“I don’t know about Cyprus, but after Anne married the Duke of Savoy, she lived in Chambéry,” Charlie says.
Just a forty-minute drive from here!
Suddenly, I remember something. “There’s the Castle of the Dukes of Savoy in Chambéry. It is publicly owned these days, I believe.”
“It’s the seat of the departmental prefecture,” she confirms. “It also happens to be the castle where Anne’s daughter Charlotte was born and raised, before she married King Louis XI.”
“That makes the Castle of the Dukes of Savoy a home associated with both Anne and Charlotte!”
“Yes, it does,” Charlie concurs with a grin.
I try to curb my enthusiasm. “I should start with the residences linked to Anne’s own childhood, don’t you think? Like, the place where she was born.”
Puckering up her mouth, Charlie shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Mom was obsessed with Queen Charlotte. She called the key ‘Queen Charlotte’s key,’ not ‘Anne of Cyprus’s key.’ If I were you, I’d start with the Castle of the Dukes of Savoy.”
I mull over her argument for a few seconds. “It follows.”
“Let me scan and email you the manuscript.” She goes to the adjacent room and returns with a spiral-bound book in A4 paper size, no more than a centimeter thick.
“Do you mind if I scan it myself, directly to my phone?” I ask her.
Her eyes crinkle up. “You don’t trust the email to deliver it to you?”
“It’s just faster,” I lie.
I can’t give her a truthful answer as it would require that I tell her about Kurt. Given his means and determination, I don’t trust any email service to protect a message sent to me from his prying eyes.
“Of course.” Charlie sets the copied book in front of me.
I scan page after page, realizing what a pain it’s going to be to read it. The text is handwritten. Besides, it’s composed in old French, what with it being a copy of an older book. If I get it to Mount Evor, I’m sure a trained medievalist can translate it into modern French and type it up for me. But that would mean an additional pair of eyes, and an increased risk of a leak.
I guess I’ll have to decipher it myself.
After I’ve scanned the last page, I return the book to Charlie. “Thank you so much for your help!”
“It’s the least I can do, after what you did for me,” she replies.
I rise to my feet.
Charlie, too, stands up. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”
I hesitate, glancing at my watch. Aside from researching the places connected with Queen Charlotte of France and her mother Anne of Cyprus, I have no plans for tonight. That research can wait until tomorrow. Objectively, there is nothing stopping me from staying for dinner, and beyond.Charlie and I are destined to be with each other, aren’t we?
I should stay.
“As much as I’d love to, I should get back to my hotel,” I say with an apologetic smile.
“I understand.”
She seems pleased. Relieved, even.
That can’t be, can it?I was under the impression she liked me. Besides, why would she suggest that I stay for dinner if she doesn’t want me to? Was her relief intentional to conceal her disappointment?
Charlie walks me to the door, and we say our goodbyes.
In the fading light of the day, I head back to the parking garage where I left the car. When I get there, it’s almost empty. No surprise, given that the nearby mall and the shops around have closed for the day. I descend the stairs in the light of the fluorescent lamps, my footsteps echoing through the stairwell.
As I’m unlocking my car, I glance in the side view mirror. My trained eye catches something. It’s a human figure lurking among the stark shadows on the concrete walls. I look closer. The figure appears to be a man in his twenties or thirties. His silhouette looks strangely familiar. I’ve seen him before… at my hotel!
