I give her a rueful smile. “That sums him up, doesn’t it?”
She returns my smile, and we dive back into the ocean of paper and ink where each document is a potential key to finding the key. Nothing disturbs the silence filled with the soft rustle of pages turning and the occasional creak of a chair. We move through the material slowly and methodically, careful not to overlook the elusive clue.
As the afternoon wears on, my initial enthusiasm is tempered by the realization of the enormity of the task. To break the monotony, Audrey and I share a bit of small talk from time to time, a comment about a fascinating tidbit here, or a curious anecdote there. Every once in a while, we find something that may be a clue… if you stretch the definition of a clue to include anything that seems unclear. We bookmark those things and make notes.
Whenever my mind wanders off, it does so in Henri’s direction. But I nip those forays in the bud. If I let myself doubt his resolve to come clean about the conspiracy, now that Julian stole his thunder, I’ll lose heart. And I won’t be able to focus on the search anymore.
The sun embarks on a downward trajectory. I glance up at the clock—it’s past six. We skipped lunch. I’m wasted.
Don’t give up, Gigi! Don’t even think about it!
A knock on the door pulls me from a dusty monograph.
Henri plants himself in the doorway. “How’s the search going?”
“We might have a few potential leads.” I stretch to relieve the stiffness in my shoulders. “But nothing to write home about.”
His gaze softens. “Sounds like you guys need a break.”
“I need a bathroom break, too,” Audrey says, standing up.
Henri steps away from the door, his eyes on me. “How about a walk in the park?”
Hoping that he’s ready to talk about the conspiracy, I turn to Audrey. “I’ll be back in an hour or so.”
“Your Highness,” she begins, “all I need is five minutes, and I can?—”
The look I cast her makes her press her lips together. She knows I’m prepared to pull rank on this one, so she doesn’t insist.
“Don’t worry, Audrey,” Henri says. “I’ll keep Her Highness safe, and I’ll return her into your care in an hour.”
She releases a sigh. “In that case, is it OK if I take a quick nap while you’re stretching your legs? I haven’t felt this drained since being on night guard duty in the army.”
“Of course,” I encourage her. “Knock yourself out!”
“Thanks!” She dashes to the restroom.
I follow Henri out the door. We step from the building to the park that’s bathed in the soft glow of late afternoon. The air is fresh and fragrant with the scent of flowers, a welcome change from the library’s musty atmosphere.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“You’ll see.”
All right.He’s probably taking me to a spot where we can have our crucial heart-to-heart with maximum privacy.
The time we get there, I can as well ask a key-related question! “Do you know of a family crypt outside the estate?”
“Just the one here on the estate,” he answers. “Dana’s team already searched it thoroughly.”
“But maybe you’ve heard a rumor and discarded it as something unlikely? Maybe it wasn’t a crypt but a solo tomb of an ancestor on your father’s side buried in some foreign land?”
“My only paternal ancestor not in our crypt is my great-grandfather. He was a pilot who fought with de Gaulle, but his plane went down over the sea,” Henri says, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. “They never found his remains.”
I don’t press further. It looks like that lead was as much of a dead end as the previous ones. Funnily enough, mydisappointment fades into the background within seconds, and without making me lose heart. All I can think about is the full confession that’s coming. We’ll talk it through. I’ll tell him I’ve known all along. And then, we’ll be able to move past it and build a future.
We round an outbuilding surrounded by a wall. A small, enchanting vertical vineyard is nestled snugly behind it, shielded from prying eyes by the wall. The vines are several rows deep and stretch upward, clinging to a series of trellises that provide both support and structure. Each row is beautifully organized. The trellises are made of weathered wood that’s still standing strong. The vines weave in and out of those wooden frames with their leaves, lush and vibrantly green, swaying gently in the evening breeze.
It’s still early in the season, but buds of future grapes are already dotting the vines. They’re small and hard, but they’re a promise of the bounty to come.
