He’d kept his word, and her heart warmed. Perhaps they could spend the afternoon together, strolling along the Seine or in the Tuileries, where Josie could play.
Mr. Pendleton dismissed the dwindling congregation of American expatriates. From Lucie’s place on the aisle, she could casually wait for Paul to come her way.
“Hello, Lucie.” Alice Young kissed her on the cheek, took her arm, and swept her down the aisle. “Wasn’t that a wonderful talk?”
“It was.” Lucie glanced over her shoulder.
His face in profile to her, Paul talked to Mr. Pendleton and accompanied him down the aisle.
“So what do you say?” Alice asked.
“Pardon?”
Alice laughed. “I asked if you’d like to come to our house for dinner. Cook managed to get a fine chicken.” She finished in a whisper. One didn’t askhowsomeone obtained food nowadays.
As much as Lucie would have enjoyed meat two days in a row, she didn’t want to limit her options. “Thank you, but I have plans.”
The ladies stepped outside into the courtyard, and Lucie frowned. Dark clouds threatened those plans.
“Where did Bentley go? He must be chatting. You know how men are.” Alice winked.
Lucie laughed, and the ladies crossed the tiled courtyard to a spot near the red-brick parish house.
“There he is,” Alice said. “With the Hartmans.”
Dr. Young came out of the sanctuary, talking to a couple with two young redheaded girls.
Soon Paul appeared with Mr. Pendleton. Josie pulled on Paul’s hand, said something to him, and he nodded. She ran toward the Hartman girls.
But Mr. Hartman pulled his children away and left Josie standing by herself. Bereft.
What on earth? Lucie sucked in a breath.
Paul stood alone with Mr. Pendleton, unusual since people swamped the director after a service. Then Paul caught sight of his daughter, and his face fell as low as hers.
Lucie had to find out what was happening. “Excuse me, Al—”
“I can’t believe he’s here. The nerve of him,” Alice said in a stern tone that defied her sweet nature.
Lucie tore her gaze from her new friend to her old. “Who? What do you mean?”
“Paul Aubrey.” Alice said his name as if it tasted of rotten fish.
“Paul Aubrey?” Lucie whispered, his name sweet on her own tongue.
Alice took Lucie’s arm and turned away from Paul. “You’ve heard of him, haven’t you? Aubrey Automobiles?”
Aubrey ... Automobiles? He’d said he was an engineer. When he’d said “my company,” she’d assumed he worked for it, not that he owned it. “He—he makes cars?”
“Before the war he did. Now he makes trucks, tanks, and airplane engines for the Nazis.”
Lucie’s eyes hurt, her stomach, but she’d known Alice for years, trusted her. “He’s a collaborator?”
“And he has the nerve to show his face at church. His former wife would be appalled at what he’s become. They were good friends of ours.”
The pain in her stomach grew, and Lucie glanced across the courtyard. Paul held Josie and patted her back. Josie was snubbed because her father was snubbed. And he deserved snubbing.
“I—it’s time for me to go,” Lucie choked out.
