“It isn’t what you think, what any of them think.” He rubbed his forehead. How could he lose this new source of peace in his life? He couldn’t lose it. He couldn’t.
Paul slapped his hand to his thigh and leveled his gaze at Mr. Pendleton. “I know you’re not ordained, but do you follow the same rules of confidentiality as a pastor?”
The director blinked and sat back in his red leather chair. “I do.”
“This room. Is it secure? Any chance for the Germans to install listening devices?”
“Listening—of course not. What is this about?”
Paul shoved up out of the chair and paced the office, rubbing his mouth. He trusted Mr. Pendleton, but he had to be careful, not just for his own sake, but for his employees, and even for the safety of Mr. Pendleton.
“You seem agitated.” The director slid a silver cigarette case across the desk. “Would you care for a smoke?”
Paul planted both hands on the desk and leaned close to Mr. Pendleton. “I can’t tell you all that I’m doing. Too much is at stake. And you mustn’t breathe one word of it to anyone. Do you understand? Do you promise?”
Deep-set eyes widened. “I promise.”
Paul sorted his words. “The United States military asked me to remain in France and keep my factory running. It’s for the good of our country. That’s all I’ll say on that matter.”
“That ... seems wise.”
“And in my factory, I do what I can to hinder the Germans.”
“Are you—you’re in the resistance?” Mr. Pendleton whispered.
“The resistance?” Paul rubbed his thumbs on the polished desktop. “Nothing official. No connection to any group. I just—I do what I can.”
Mr. Pendleton assessed him for a weighty moment. “I’m glad to hear. This is the Paul Aubrey I remember.”
Paul collapsed into his chair, his arms limp on the armrests. “I shouldn’t have said that much.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game.”
He was. “Please? If anything happens to me, Josie’s nanny has instructions to take her to the US Embassy in Vichy. I have friends there. They’ll get her home. But she’ll need permission to cross the demarcation line into Vichy France. I think they’d let her across for a reason like that, but could you assist if she needs help? Please?”
Mr. Pendleton leaned forward. “You have my word, Paul.”
The use of his given name somehow sealed it, and the director’s respect seeped into the raw void of Paul’s heart.
“As for church,” the director said, “I’ll see what I can do.”
“You can’t tell anyone. I have to be seen as a collaborator.”
“As a sinner, yes.” Mr. Pendleton lifted a bit of a smile. “I’ll explain this simple truth. If I were to ban sinners from this church, the pews would be empty. So would the pulpit.”
Paul chuckled. A simple truth, easily forgotten.
19
MONDAY, JUNE30, 1941
At the cash register Lucie opened the notebook she called her perpetual calendar. She’d numbered the pages one through thirty and listed daily tasks, spreading out the unpleasantness.
Page thirty read “Make sure rent is paid,” and she groaned. Paying the rent might be Bernadette’s job, but it was Lucie’s responsibility.
With her nose in a book, Bernadette swished a feather duster over the shelves in the children’s section.
Maybe Lucie could ask after lunch. No. In ballet she had to work through routine barre exercises before dancing. In the store she had routine work too.
