A Deleted Scene

When my editor returned Discord in Provence to me, she included a note that while she had enjoyed the following scene, it did not seem necessary to the story. It slowed the action down without adding anything significant. Although I was sad to admit it, she was right. It hurt to delete this scene from the final version because I love this French tradition, but I know that the novella is stronger without it.
However, I kept a copy of that scene and now, readers, present all 612 words for your reading enjoyment!

A short time later the group entered the Maison Fouque for their tour of the santon workshop. Aubrye was mesmerized by this French tradition. She vaguely remembered the term from her days of learning about Christmas decorations in French class, but these figurines representing the villagers coming to pay their respects to the infant Jesus were much more captivating in person than in lecture. Their guide took them through the process of creating a santon, starting with the clay being shaped by a mold. Once molded, the figurine underwent the drying process. Over a period of several days to two months, the santon was smoothed, its ridges neatened, and the steps repeated with care. Eventually the figurine would be placed in an oven for cooking, a process that hardened the clay into a brick-like substance. The final step involved delicate precise painting, the layers creating fine details.

“And now we invite you into our shop so that you may add some of these quality pieces to your own Christmas celebration,” the guide smiled.

“Just like any major amusement park,” Aubrye overheard Drew murmur to Bradie. “First the attraction, then the gift shop.”

“Shh,” she hushed her husband with a little swat. “These are unique souvenirs. They would be perfect for our Nativity scene.”

Looking over the santons, Aubrye had to agree. Even if they did not match her set depicting the birth of the Christ child, the figurines would add a personal touch. The only problem was deciding which one she wanted to take home with her. There was a blue-aproned woman with a pitchfork of hay or the moustached gardener pushing a wheelbarrow of carrots and other vegetables. The jolly baker’s wife with both arms full of breads or the equally-amiable butcher, his hands carrying choice cuts of meat. The black-robed lawyer contrasted against the fancy singer.

“Figure it out yet?” Greg asked, a small bag already at his side, the gift of a shepherdess for his mother not taking long to purchase.

Aubrye made a face. “Almost. I really like this dancing couple, but this woman is selling sweets traditional to the area which I think is an awesome cultural connection.”

“Get both.”

“Both?”

“You didn’t spend a lot on souvenirs in Paris,” Greg replied. “There’s no two-foot replica of the Eiffel Tower taking up space in your suitcase.”

Aubrye’s lips turned up at the reminder of the touristy items they had seen for sale in the City of Lights. “I do have a scarf with some of the Parisian sights on it.”

“A silkish scarf,” Quinn put in. “One that you could wear to work. It’s useful as well as elegant.”

“I could use the Eiffel Tower at work.” At the dubious looks of the other two, Aubrye added, “It would make a solid paperweight.”

“But you didn’t buy yourself an over-sized paperweight,” Greg said. “I say your Nativity scene is about to get a lot bigger.”

Aubrye’s fingers lingered by her side a moment longer before she reached out and picked up the two dancers and woman with candy. She would regret it later if she walked out of there without the three pieces. She put the figurines down on the counter for the clerk to ring them up, but Quinn plucked the candy bearer back up.

“Is there something wrong with it?” Aubrye asked, already twisting back towards the shelves and preparing to go grab a replacement.

“Nope,” Quinn said. “I want to buy it as a gift for you.”

Aubrye’s brow crinkled. “Why?”

“Just because.”

The clerk carefully wrapped the purchases, and Aubrye followed the others out of the gift shop back into a sunny morning.

My santons are the three figurines on the left, picked up from travels in 1999 and 2016.

If you enjoyed this scene and are interested in more, Discord in Provence is available on Amazon in Kindle format. It is also enrolled in the Kindle Unlimited program.