The Paris Time Capsule (9 page)

There was the sound of shuffling papers.
“Boldini? Who’s Boldini? I’m sure you can sort out the issue of the apartment with the lawyer, Cat. It needn’t involve you personally. You don’t have to do all this.”

“
It should only take a day or two.” Now, Cat felt irritated with everybody. “I’ll call you.”

Christian hung up, and Cat slid the phone across the double bed. It rang again.

“I thought you’d ring back to say goodnight to me,” she said.

“
Interesting.”

Cat sat up on the edge of the bed.
“Oh, Loic.”

There was a pause.
“I’ve told Maman … as much as I could on the phone. I told her that you were … that you were a good person. She would love to meet you, Cat.”

“
Look, what I was saying before, was not -”

“
Thank you for coming with me.” He cut her off. “You need to have something to eat.”

“
Mm hm?”

“
There’s a good little bistro just around the corner from your hotel. Go out the door, turn left and then take your first right. It’s halfway up the street. You won’t miss it. Afterwards … get some rest, won’t you.”

“
Whatever you say.”

“
A demain, Cat.”

“
A demain,” Cat whispered.

Cat spent most of the train trip south staring out the window, taking in the picturesque villages, the more formal, northern style of French architecture gradually giving way to something more rustic altogether. Cat found herself endeared by the simple stone buildings, their shutters painted in pale blues and yellows. When they pulled up in Saint Revel, one of Loic’s employees was waiting at the tiny station. He took their luggage, and went off with it.

“
Are we … walking?” Cat asked.

“
Not exactly.” Loic led her out to the cobbled road that ran along the back of the station, past a couple of silver Peugeots. He stopped at a red Vespa, handed her a helmet.

“
Hop on.”

Cat laughed.
“I have one of my own. I can drive, Loic.”

Loic
glanced up the steep hill that ran behind the train station towards the impossibly narrow roads that doglegged their way up through the village. The village in turn overlooked a spectacular valley, bathed in golden sunlight.

“
Our gendarmes prefer you to have a French license, you see.”

“
Oh. Shame.” She took the helmet and tucked it onto her head. “It’s okay, I can do it,” she said, when he reached out to help her adjust the chinstraps.

“
Good,” he said, climbing onto the bike.

“
Loic. I’m wondering  … how much, exactly … have you told your mother? Sylvie?”

“
Don’t worry. She’ll love you. I know that.”

Cat folded her arms.

He grinned again, settling himself on the seat of his bike. “Come on.”

“
Great,” Cat mumbled. But there was no point standing here in the train station. She climbed on the back of Loic’s bike. Gingerly, she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“
Okay?” Loic asked, turning on the engine. He turned to look at her.

“
Fine!” Cat shouted.

Loic
opened up the throttle. The village streets were so impossibly narrow that Cat wondered how anyone got a car through them at all. But cars were there, parked at odd angles right up against the honey colored houses and the small shops, patisserie, boulangerie, boucherie, tabac and supermarche, that lined the main street of the pretty village.

When
Loic pulled up outside a two-story house, its front door sitting atop a small flight of steps lined with colorful pots of pansies, nerves had started to churn around Cat’s insides. What on earth was she going to say for herself?

Loic
leaned forward and undid her chinstrap.

Cat jumped.
“Sorry,” she said. “I was just … admiring the view.”

Loic
raised that eyebrow, then, he stepped behind her, allowing her to go first up the short flight of steps to Sylvie Archer’s pale blue front door.

Sylvie Archer was not what Cat had been expecting at all. For some reason, she had imagined a short woman, beady eyed, who doted on her only son. She would be dressed entirely in black, from head to toe with sensible, flat-heeled shoes.

Sylvie was the opposite. She opened the front door wearing a pair of faded jeans and a loose pink jumper that fell across her still elegant frame. Her hair, even though she must be nearly seventy, was still dark and fell in a cloud around her shoulders. Her brown eyes were just the same as Loic’s.

“
Darling children,” she said, her accent far more pronounced than Loic’s. “You must be starving. You ate, yes, on the train?”

“
Yes,” Cat smiled. “Look, I want to explain -”

But Sylvie patted Cat on the shoulder.
“I don’t believe in explanations. There is nothing to worry about, my darling girl.”

