“So I was. Around the time Agatha was here, a cat mummywas excavated from one of the walls. It would have been a big deal that everyone was talking about.”
“Cat skull, cat mummy!”
“Yes. I think we’re meant to start there, at the Aître Saint-Maclou.”
Edie pulled up her legs and wrapped her arms around them, needing a way to contain her feelings about an adventure that involved both the Plague and a cat mummy. “I don’t know if I can wait until we track down matching Joan of Arc sweatshirts before we go.”
“I’m not wearing a tourist sweatshirt, but yes. Let’s hurry. I think it will be so interesting.”
She sounded like she meant it, and her eyes were warm. Cosima’s bra strap slid down in time with her grin.
Risk the ocean.
Edie wanted to kiss her again.
Chapter Fifteen
“I can hear you.” Cosima pressed the cool glass of her phone against her ear and stepped back into the long, stony passage of Aître Saint-Maclou to stand in front of a pair of wooden doors. The interpretive signage said the doors led to the original chapel.
She could really use some divine intervention right now.
“Excellent. As I said, I’ve been reluctant to interfere with your vacation, but there’s a bit of friction we should discuss.”
Vacation. A bit of friction.Duncan’s tone didn’t hold recrimination or passive aggression, but Cosima nonetheless had to squeeze her eyes shut against the pain of the knives, twisting around the plate of pastries she’d devoured from Patisserie Julliene.
They’d had a delicious breakfast at the concierge’s recommendation. Edie had surprised Cosima by asking the counter server a few questions about the bread in a slow but serviceable hybrid of culinary French and English, which drew one of thebakers out of the kitchen. By the time they left, Edie and the baker had exchanged vegan pastry recipes, and Cosima had been replete with sweetness of every kind.
Whatever she had thought it would be to make love to Edie, she hadn’t understood it would involve every cell of her body and all of her feelings.
She hadn’t known it would balance her life on the edge of heartbreak, and that she wouldn’t care.
She’d been trying to hang on to the morning since she saw Duncan’s name on the screen of her phone, but she could feel it slipping away.
A bit of friction—it wasn’t what Duncan meant. She settled in to translate from Duncan to English what level of crisis had precipitated his calling her. She knew it had to be a crisis, because he would have avoided reaching out otherwise. He wouldn’t want her to havefeelings.
“Friction?”
“Indeed. It’s been requested by the board that you appoint an interim CEO. They’ve voted on this request, I should say. Keep in mind, there was a majority of only one vote. Nearly half the board isn’tasanxious to see the matter resolved. There may be some room for finesse. Options they would be willing to consider.”
Cosima unbuttoned her coat, feeling constricted by its fit over the sweater she’d purchased in the hotel shop. She translated Duncan to mean that half the board was angry and wanted an interim CEO appointed. The other half was angry and couldn’t agree enough on what to do about it to form the coalition required for a majority vote.
“Options?”
“Of course, I’m not sure. It may be easier to suss out the resolution they’d settle for if you had a short window to return.No more than forty-eight hours. Your office could make the arrangements.”
Like a spike between her eyes, she had a sudden vision of the PFS studio building in Burbank with the California sun bouncing off its mirrored windows and heating the concrete pathways to its ultra-modern lobby.
Here, now, the wood she laid her palm against was nearly black with age. She could hear Edie talking to a docent, his French-accented English amused with whatever Edie was telling him.
She couldn’t do Burbank. Shecouldn’t. She had to claw back, wherever she could. Here was where the messy hit the road. “I’m not able to return to LA.”
Duncan was quiet.
Cosima watched her finger trace the wood carvings, softened to indistinct shapes with time. Her stomach cramped, forcing her to silently suck in a breath.
“Perhaps we could arrange a teleconference?”
His voice was so familiar, so easy and reasonable. He’d been patient with her. His diplomacy was legendary. He’d doubtless covered for her generously, such that the board members had no choice but to believe that Cosima’s departure had been planned, her trip providing time away for her to recover and return ready to work.
