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“I won’t ask where the pain is.”
He laughed. “Will you be there?”
“Moi? Non. I’ll be hiding under the covers and not taking any calls. Listen, Armand, you and I both know this is moot. Professor Robinson will give her talk tomorrow, but it’ll be to an empty auditorium. And that’ll be the end of it.”
She leaned forward and kissed him on both cheeks.
“Joyeux Noël. Bonne année. Give my love to Reine-Marie.”
“And to you, Colette, and Jean-Paul.”
As he walked back down the path to the car, Armand turned and noticed the pages still plastered in the front window of the Chancellor’s home. On the paper were rainbows, probably drawn by the grandchildren during the pandemic, with the words in crayon, Ça va bien aller.
He turned away, his face grave. All will be well. It depended, he knew, on what “well” meant. And he had a sinking feeling he and the Chancellor had two different ideas on that.
Colette Roberge pulled her cardigan tighter and watched as the Chief Inspector drove away.
Just then she heard young voices raised in shouts and heated arguments as her grandchildren returned with their friends.
Doors banged, cold air blew in. Thuds were heard as winter boots were kicked off and skates tossed into corners.
“Hot chocolate?” she asked.
“Yes, please, Granny.”
Even those not related to her called her Granny. In fact, Colette knew that some of her colleagues and even the Premier Ministre du Québec called her Grand-mère.
It was, she’d decided, both a term of endearment and an advantage. They were far less likely to be guarded around their grandmother.
She stirred the pot of cocoa and watched her husband in the corner, where he’d been all morning, lost in his jigsaw. While life swirled, unnoticed, around him.
That night, as he sat in his study with Jean-Guy, Armand leaned forward and clicked play on his laptop. They watched as Abigail Robinson, the nice woman on the screen, began talking.
Twelve minutes later Jean-Guy reached over and hit pause.
“Is she saying what I think she is?”
Armand nodded.
“Fuck,” whispered Jean-Guy. His eyes shifted from the computer to his father-in-law. “And you’re going to protect her?”
“Someone has to.”
“Did you know what she was saying when you agreed?”
“Non.”
“Did you know what she was saying when you told me you didn’t need me there?”
“Non.”
They held each other’s eyes. Jean-Guy’s complexion had gone from a rosy glow to a flush. The seeds of anger sown.
“I’m going upstairs,” said Jean-Guy.
“I’ll come with you.”
Armand turned off the Christmas tree. In the darkness he could see the three great pine trees anchoring the village green. Their multicolored Christmas lights glowed red, blue, and green under the weight of snow on their boughs.