Cat turned to
Loic. He smiled at her, indicated that she should go inside. Sylvie led them into her cottage, past a stairway, then down a narrow hall painted navy blue and covered with dozens of black and white photos. It was tempting to stop and take a look, but Sylvie marched straight down towards the back of the house.

“
Cat’s suitcases are upstairs?” Loic called through from behind Cat.

“
Of course,” Sylvie said.

“
Oh, please don’t feel you have to have me stay with you. I can find a hotel.”

But Sylvie smiled and shook her head at Cat once she had entered the bright kitchen at the rear of the cottage. A farmhouse oven warmed the space, and a sitting room with comfo
rtable looking sofas and chairs was framed with an all glass wall, that looked onto an elegant back terrace. A high wall with espaliered plants backed the garden.

“
This is gorgeous,” Cat whispered.

“
Merci.” Sylvie started to make coffee. “Sit down …” she said. Suddenly she sounded a little awkward.

Cat wished
Loic would re-appear. He had gone upstairs. She perched on one of the cream sofas.

Sylvie stopped what sh
e was doing and leaned on the kitchen bench. “I’m sorry, dear, Cat. Please, relax. Make yourself at home in my house.”

Cat sat back against one of the pretty pale cushions behind her. She blew out a breath.
“Look -”

“
Dear -” Sylvie spoke at the same time.

“
You two are getting to know each other?” Loic appeared, leaned against the side of the kitchen door.

Cat sensed Sylvie look at him as if for help. Cat felt herself doing exactly the same thing.

“Sit down,” he said to Sylvie. “I’ll make the coffee.”

Cat put
Loic’s excellent coffee down on the glass table in front of her. “Sylvie,” she said, “I want to be clear as to why I came here. I want you to take everything back.”

Sylvie ran a hand through her cloud of dark hair, much the same gesture as
Loic often did. “I can’t, chérie. I would simply never do that.”

“
But why?”

Sylvie shook her head.
“My mother was of sound mind when she died. She must have had a reason for … not telling us about Paris, for not changing this will. I don’t know what her good reason was, but I have thought about it and there it is.”

“
Maman’s right.” Loic’s voice broke into the room, almost to the extent that it caused Cat to jump.

Sylvie leaned across and put a hand on
Loic’s own. “Cat. You see my mother came down here when the war broke out with nothing. There is a nunnery, high up on the hill above the village. They took her in when she first arrived.” Something passed across her face. “She was poor all her life. Struggling. She worked at the nunnery until she was well into her sixties. Cleaned for them.”

Cat didn’t know where to look. None of this made sense. The woman had an apartment not far from the Seine. She owned a Boldini, for goodness sakes.

“I don’t think the fact that she kept a secret from you meant that she loved you any the less, Maman,” Loic said. He stood up, started to clear things away.

Sylvie let out a sigh.
“You are going now, Loic?”

“
Wait,” Cat said.

Loic
and Sylvie turned to face her.

“
Please. Don’t let the past affect your futures. I don’t know how to make you see sense! I’ll have to sell the apartment. I can’t afford to keep it.”

Loic
chuckled. “I won’t let it affect my future, Cat,” he said. “And … I can take care of Maman if I need to. Although, she’s doing pretty well herself.”

“
I didn’t mean it like that.” Suddenly, Cat felt very tired.

Sylvie turned to Cat and smiled.
“My dear, I think you should rest. We will have dinner at eight. We will talk more about this with Loic tomorrow.”

Cat wanted to throw her hands up in the air.
“Please, think about my offer, Sylvie.”

Sylvie stood up.
“I will show you to your room, c
h
é
rie.”

An hour later, Cat lay on Sylvie’s spare room bed, its white quilt cover scattered with blue cushions. There was a perfect little en-suite, with just enough room for a bath. Cat had soaked in scented bubbles for a long time, and now, it was high time she called Christian.

“
They won’t budge,” she told him. “I can’t see why they won’t just take their inheritance right away.”

“
I can see your dilemma.” That was the thing about Christian. He always offered support, never advice, which was a relief most of the time.

