“Oui.I was a maid for Madame Aubrey’s family—this was one of their homes. Then I became madame’s lady’s maid. After the war began, many of the staff joined the army or left in the exodus. Now we are but three—the cook, the nanny, and me.”
Albert entered with an armload of books.
Claudette motioned to the next room. “In the study, please.”
Lucie should help, but the portraits enchanted her. Like Lizzy Bennet with the miniature of Darcy, Lucie couldn’t resist the glimpse into the soul of a baffling man. “Is he—is Monsieur Aubrey a good employer?”
“Good?” Claudette laughed. “He doesn’t know how to treat staff.”
Lucie ripped her gaze from Paul’s face to Claudette’s, her heart in her throat. “What do you mean?”
“I do not mean he is lax.” The housekeeper flapped her hand. “But he’s American and comes from new wealth, not old. He forgets we are staff, not family. Sometimes he asks us to dine with him. Of course, we decline.”
Lucie studied the portrait again, the easy grin and warm dark eyes. “He is kind? Fair?”
“But of course. Come along. I will show you where the books will be.”
In the study stood a large mahogany desk, leather chairs, and bookcases along the walls. Several shelves were empty.
Albert entered with another stack of books.
“Set them here.” Claudette pointed to a spot on the floor, then to cardboard boxes beside the desk. “On your way out, load these.”
Was Albert running an errand for Paul when driving Lucie home?
Claudette looked at Lucie and tipped her head. “Did Monsieur Aubrey not tell you? You sell used books, right?”
“Yes ...”
“These are books he no longer wants, books you can sell, in exchange for those you are loaning him.”
Lucie’s throat swelled shut, and she pressed her hand to her mouth. The books would fill several newly bared shelves in her store. “That is...” Her voice warbled, and she swallowed hard. “That is a generous gift. Please thank him for me.”
“I will.”
Lucie blinked until her vision cleared. All her life she’d been able to read people and discern character. But Paul Aubrey became a greater puzzle every day.
20
THURSDAY, JULY10, 1941
Josie stood on the scale in the hall in her underwear, and the nurse lowered the bar to the top of her head. “Ninety-two centimeters, fourteen point six kilograms. Come this way, Mr. Aubrey.”
Paul scooped up his barefoot daughter and followed the white-uniformed nurse through the halls of the American Hospital in Paris. If only Madame Coudray could have brought Josie to her doctor’s appointment as usual.
But Dr. Bentley Young’s office had called, insisting Paul needed to bring Josie—and to Bentley’s hospital office rather than the office in his home.
Not only would Paul have to endure his former friend’s scorn, but the antiseptic smell took him back to Simone’s bedside as she took her last labored breaths.
The nurse, an American woman in her sixties, glanced over her shoulder at Paul. “How unusual for a father to bring a child. Is her mother not available today?”
Why not just kick him in the gut? “Her mother passed away.” Just over a year ago. In this very building.
“I’m sorry.” The nurse pinched Josie’s cheek. “Never youmind, dear. Someday your father will remarry and you’ll have a new mommy.”
Paul held back a groan.Lord, save us from busybodies.
The nurse opened the door to the examination room. “Dr. Young will be with you shortly.”
