Johan and Marguerite – 1960
The small coastal village of Carmel was everything they hoped it would be. Turning onto Ocean Avenue they slowly drove towards the Pacific Ocean without a clue or plan as to where they would stay let alone spend the first night of their honeymoon. But judging from the quaint atmosphere and tired from the six-hour drive from LA, they wouldn’t have minded sleeping under the stars with the convertible top down on their VW bug, parked on Carmel Bay beach.
It was 4:30 in the afternoon and they were anxious to stretch their legs and explore. Driving down Monteverde Street passed 7th Avenue they saw what could only be referred to as a picturesque French chateau complete with a tattered wooden sign hanging from a rusted wrought iron bracket. It was bordered on both sides with overgrown climbing green vines. The weathered sign, which had seen better days, was adorned with worn calligraphy that read L’Auberge Carmel – 1929.
“My God Johan, look at that, it’s beautiful and close to the bay. Mary Austin surely must have stayed there.”
“Babe, we can’t afford that, let’s keep looking.” But its European style architecture and historic charm was calling to her soul.
“Just park in front for a second, let me check it out.” Johan pulled the car to the curb and shut it off as Marguerite jumped out and went in through the magnificently carved wood and wrought iron double doors. She looked back at him, winked and stuck out her tongue with such excitement on her face as they slowly creaked open. He was glad to get out and stand up, it was a long drive.
Looking around at Carmel’s lovely splendor, combined with the salt sea air and the setting sun, he was in the presence of something special. Experiencing the same feeling of joy he had when entering Disneyland or seeing the red clay infield of the newly opened Dodger Stadium for the first time. He just added a new memory to the list of one’s he would never forget. After about ten minutes Marguerite ran back out and immediately gave Johan a passionate kiss. Surprised, he asked,
“What happened?”
“Nothing available.”
Exhausted and disheartened, they both sat down on the sidewalk curb. The light cast from the California dusk on her beautiful smiling face along with her long brown hair in a ponytail reinforced how lucky he was to be in love and share his life with her. Johan brushed the hair out from the front of his brides’ red glasses, consoling, never wanting her to be disappointed.
“It’s okay honey, at least you tried.”
“It was amazing. I walked in there and was transported to another time. The antique French provincial furniture, soft violin music and the aroma of coq au vin from the kitchen were incredible. Mrs. Anton, the matronly lady at the front desk was very kind. She reminded me of that Aunt Bee woman on that TV show you like.” Standing up, shaking his head and chuckling Johan said,
“Well Mrs. Dufresne, shall we keep looking?
“Well, actually Mr. Dufresne, we’re booked here in the Honeymoon Suite for three nights,” as Marguerite jumped and squealed with excitement, her arms wrapped around his neck, so pleased she could spring this surprise on him. Laughing in disbelief, he looked into her big blue eyes and asked,
“Whoa, how did you manage that?”