“They were up all night playing chess. I do not think my grandfather won so many games.”
Games? More than one. That explained the empty bed this morning.
“He has gone to the village. The cell coverage is better there,” Valentine explained.
More messages? Kris thought.
“He will be back soon.”
Albert made a sound from the adjoining room. He'd obviously heard everything Valentine said.
“If I want coffee, I will drink coffee—strong, black, as I always have. What do the doctors know? I am eighty-five years old. I will die someday. They will die someday. Now, bring me more coffee!”
They exchanged looks. “Eighty-five years old, but sometimes I think he is no more than ten years old.”
“Are you going to make me come into the kitchen?” he called out.
Valentine sighed. “You see what it is like.” She took down another mug from the shelf.
“I'll take it to him,” Kris volunteered.
“Set it there,” Albert said without looking up. He made a gesture with a wave of his hand. His other hand rubbed hisbearded chin as he concentrated on the board in front of him. He reached for a piece, the game obviously left unfinished.
Kris frowned as she studied the chessboard.
“That move will leave your pawn unprotected.”
Albert slowly looked up at her.
“And a counter-move will open up your queen and you won't have any defense,” she added.
He looked back down at the board, and frowned.
“Do you play?”
“Some. My brother taught me,” she added, her voice softening at the memory.
“Then sit. We will play until James returns and see how well your brother taught you.”
She set the mug down beside his and slipped into the chair across from his. At a glance, she picked up several moves that had been made earlier. James Morgan was a formidable opponent.
“Your friend is a good player,” Albert commented, seeing the way she studied the board. “The last move was mine.”
“They played most of the night,” Valentine explained. “Neither of them slept!” The last was aimed at her grandfather.
“Bah!” he replied. “I can sleep when I am dead.”
Valentine shook her head and threw up her hands. “Now you see what I must deal with,” she said, in a way that suggested she wouldn't have it any other way.
Several comments in French flowed back and forth between her and her grandfather. Kris couldn't keep up. Instead she studied the moves James had made earlier before leaving for the village, then made a move of her own. It was a classic defensive move, but it also set up the next one.
“Qu'est-ce que c'est!” Albert exclaimed, his gaze suddenly drawn back to the board.
“What is this?” he demanded.
“Your move,” Kris replied. Valentine smothered back a sound very much like laughter, then covered it with a cough.
“I think you have met your match,” she told her grandfather.
