Had Gracie given up on him?
Reaching into the box, Gemma unearthed their marriage certificate. They'd married in Caribou, Maine, in January of 1945.
Gemma stilled. January 1945. How was that possible?
Paul had still been in France at that time, writing these tormented letters. Gracie would still have been in D.C. at her Code Girl post.
“Something went wrong between us,”Gracie had said to Gemma today. She'd been absolutely right. Something had gone dreadfully wrong between Gracie and Paul during the final year of America's involvement in the war.
But what?
And how, exactly, was Gemma to dig up the truth?
* * *
Two days later, Gemma received a text from Cedric.
Her body jerked at the sight of it as if she'd stuck tweezers into an electrical outlet.
Cedric
Can your boyfriend join us in Bangor next weekend? If so, Vincent and I will take the jet and meet up with you then.
His text had arrived in the middle of her workday morning. She was sitting at the desk in her second-story studio, experimenting with notes of Casablanca lily and pomegranate.
For a couple of minutes, she did nothing but absorb the magnitude of his message and what it might mean.
Jude had been waiting, in hopes that Cedric would initiate, and that strategy had paid off.
It was Friday and Cedric wanted to meet next weekend. A week from now.
She set aside her fragrance-testing blotter paper and teat-pipettes. Her vision rested on the familiar view of rooftops and treetops as she dialed Jude. Today’s soft sky looked like a watercolor in shades of gray.
“Jude Camden speaking,” he said even though he knew who was calling him and even though she knew who she was calling.
“Cedric just reached out through a text.” She read Cedric's message aloud to him.
“Very good,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Please wait an hour before replying to make it feel believable that you've had time to call me where I work in New York, and I've had time to confirm that I'll be able to travel to Bangor. You can tell Cedric next weekend works, but that you do have some plans on your calendar. It will strike him as suspicious if you act as if your entire schedule is clear for him.Doyou have some existing plans?”
“I do.”
“What are they?”
“Kickboxing class Saturday at ten, then a baby shower for a friend. Sunday night my brother's getting an award and we're going out after for a family dinner.”
“Okay, go ahead and communicate your schedule to him. If it turns out he's only available when you're busy, tell him you'll see if you can reschedule your plans since the chance to see him is such a rare one. Then let more time pass, then tell him you were able to make it work.”
“Got it.”
“Please show the usual amount of excitement regarding this chance to see him again. No more. No less.”
“Okay.” Her cousin Cedric was a criminal and now here she was, in the thick of an honest-to-goodness FBI operation.An. FBI. Operation.
“Gemma?” Jude's voice was smooth and masculine. The sound of her name on his lips slid into the center of her, where it formed heated swirls. She'd missed that voice.
“Yes?”
“You've got this.”
