But who could be the third?
“Three?” I questioned her.
“Yes,” she said wistfully. “Charles, Giovanni, and my dear Ichiro.”
***
That evening after we returned home, our shoes leaving footprints in the path of white snow, Marthe came upon the steps to her apartment building and stopped, her head turning to me in the moonlight.
“I’ve lived here for so many years now...” She looked up. The sky was now filled with a spray of stars.
“To think where I came from, it’s rather amazing. I still can’t quite believe I’m here.”
It was true. It had always perplexed me how she was able to sustain herself after all these years. The money Charles had left her surely would have been spent by now.
“You’ve been able to maintain it all these years all by yourself. Not an easy feat.”
Marthe smiled.
“That’s the next part of the tale, Solange. But we’ll save it for another night.” Marthe had an incredible ability to always make one feel as though she had a secret up her sleeve.
“As you wish,” I said, smiling. I stood next to her as she fished into her purse for the key to the building.
She jiggled the contents and peered deeper into the little silk satchel with a golden handle.
“I think I’ve forgotten my key.” A girlish laugh escaped from her.
I glanced at my watch. It was half past ten.
“I’ll ring Gérard,” she said. “He’ll let us in.”
She went over to the call box and pressed the ground floor apartment’s buzzer.
“’Gérard, it’s Marthe de Florian. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’ve misplaced my key.”
“I’ll be right there, madame.” His voice sounded gravelly through the intercom.
Within a few minutes he was holding the door open for us.
“Thank you, Gérard,” Marthe said. “I apologize that it’s so late.”
“I was up with the children... They don’t want to go to bed tonight, and Francine has a cough and went to bed early. It is not a problem at all.”
I could see he was slightly bleary eyed and was trying to readjust his gaze on Marthe. Probably, like me, he had never seen her in trousers.
Marthe read his look of bewilderment.
“Yes, I’m not in chiffon tonight... ,” she said, smiling. “I was in the mood to experience a night out with my granddaughter as a modern woman.”
“I hardly recognized you,” he laughed. “And it’s been some time since I saw you out for the evening. Always it’s Giselle out doing your errands.”
“Yes.” Marthe nodded. “You know, better than anyone, I’ve always been a creature of habit, staying in my apartment with my things most of the time.”
He nodded and his eyes were soft and kind as they looked at Marthe.
“But every time I do see you, it’s hard for me to reconcile this young gentleman with a wife and family of his own. To me you’re still Pierre’s little boy.”
He smiled. “And you’re still the glamorous woman upstairs that Papa told me not to stare at when you came through the lobby. You always reminded me of a cherry blossom... floating by in your pale pink silk.”
