“Mom!”Milo screamed.“Jem is here!”
“Now probably isn’t the best time—” Stephen tried again.
But from the back of the chalet came the sound of a door opening, and a moment later Brigitte appeared in the hallway.She’d changed into a sweater and jeans and suede ankle boots, and she’d had time to do her makeup.She held herself stiffly, her gaze on Stephen before moving to Jem and Tean.
“Thank goodness,” Brigitte said.“You’re back.What happened?Was it him?”
Jem nodded.“Is there somewhere we could talk?”
“What does she mean, ‘was it him’?”That came from Mop Top, who had stopped pacing now to stare at them.“Who else could it be?”
“Somewhere private,” Jem said.
Brigitte seemed not to hear him for a moment.Then she came alive, blinking away tears—or what might have been tears, anyway—and saying, “Of course.This way.”
“I’d better come too,” Stephen said.
“Why don’t you make sure everyone’s okay?”Brigitte asked.“I know Gerald would have wanted you to do whatever you could for them.”
“Everyone’s fine,” Stephen said.“I want to do whatever I can foryouright now.”
“We’re fine, thank you.”
“No, we’re not!”Maeve shouted from the loft.
“We’re hungry!”Milo informed the room.
“There you go,” Brigitte said.“You can get the children something to eat.”
“I can help you—” Stephen said, and he took a step toward her.
“No,” Brigitte snapped.“Jeremiah and I are going to talk.Alone.”She swept her gaze around the room, and a thin smile carved its way across her face.“I’m so sorry.Excuse us for a moment.”
Thatalonehad sounded definite, but when Brigitte took Jem’s arm, the blond man shot a beseeching look at Tean, so Tean followed them down the hall.He risked a glance at Stephen as he passed him.Helplessness.Confusion.Weariness.And that was all—just a friend who’d gotten his head bitten off for trying to help.
Brigitte led them into what must have been the primary bedroom at the back of the chalet.It had another fireplace, where a fire burned steadily, with armchairs and a low-backed sofa drawn up around it.There was a TV, and although it was off now, Tean couldn’t help wondering if Maeve had been right about what Brigitte had been doing back here.The bedding was smooth, as though it hadn’t been touched.
Motioning for them to sit, Brigitte shut the door.She waited a moment and opened the door again.
The hallway was empty.
She shut the door again.
When she curled up in the armchair closest to the fire, Jem said, “Trouble?”
“He’s a leech,” Brigitte said.“Gerald thought he walked on water.”
“What do you mean, a leech?”Tean asked.
Brigitte glanced at him as though she’d forgotten he was with them.She put a hand to her forehead, as though she had a headache, and shook her head.“I shouldn’t have said that.It slipped out, and it was unkind.”
Unkind, maybe.But it hadn’t slipped out.She’d meant to say it.And she’d meant for them to hear it; Tean was sure about that.
“What happened?”Brigitte asked, sliding her gaze to Jem.“Was it him?”
Jem nodded.“It’s Gerald.”He shifted in his seat.“I’m sorry.”
Brigitte squeezed her eyes shut, but tears escaped anyway, trickling down her cheeks.No sobs.No wails.After a moment, she nodded and wiped her cheeks.
