan a drink?"

Zoe nodded. "Yes."

Louis quickly rose and made a call. The phone was answered promptly, and Louis asked bluntly, "Did something happen at the Old Tavern today?"

The voice on the other end belonged to Alain, the bakery owner, who was the most familiar with the village gossip. "The farmers held another truffle-hunting competition. Lucas won. You know how it is—that guy is a professional truffle hunter."

Louis relayed what Zoe had told him. There was a silence on the other end for a few seconds before Alain said, "I’ll go find out."

Three minutes later, Alain called back. Even though Zoe and Leah were four or five meters away from the receiver, they could still hear the shock and madness in Alain’s tone. "You won't believe it! Lucas said that when he went to the Old Tavern this afternoon, no one came to congratulate him, and no one offered him a drink. Everyone was waiting for Ronan! Louis, I think we have to hold a gathering. It’s been too long since we exchanged news, and so much has happened with Ronan without anyone knowing!"

Zoe blinked rapidly. If she remembered correctly, these people had held a gathering just four days ago. Her father and his friends had elevated the "gossip-loving" nature of the Provençal people to an extreme.

But this time, it wasn't Louis who answered Alain... Leah shouted into the phone, "That’s right, we must hold a gathering! We’ve neglected too many things lately!"

Zoe looked at her mother with a complicated expression. "Mom?"

The next morning, when Ronan went to Louis’s house to borrow the car, it was Leah who opened the door. She informed him there would be a gathering that evening and warmly invited him to come inside for breakfast if he hadn't eaten. Ronan would have loved to taste Leah’s cooking, but every extra minute spent looking for truffles could mean a greater harvest, so he apologized, "Next time, I’ll definitely come next time."

Leah said in a coaxing and probing tone, "Zoe is eating inside. Why don't you come in and join her?"

Ronan felt that the Leah before him had transformed into a villain from a Chinese fairy tale—a spider demon trying to lure passersby into her web. The aura Leah was radiating was exactly that; she seemed desperate to get Ronan inside the house. Ronan guardedly declined her offer and ran off with the car keys.

Ronan set off at eight and didn't reach his "secret garden" until nearly eleven. Although the journey was long, he had arrived here in the afternoon last time, so he had gained several extra hours today. Ronan first inspected the area to ensure no one else had been there before starting the next step: searching for the "barren" patches.

His target soon appeared. Ronan followed his previous method: crafting a brush, scouring the ground, locating where the flies emerged, and finally, the excavation. With his successful experience, this time went even more smoothly.

Over the next four hours, Ronan found a total of eight truffles. While the number wasn't huge, each piece was substantial, with the largest one resembling a potato.

For the following week, Ronan repeated the same routine every day: go to Louis’s house to borrow the car, travel to the "secret garden," find truffles, and dig them up.

When the next Friday arrived, Zoe saw Ronan at the stall and asked in surprise, "Are you sure we’ll have enough room if we squeeze into one spot?"

This was, of course, a joke, but it fully captured Zoe’s level of shock. Ronan was holding a case the size of a suitcase. You actually dug up this many truffles?

While casually recounting amusing stories from his week of digging, Ronan laid out sixty truffles of various sizes and shapes onto the lake-blue embroidered tablecloth Zoe had specially prepared for him. "I had a bit of luck," he said, smiling at his harvest.

Zoe let out a long sigh, looked at Ronan with a complex expression, and said, "I told you, the people of Provence are incredibly nosy. Do you know what this is going to lead to?"

"Lead to what?" Ronan was busy arranging the truffles by size to make them look more enticing.

"It’s going to lead to a situation we won’t be able to handle at all," Zoe said, her face full of worry.

Although the village of Lourmarin was not large, the weekly market still attracted many visitors and people from other villages. Today, people visiting the market discovered that many stall owners had disappeared, replaced by notes on their tables: *Hint, hint: If you want to buy something, please go to the stall in front of the bakery and find the owner.*

Because they saw so many signs with the same message, people couldn't help but be curious about what was happening over there. As they strolled through the market, they kept asking where the bakery was.

"Go to the end of this road, turn right for a hundred meters, then take a left. Don't worry about not finding it; just look for where the crowd is thickest," a kind shopkeeper pointed the way enthusiastically.

"What’s happening over there? Why are even the shopkeepers going to watch the excitement?"

"A young man dug up sixty truffles in a week. That’s even more impressive than Saint Antoine (the legendary saint who protects truffles). If I hadn't been diagnosed with spondylolisthesis last month and told by the doctor not to walk too much, I would have gone to see it myself."