Now, Cat stood and stared out at the cobbled village street. A young couple strolled outside, her arm tucked into his. Cat slumped back on the bed.

“Yes, but how can I convince them to just take what’s theirs? Any ideas?” Cat knew she sounded helpless, but there really didn’t seem any way to get through.

“
Well, I’ve got some exciting news, honey,” Christian sounded as if he had put something down, whatever it was he was doing.

“
Even if I gift it all back to them, after probate, they’ll probably send it right back!”

“
Honey?”

“
Of course, I could donate it all to a cat’s home or something, but that’s not going to help the people who deserve it all either.”

“
You’re not listening to me.”

“
I’m running out of ideas! I could leave it all to Loic when I’m dead. Now, there’s a plan, just as great as Isabelle’s was …”

“
I’ve organized our engagement party.”

“
Oh?” Cat heard Sylvie coming up the stairs. She closed her bedroom door. “What?” she whispered.

“
And guess what, honey?”

“
Yes?”

“
The best time for us all is Saturday week. Mother and Father don’t want it to clash with Mother’s birthday, so …”

“
Oh?”

“
The Hamptons, we thought. We’ve hired someone who can help organize things, honey. Should be perfect. She can do the wedding as well.”

“
You’ve hired someone?”

“
We’ve used her for other family events. Elise. Great girl. Will do an excellent job. Keep it tasteful, honey. We won’t have time to do it ourselves. That’s important.”

Cat closed her eyes.
“I’m a little preoccupied. I … can we talk about it more when I get home?”

“
Yes, details, details. I love you, honey.”

“
Yes, I love you too.”

Christian hung up.

It was almost time to go down to dinner. Cat moved about the room, automatic now, pulling on a dress. She couldn’t possibly leave everything to the planner. The sooner she sorted things out here, the sooner she could go home and get her life back under control.

Cat woke late the next morning. The smell of roasting coffee beans and warm pastry wafted up the stairway. Sylvie had the radio on, softly, and every now and then, Cat could hear the older woman humming to herself.

When Cat arrived at breakfast, the table was laden. But Sylvie was not bustling about the kitchen anymore. Instead, she sat at the table, alone, her chin resting on her hand. She didn’t look up when Cat walked in.

“
Sylvie?” Cat rushed over to her. “Are you … well?”

Sylvie smiled her deep, beautiful smile. She rested her hand on Cat’s arm.
“It’s okay, chérie,” she said. “It’s just …”

“
You are okay?” Cat sat down next to her.

But Sylvie stood right up.
“You need to eat, chérie,” she said, marching across to the kitchen and pulling a tray of warmed croissants out of the oven. She arranged the croissants on a plate. Poured two cups of coffee and lifted a plate of bright clementines across to the table. She picked up one of these, started peeling its thin orange flesh and popping segments into her mouth. Then she put the fruit down with a sigh.

“
You must be starving,” she said, absently, handing Cat the plate of croissants.

Cat took one, mostly just to please Sylvie, and put it on her plate.

“Eat, chérie.”

Cat broke a piece of the croissant.

There was a silence for a few moments. Sylvie picked up her coffee cup several times, then put it down, then played with her clementine skin, then rested her hands in her lap and looked out the window.

“
I must tidy up my garden,” she said, her voice still absent.

“
Oh?” Cat turned around to face it. The entire little space looked immaculate.

“
Yes. My husband loved the garden.” She sounded wistful now.

Cat sipped at her coffee in silence.

“It’s ten years ago now, that I lost him,” Sylvie went on. “And now, my mother. She was a strong woman.”

“
I bet.”

“
Well.” Sylvie stood up again. “And,” she said. “She did not put up with any … how you say it? Nonsense.” Sylvie’s mouth was working.

“
Oh, Sylvie,” Cat stood up and clambered around the table to put her arms around the older woman.

In spite of the fact that Cat had only met Sylvie one day earlier, she felt close to her. Sylvie rested her head on Cat’s shoulder.

“Ah, I’m too emotional, chérie.”

“
No,” Cat said, stroking her head. “This has been a terrible shock for you.” She held Sylvie at arm’s length. “I want to help make it right. I wish you’d make it easier for me, though, you know.”

