by Susan Finlay
“I guess.” He tried to get up, but he didn’t have the oomph that it took to do it. He let his hands drop down, and his shoulders drooped. “Maybe you should go without me. Tell everyone I have a migraine or whatever you want to tell them. I don’t care. You’ll have more fun if I’m not there.”
“Stop moping around, Robert. This is getting really old. Pull yourself together and try to act like you’re having a good time. We don’t want to alienate our daughter, too.”
She straightened his tie, then left the room.
He sighed, and then pushed himself off the bed. With a backward glance at the dresser, he joined his wife in the living room.
She took his jacket out of the front closet, handed it to him, and then got her own jacket. “I’m ready to go.” She looked back at him and said, “Maybe I should drive tonight.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
THREE DAYS AFTER Charles’s death, Josh led Paulette up the hill, one hand on her elbow to guide her, the other hand carrying a portable oxygen tank. Paulette had insisted she didn’t need it, and maybe she didn’t right now, but the doctor suggested they keep it available in case. Josh still hadn’t told her what had happened. Each time he thought the time was right, either something came up that stopped him, or he lost the nerve. He’d promised himself last night that he wouldn’t put it off any longer.
Today, he would sit her down and have the conversation that he’d been dreading.
When they entered the troglo, Gigi and the puppies almost knocked Paulette over in their excitement to see her.
“Oh, my, you’ve grown while I was gone. It hasn’t been that long, has it?
“Five days, if you include the day and the night in town. The dogs have been listening and waiting for you, their ears twisting and turning at every little sound.” Gigi wagged her tail fiercely and looked like she had a big grin on her face. The pups all scrambled around, trying to vie for position around Paulette.
“You’ve been here all this time, taking care of them?”
“Well, most of the time. I was away quite a bit for the first day or two. That’s something I need to talk to you about. I wanted to wait until we were back here in your own surroundings.”
She glanced up, her hand still on Gigi’s head. “That sounds ominous. Maybe I need some chocolates to help me through it?” She smiled thinly.
“Sorry. We could have stopped at the bakery on our way back from the hospital if you’d mentioned that earlier.” Domenic had driven them back to Mythe and dropped them off near the trail.
“I didn’t think of it until I got here. I always like to sit here in my chair and munch on the chocolates. Maybe we can have a fire going in the fireplace, though.”
“Okay. Why don’t you sit and rest awhile. I’ll start a fire and then go back down and get some chocolates and pastries.”
She sat down and clapped her hands together. “I’ll watch a bit of television until you get back.”
When Josh returned an hour later, Paulette woke and shook her head as if confused for a moment. “Oh, you’re back. I must have dozed off.” She turned off the TV. “What did you get me?”
He held out the package of chocolates, and she took two, then leaned back in her recliner.
“Can we talk now?”
“Oui.” She pulled her sweater close around her, trying to button the top button, but having no luck with her stiff fingers.
Josh reached up from his seat on the edge of the sofa and buttoned the sweater for her, then took hold of one of her hands and looked at her face. He’d considered many ways of telling her the bad news, practicing the speech in his head a million times, but the words were out of his reach as he looked in her eyes.
“This isn’t easy to talk about, Paulette. I’ve never done this before.” He hesitated, stumbling. “Uh, we, uh solved the murder case. It was a joint effort. I won’t bore you with the details, but Charles did in fact kill Franco, like we thought. Weird thing, though, he lied about the molestation. He killed him out of hatred and a twisted sense of revenge.”
“Revenge? If Franco didn’t molest him, then what . . . .”
“He found out that you and Franco had an affair and guessed that Franco was his biological father.” The police had verified that with a DNA test, but Paulette didn’t need to know that detail. “He was outraged and somehow thought he was acting out of loyalty to your husband, Rene, whom he thought of as his real father.”
Paulette looked shocked. “I—we broke up after a couple of months. Franco wanted to continue, but I told him I couldn’t keep doing that to Rene. I didn’t know for sure which of them—Rene or Franco— was the father of my child. I told myself it was Rene. I suppose over time I came to believe it—until I saw Franco again in London. This was after Rene had been gone for several years. I saw the resemblance then.”
“And then you resumed your relationship?”
“It seemed perfect at the time. We could become a real family.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Paulette. Charles got greedy, too. I think that was part of his reasoning. I found Franco’s studio, but the paintings were gone. After killing Franco, Charles stole his paintings and sold them for a high price, because, being deceased, his works were worth a lot more.”
Distraught but pensive, Paulette blurted, “But no one knew Franco was dead.”
Josh carefully told her the whole story, including the gendarmes having to shoot Charles and his not surviving surgery. Surprisingly, when he finished the story, she looked terribly sad and shed a few tears but didn’t fall apart, for which Josh was extremely relieved.
“Thank you for finding out the truth. It’s sad the way it turned out, but at least I know now.” She hesitated, then fear clouded her eyes. “Are the gendarmes going to arrest me? I hid the body and covered for Charles.”
“No, you’re okay.”
Relieved, she asked, “Is . . . is Franco still there—in the cave?”
