“These people have come to talk to you about the woman who came to see you, the author,” Celine Martel explained in a loud voice. Vilette smiled faintly, then nodded.
“She is hard of hearing,” she told them in passing. “And she frequently dozes off. I will bring coffee.”
At first, Kris was certain that Vilette had dozed off again, eyes closed, her head bent slightly forward. She exchanged a look with James, uncertain whether to try waking her, or to wait until her daughter-in-law returned.
“Can you speak?” Vilette suddenly asked, angling a glance at them both with sharp eyes.
Come closer so that I can see you,” she said in heavily accented English. “What is your name?”
“Kris McKenna,” she replied, raising her voice as her daughter-in-law had told them. “You spoke with a friend of mine.” She gave Cate's name.
“Why are you shouting?” Vilette demanded.
Kris exchanged another slightly amused look with James.
“Who is this man with you?” Vilette demanded again, before Kris had fully recovered from the fact that, in spite of her daughter-in-law's description, apparently Vilette Moreau was not at all hard of hearing. Selective hearing was more like it.
“A friend,” Kris made the introduction.
Sharp blue eyes narrowed as Vilette stared past her. She slowly nodded.
“What is that?” she demanded. A thin, blue-veined hand pointed to the pastry box.
Kris set the box on the table beside her. “Monsieur Dumont from the market said they were a favorite of yours.”
“Open it,” Vilette said, ignoring everything else.
James retrieved the knife from his belt and stepped around Kris. He cut the string around the box.
Vilette Moreau watched him with avid curiosity. He went to fold the knife and she reached out a hand with surprising quickness. Her fingers closed around his hand. She slowly nodded, studying the tattoo of a sword on the inside of his wrist with the number below it.
“The warrior,” she said softly, then patted his hand. “What did Monsieur Dumont send?”
“Chocolate crème pastry,” he replied, lifting the lid.
Vilette clapped her hands together like an excited child. She took hold of his hand again, smiling as she looked up at him. Kris would have sworn she was flirting with him.
“We will have a party,” Vilette declared.
“Sister Margaret Alice, Julie Hennessey, and Vilette Moreau,” Kris whispered.
“Nuns to ninety-year-old women,” she commented as he passed the box to her. “Impressive.”
He made a sound that was probably slightly more civil that what he could have said.
“A party,” Vilette again exclaimed excitedly, then began singing to herself in French.
Was this what Cate found when she was here? A frail old woman, who drifted between fantasy and reality?
The frail old woman angled a look at her.
“Have you slept with him yet?” she asked. She turned, cocking her head, those blue eyes glinting with humor.
“We're...friends.” Kris was too surprised to come back with anything more.
“Sleep with him,” Vilette said with a wink. “You will not regret it.”
Kris sat back in the chair at the other side of the table. Vilette was old, her mind wandered? Now she knew where. She ignored the look James gave her.