Sylvie rested her hands on Cat’s shoulders.
“Cat,” she said, her accent more pronounced than it had seemed before, “I will not let you hand back what my mother has left to you. I loved her. And I respected her. I respect her choices.”

“
Oh, but please!”

“
No. But … there is something, chérie.”

“
Anything.”

“
Bah, you are busy,” Sylvie said. “It’s just that, I have not the energy for running around -”

Cat smiled and caught Sylvie’s hand.
“What are you saying Sylvie? What is it you want? You will think about my offer? Please let that be the case!”

“
What? No, my chérie. I was wondering, though … well, I was thinking. Although it is probably a stupid idea. It’s just that, you have complete access to her … apartment. And … well.”

“
Yes?”

“
You see, oh, I know it is silly. Sounds ridiculous now, like how my husband used to say, sour grapes?”

“
But?”

“
Oh, well, you see, but you know, the thing is, I always wanted to go to Art School.”

“
Oh?” Cat felt her shoulders slump.

“
Oui.” Sylvie walked over to the window. Her back was to Cat. “But there was never enough money. So.”

“
I’m sorry.”

“
Oh, chérie, I did just fine. I have a little gallery in the village, where I paint and sell to tourists. I am largely self-taught, but you know. It is okay.”

“
Sylvie, would you like me to give you some money from the apartment and the … painting to put towards your work? Is that it, because, honestly, you don’t even have to ask.”

“
Oh, no, no.”

“
Sylvie, I -”

“
No. It’s more that, oh … I am too old for secrets.”

“
Sure.”

Sylvie seemed to be struggling again.
“I cannot accept the help you would give to me. To … my family. Not that Loic needs any help! Oh, I am babbling so awfully…”

“
Sylvie…”

“
Chérie,” Sylvie sat down at the table with a thump. She took a long sip of her coffee. “Would you find out the truth for me? Would you find out why my mother did what she did? Because, then I think I could cope with it.”

Cat sat down too. At the moment, she knew, she was so entranced with Sylvie that she would do anything for the older woman. But Cat had to get back to New York.

She took Sylvie’s hand in her own. “I would love to help that way. It … fascinates me too, but I have commitments.”

“
Oh,” Sylvie was wiping away tears. “I am sorry I asked. Just forget about it. It doesn’t matter.”

Cat kept hold of Sylvie’s hand. The watering system came on in Sylvie’s small garden, spraying water just short of the French doors leading out to the patio. A bird appeared, dancing in the dots of water that fluttered over the plants.

“Once the apartment is packed up and sold, this is all in the past, it doesn’t matter,” Sylvie said.

The bird played for a while, flapping in the water. Then as quickly as it had appeared, it flew over the high wall at the back of the garden.

“Sylvie, what if I can find a reason, a good reason for you to take your inheritance? Would you consider taking it then?”

Sylvie drew her hand away from Cat’s, wiping it over her still beautiful cheeks.
“Oh, chérie.”

“
Look, how about if I … try and find out why your mother never went back to Paris, why she never told you anything about it. If I do that, and if the apartment, everything, should go to you, will you take it? Can I have your word?”

Sylvie gazed out the window for a few moments.
“If it turns out that it is the right thing to do, then, yes, you have my word. Although, I will compensate you, my chérie.”

Cat stood up.
“I don’t expect that at all. Given how much is at stake here, Sylvie, consider me onto it. We have a deal.” Cat reached out a hand, and Sylvie held out her own in return.

Where Cat was going to begin was quite another matter. She stared at herself in the white-framed mirror while she brushed her teeth. What on earth had she taken on? The chances of finding out why Isabelle had never returned to Paris were so low as to be ridiculous. But, if she didn’t try, and if Sylvie refused to take the inheritance without further investigation, how would Cat live with herself?

The best place to start, of course, would be to make a thorough search of Isabelle’s papers. Sylvie, or, preferably not,
Loic, must have these somewhere. Surely, there must be bills, accounts, pertaining to the Paris apartment. But then, why hadn’t Sylvie found them? Perhaps they hadn’t been through them yet. The woman in the neighboring apartment in Paris said that all the bills had been paid, but she didn’t know any more than that, other than the owner was a Madame de Florian. Where would an old woman keep her secrets?