“No, the gendarmes removed his remains. They buried him in Mythe’s cemetery. A proper grave. I can take you there if you want.”
“Yes, I would like that. Can we take flowers?”
Josh nodded.
“You said Charles didn’t have children or grandchildren? They were Therese’s?”
“Unfortunately, yes, that’s right. I’m sorry.” He handed her another chocolate and took one for himself. “On a brighter note, Domenic and Claudine are planning a big surprise for you tomorrow. I’ll let them tell you about it.”
She smiled a bittersweet smile. “It’s good that I have Domenic. Who would have thought I have a chance at a real mother-son relationship with my first-born after all these years? Thank you for that, too. I would never have known he was right here in town if it hadn’t been for you and Isabelle.”
“I hope we did the right thing. Sometimes I wonder if we should have left things the way they were.”
She patted his arm. “You did the right thing. Something I should have done a long time ago.”
He nodded.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Josh helped Paulette walk back into town. They bought a wreath and a vase of flowers, and took them to the cemetery. Josh had attended the quiet memorial service while Paulette was in the hospital, so he knew where Franco’s grave was located. Josh helped Paulette kneel down and set the wreath and flowers next to the marker.
“Will he get a nice headstone?”
“I’m not sure. They’re expensive. The town took up a collection to pay for his burial, but I don’t know if they got enough money for a nice headstone.”
“I can pay for it. I owe him that much for making him wait all these years.”
“We can arrange for that, I’m sure. But don’t feel too bad, Paulette. You kept him safe in your cave, protected from the wild animals who could otherwise have dug him up if Charles had buried him on the hillside. Remember that wild boar.”
“I never thought of it like that. You’re right. All right, I feel a little better but I still wan
t to pay for a nice headstone, something with an artistic flair. He would like that.”
Josh smiled and helped her back to her feet.
“Oh. I have a surprise for you this morning.” Paulette looked over, a question on her face. “I made you an appointment to visit the hairdresser. Martinique told me she’s going to make you beautiful. Then I’m taking you to the hotel to see Domenic and Claudine and find out what their surprise is.”
Josh and Domenic had discussed whether or not to tell her ahead of time, and decided to wait until she got to the hotel. Their three children and ten grandchildren were having a family reunion in a restaurant in Paris. They’d reserved a private room at the restaurant, and Domenic and Claudine were taking Paulette there by car in three hours.
“I know what it is,” Paulette said. “I won’t spoil the surprise, though.”
Josh smiled, not sure whether she’d figured it out or not, but it didn’t really matter. She was smiling and moving faster than he’d seen her move in weeks.
In the salon the stylist, Martinique, with whom Josh had already discussed Paulette, gushed over Paulette and said, “We will make you feel like your old self. These hands know exactly what to do.” She undid Paulette’s bun at the back of her head and let the hair cascade down, touching it with hands and studying the texture. “We can cut it short and set it in curlers to give you a soft style like you had when you were younger.”
Paulette tilted her head. “How did you know that?”
“I’ve seen pictures of you in my parents’ magazines. They save every magazine they get, you know. Some of the magazines had articles about the plays you starred in. Beautiful pictures. You must be proud.”
“Oh, I would love short hair again. It’s not easy washing this stringy long hair and getting it dried.”
Martinique smiled, then motioned Josh toward the door. “Shoo now! You can come back in an hour and a half to get her. Au revoir.”
Isabelle was working in the bakery, he knew. He’d already made plans to meet her at her apartment at one o’clock, after he dropped off Paulette at the hotel. He had been invited to the family reunion, thanked them, but had declined, telling Domenic and Claudine that it was their special time with Paulette and he didn’t want to intrude.
He strode over to the café and ordered an espresso and a croissant, and thumbed through the photos on his camera while he waited on Paulette.
At the appointed time, Josh returned to the salon and stared in stunned silence at the transformation. Martinique stood beside Paulette, arms crossed, and grinning.
“Oh my God, Paulette, you look beautiful. Domenic and Claudine won’t recognize you.”
She turned to Martinique. “Isn’t that just like a man—gives a woman a compliment while insulting her.”
Josh frowned. “Huh? Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.” He felt heat rising up his neck. How many times had he heard his father say the same thing to his mother? Crap.
The women broke into laughter.
“This is one of the best days I’ve had in years,” Paulette said. “What’s next?”
“We’re going shopping for a new dress. We don’t have a lot of time, though. Only one hour.”
At the boutique, after half an hour of browsing and not finding anything she liked, Paulette moaned. “I don’t like these modern styles. I guess I’ll have to go in this old thing.” She tugged on her skirt and pouted.
“I have something you might like,” the shopkeeper said, pulling out a dress from behind the counter. She handed it to Paulette and winked at Josh.
Paulette’s mouth fell open. She looked from the shopkeeper to Josh and back again. “This looks familiar.”
“Your friend here brought me one of your old dresses that he found in a trunk in your house. He asked me to make some modifications to it. I hope you like it. Would you like to try it on?”
Paulette nodded, tears filling her eyes, and looked over at Josh. Josh just smiled.
