Groans and whines, and the pecking children plopped to the floor, including Josie Aubrey.
“Simon says, ‘Flap your arms and peck and strut like a chicken.’”
Along the wall, parents waited to collect their chicks. And Lt. Emil Wattenberg watched with an amused smile, although the parents kept a wide berth from the uniformed figure.
Only Paul Aubrey hadn’t arrived. To avoid the other adults, he brought Josie early and picked her up late. And at church when Josie ran to Lucie, he hung back in the distance, alone.
He might be a rogue, but he had nobility that touched her almost as much as his pain and loneliness. If only that nobility ran all the way through.
The children stared at her expectantly. Oh yes. The game.“Simon says, ‘Spin and spin, but don’t fall down.’” She sprang to pointe and spun inchaînéturns down an imaginary line, her heels close together, spotting the plant on the mantel with each turn so she wouldn’t get dizzy.
A tall young man in a brown cap walked to the mantel, met Lucie’s twirling gaze, held up a book, and set it on the mantel. A résistant with a message.
They were supposed to hand the books to her and never leave them lying around. Lucie hopped out of the turn and gave the man a quick glare, but he ignored her and left the store.
Childish shrieks grabbed her attention. Only Margie Hartman remained standing and spinning. The others lay tumbled on the floor.
Lucie clapped her hands. “Very good, Margie. You’re the winner.”
Everyone applauded, and Margie blushed.
“That’s all for today, boys and girls,” Lucie said. “I’ll see you next week.”
The children ran to her for hugs and thank-yous, and Lucie responded to each while edging toward the fireplace.
“We won’t be here next week.” Margie’s hazel eyes brimmed with tears. “Or—or ever again.”
Betty Hartman rested her hands on her daughters’ shoulders. “We’re going home to Chicago. The food situation is horrible. It isn’t healthy for children. And it isn’t safe.” She tipped her head toward Wattenberg.
Wattenberg, who stood by the mantel, who reached for the book.
Every impulse screamed to leap in agrand jetéand spirit the book away, but that would only call more attention to it.
Lucie properly tuned herself to the Hartmans, and she hugged the two little redheads to her side. “I’ll miss you.”
Wattenberg read the front cover, flipped to the back cover.
“Also,” Betty said, “with so many Americans leaving, myhusband’s law practice is suffering. I’m sure you have the same problems.”
“I do.” But falling sales would be the least of her problems if the German officer discovered the note. Although he appreciated the arts and had alerted her to the changes in the Otto List, she didn’t trust him.
“Let’s go, girls. You’ll see Miss Girard one last time tomorrow in church.”
After the Hartmans left, two mothers remained chatting, and Josie Aubrey played with the other children.
Wattenberg read the inside flap.
Lucie donned a polite expression and joined the lieutenant. “Oh dear. Customers can be so careless, leaving books lying around. I’ll put that away.” She held out her hand.
He studied the cover. “Charles Dickens. I have not heard of this book—Barnaby Rudge. Is it good?”
She had to get the book. “It isn’t one of his best. Have you read Dickens?”
“I have not.”
“You should start with something better. Let me see what I have.” She dashed to the fiction section, praying she had lots of Dickens titles.
She did, and she slid one off the shelf. “A Tale of Two Cities—it’s set in Paris and one of his best works. I also haveGreat Expectations, Oliver Twist, several others you’d enjoy more thanBarnaby Rudge.” She held outTwo Citiesin one hand and extended the other forBarnaby.