Cat slip
ped a bracelet on her wrist. She almost ran down the stairs. There was no time to lose.

“
Sylvie?”

The kitchen was empty. It was as tidy as she and Sylvie had left it after breakfast, but Cat could sense that the house was empty too. Suddenly, she jumped at the sound of a Vespa scooting up the steep street. Obstacle number one.

Then, there was the sound of Sylvie, out on the front doorstep. Clearly, she had been waiting for her son. Cat could almost feel the lead balloon descending on her shoulders. She stayed in the kitchen, walked around the room a couple of times, and straightened her hair.

“
Chérie?” Sylvie’s voice rang through the house. “Come and look who is here, my darling!”

Loic
should be pleased anyway. He wanted to learn the truth.

Sylvie almost burst into the room.
“Cat!”

“
I’m here!” Cat laughed.

Sylvie almost bumped into her. She grabbed Cat by the arms and dragged her into the front entrance hall.

“Look who has arrived!” she squeaked like a schoolgirl.

“
Bonjour, Loic,” Cat said. But just as she said the words, she stopped. Someone else was in the entrance hall too. A girl, who was taking off a red helmet, and shaking out her long dark hair. Two large brown eyes raised themselves up to look at Cat, and the girl held out a slim brown hand to shake Cat’s own.

“
Bonjour, I am Josephine.”

Loic
’s girlfriend. Of course. Cat smiled at her. “Nice to meet you.”

Sylvie skipped past Cat and pressed her lips to Josephine’s cheek.

“Alors,” Loic said, “Let’s go through.”

Sylvie stood aside as if she were in a receiving line at a wedding.

“Cat,” Loic took off his gloves and left them with the helmets on the hall table. He was wearing a leather jacket, and his dark hair was slightly ruffled.

“
Morning, Loic,” Cat said.

He indicated for her to go through to the kitchen first.

“Josephine! Josephine!” Sylvie bustled to the espresso machine.

“
Let me,” Loic marched over to the cupboard and got out coffee beans.

“
Merci.” Sylvie grabbed Josephine’s hand and led her to the table.

“
How is Maman today?” Loic asked Cat.

Cat set four cups on the kitchen bench.
“There’s something you should know -”

“
I thought bringing Josephine over was a good idea.” Loic whizzed the beans like a pro.

“
Sure.”

“
She came down last night. Avignon train. I picked her up. We tried a new restaurant in the center of the old town. It was interesting food.”

“
Aha.”

“
Damn. Maman should get a new machine.” Loic shook his fingers out. “In fact, I’ll buy her one. There’s a pretty good shop in the village now. Sells this sort of stuff. Handy.”

“
Loic.”

Loic
stopped and looked at her.

“
Look.”

“
Loic?” Sylvie called him to come across. “Josephine has been made a partner in her practice!”

“
I know, Maman. It’s wonderful news. Excuse me,” he said to Cat. He started walking towards the other women at the table, and then he turned, his head on one side. “Was there something, Cat?”

“
Oh, later,” Cat smiled, waving him off. She let out a sigh.

“
Chérie!” Sylvie called. “You come over too. You are part of the family!”

Cat
hovered in the kitchen.

Loic
indicated towards the chair next to him. “Come and sit down, Cat.”

Sylvie and Josephine were clasping each other’s hands now, speaking in super rapid French.

“Mutual congratulations society. Happens every time they get together,” Loic said. “Did you … sleep well, Cat?”

Cat put down her coffee.
“Yes, thank you. But -”

“
Bien.” Sylvie turned her smiling face to encompass them all. “Shall we tell them? Shall we tell them our darling little plan, chérie?”

Cat felt her stomach tumble.

“Cat?” Loic’s voice was low.

“
The café is ready, darling,” Sylvie smiled at him.

“
Oui,” he growled, not taking his eyes off Cat, and pushing back his chair.

No, please, Cat thought, let’s not discuss this in front of this elegant, beautiful, stranger. Who is clearly some of sort professional success as well. Not now.

“What sort of practice do you work in, Josephine?” Cat asked.

She could sense
Loic’s narrowed eyes not leaving her for a moment.

“
Psychologue.” Josephine’s voice was like crystal.