“Do you need any help in the dressing room?” the woman asked.
“I don’t think so.”
When she came out a few minutes later, she rushed over to Josh and hugged him. “Thank you. Now this is most definitely the best day.”
“Are you ready to go see Domenic?”
She nodded.
The surprised looks on Domenic’s and Claudine’s faces when they saw Paulette ten minutes later were priceless, but the look on Paulette’s face a few minutes later when they told her about the trip to Paris and the family reunion was even better—and it was caught by Josh on his camera. He’d brought his camera today for this very reason. This might be the cover photo of his book—no, scratch that, her book.
“We’ll stay overnight at the Hotel d’ Orange,” Domenic said. “Here’s the phone number in case you need to get in touch.” He handed it to Josh. “Are you sure you won’t join us?”
“Yeah, I have plans already. Have fun.”
“We’ll have her back home by tomorrow evening or the following morning at the latest. If she feels up to some sightseeing, we may do some of that.”
Josh waved as they got into the car and disappeared down the street. God, he was going to miss her. It’s only a day and a half, he reminded himself. His eyes moistened. If I’m sad about her going away for a short trip, what am I going to do when she— He couldn’t finish the thought.
He turned around and walked back toward the center of town. In minutes he stood outside the bakery, understanding now how Isabelle felt after her brother passed away.
He pushed the button on the intercom, and she buzzed him in. It was one o’clock and she was expecting him.
She opened the door. “My goodness, I thought a herd of elephants was climbing the stairs.”
“Sorry, I was just anxious to see you.” He pulled her close, embracing her and then kissed her passionately.
“Let’s sit in the living room,” she said afterwards, breathless. “Uh, tell me how today went with Paulette. Did she like the dress?”
“You were right. It was perfect. I’ve never seen her so beautiful or so happy.” He went on and described the scene at the cemetery, the visit to the salon, and the visit to the dress shop. When he got to the end, where she disappeared down the road in Domenic’s car, he let his tears flow.
Isabelle leaned over and hugged Josh. “You will make many more memories with her when she gets back and the two of you work together for her book. She told me on the telephone that she has more diaries and will get them for me to translate. But more than anything, she wants to tell you personally about her life and adventures. She thinks of you as her son or grandson, you know. You’ve bonded with each other. That’s an amazing thing.”
He nodded, unable to speak.
Changing the subject, she asked, “Did the doctor tell you anything more? Did he say how long she has left?”
Josh cleared his throat and wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “He said it’s hard to predict sometimes. Could be a few weeks, could be a couple of months.”
It was her turn to nod. She looked toward her brother’s bedroom door.
Josh said, “I think I understand now what you’ve gone through. I want to help you. Together with me, you can face those two bedrooms. It won’t be easy, but you can open them up, sort through the belongings, and maybe help someone else by donating items. I’ll have to do the same thing with Paulette’s things, and when it’s time, I’ll need help with that.”
“You’re right.” She sighed. “It’s time I moved on. Thank you.” She squeezed his hand. “You said you will have to go through Paulette’s belongings? Won’t that be Domenic’s job?”
“Well, yes, partially. Paulette, Domenic, and I sat down together in her attorney’s office down the street from the hospital yesterday. She made a new will. She wanted to split everything equally between Domenic and me. I said no, it should all go to her son, but Domenic argued with me over it. Said that at the least, the troglo and its contents should go to me. He said
he already had a home—the hotel—and he would get the land where his grandparents had lived, which he might sell or might build a new house on.”
“So you’re getting the troglo and everything in it?”
“Well, not quite everything. I told him he should get the antique paintings and gold coins, since they belonged with the house and vineyard. We agreed that Franco’s Swiss francs should go to Therese and her family.”
“What did Paulette say?”
“Nothing. At the end, she just smiled and nodded. I guess that says she was happy with it. I told Domenic he could have the photo albums and whatever other family items he wanted after I finish with them. He said we could go through some of that stuff together.”
“That makes sense.”
They both sat quiet for several minutes, thinking about everything. Meanwhile, Apollo took advantage by jumping up on the sofa and laying down between them, soaking up the attention.
Looking over at Isabelle, Josh asked, “So, are you ready to get to work on those two rooms?”
“I think I am.”
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Josh sat on his bed in the troglo, staring at his cell phone and trying to summon the courage to make the call. His father. How long had it been since they’d talked? He couldn’t remember. It seemed like years. Seeing Isabelle’s parents’ clothing, their hairbrushes, their wallets and keys—the everyday items that everyone took for granted—had almost sent him into sobs. What would he do if he never saw his own parents again? Could he carry on and forget them? Could he stay away as long as Charles had? Could he hold a grudge that long? Did he really want to?
He took a deep breath and blew it out, then tapped on his father’s name in his address book.
“Hey, Dad. It’s me. Josh. Can we talk?”
His father made a slight sound and started sobbing. Josh waited, his own eyes filling with tears again.
“I . . . I’m so damn happy to hear your voice, son,” he choked. “I thought . . . I thought you would never call again. I’m sorry for what I did to you—to us.”