“Well, no,” Gerry said slowly. “Not being a fanatic or obsessive or anything. I think I can handle bringing my family back for a visit from time to time.”
They were both quiet a moment. Gerry smiled at Darla and waved to his daughter from where they sat with Laurent.
“I forgot to ask you how you knew in the first place that it was Stump,” he said, quietly.
“Well, it wasn’t the ‘first place’ unfortunately,” Maggie said. “But Patti’s scarf ring was what made it all click for me.”
“Her what?”
“It’s something women use sometimes as an accessory with scarves. Patti lived by them. Brownie had found it in the hallway the afternoon Elise was...was killed and he’d pocketed it. The cops never even bothered to ask him to empty his pockets. Anyway, he gave it to me later, thinking it might be important only he didn’t know what it was. I knew it was a scarf ring, even a familiar one, but it wasn’t until I was sitting in the cemetery at Montmarte that it finally came to me where I’d seen it.”
Gerry shook his head.
“Yeah, only about a million times stuck on Patti’s graceful bosom. And that’s when I knew.” Maggie rubbed her arms as if a terrible chill had come into the room. “She’d been there that day. She’d been waiting for me to come home. Elise got in the way.” She shivered.” Soon as I made the office connection—Dierdre and all that—well, the rest of it fell into place.”
“You got the Laurent thing sorted out yet?” Gerry asked, switching the subject as he paid for his purchases at the counter. Candy bars, magazines, chewing gum, a paperback book.
“He’s told so many lies about so many things,” Maggie said. “It’s hard for me to get past that. He’s got a lot of good reasons for much of it all, and some very lame reasons for other stuff.” She made a helpless gesture with her hand. “My folks like him...”
“I suppose that’s good.”
“He’s not what I thought he was. Not as wonderful...and not as awful.” She ran a hand through her combed hair, knocking loose a restraining barrette. “Of all the things he’s lied about,” Maggie said, watching Laurent as he talked with Darla, “I do believe he loves me.”
“Quelle surprise, mon amie,” he said smiling.
Maggie smiled too, then gave him a hug.
“Good-bye, boss,” she said. “Show ‘em how to do real American retail advertising down there.”
“I fully intend to. The starburst price-point and the use of oversized type is about to arrive in the land of sheep and honey.” He grinned. “Antipodal advertising will never be quite the same again.”
“Nor on this side of the pond either, dearest.”
They smiled fondly at each other.
******
The little dog cocked its head, forcing a small scruffy ear to flop into one of its eyes. It sat, attentive and enduring, in Nicole’s lap. The little girl’s small fingers pressed into the animal’s fur.
“Grandmère says she’s got fleas,” Nicole said, her face screwed into a mask of serious concern.
I’m sure Grandmère is delighted about that, Maggie thought with amusement. Dressed in a forest green velvet tunic with black leggings, Maggie stood by the fireplace in the Brymsley library and watched the flames. Christmas was a week away and she had never remembered her parents’ home—all dressed for the season—looking or feeling more enchanting. The whole mansion smelled of fir boughs and toasted cinnamon sticks with the scent of even greater, impending, wonders wafting on the air. Maggie moved from her position by the fireplace and sat down next to Nicole on her parents’ overstuffed settee. The puppy looked at her with solemn, large brown eyes. She touched its soft fur.
“I have a cadeau for you, Nicole.” Maggie said. “An early present.”
Nicole looked up questioningly into Maggie’s eyes, her little hands momentarily stopped in their incessant searching of the dog’s coat.
“Is it from Maman?” she asked.
Maggie bit her lip. “In a way.” she said, placing the glittering bracelet of charms in Nicole’s narrow lap of swansdown and cashmere. “It belonged to Elise when she was a little girl.”
Nicole touched the tiny charms with her fingers, then delicately lifted up the bracelet to watch the tinkling figurines. An ice skater, a ballerina, a wee gold sailing ship, a miniature horse and rider, a typewriter, a Cocker Spaniel dog, an easel.
Nicole looked into Maggie’s eyes and smiled.
“Merci, Aunt Maggie,” she said.
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