“Of course not!”
“And your children? To lose a child, believe me, it’s worse than death.”
“No!”
“Then you must say goodbye to your lover. It won’t be forever. I’m sure you will find some way to—”
“I’m going to have his child.”
Grandmère, who had started toward her, stopped short in the middle of the rug. “I see.”
“So you see, he can’t be reassigned. He must come with us. We must stay together, at all costs.”
Grandmère’s gaze dropped briefly to Daisy’s stomach, then she continued across the room until she stood before her granddaughter. “We will see what’s to be done. For now, you must listen. I’ve sent a message down the escape line. In a day or two, we will have arranged a safe house outside of Paris, where we can await the next move. Legrand has already made a set of papers. You and the children—”
“The children! My God, I’ve got to—”
“Hush. You’ll stay in the bookshop until I give the signal.” Grandmère held out her hand. “And you must take this with you.”
“The talisman? But I can’t keep that with me. If I’m searched—”
“Not to keep. I’ve made arrangements with an American contact of mine, in the intelligence service. Before you leave Paris, you’ll take this to him.”
“And what’s he going to do with it?”
“He’ll get us money for the jewels, which we badly need at the moment, as you know. The network’s about to be starved out of existence. And with the Germans taking over the free zone, it’s as impossible there as in Paris to sell the jewels. As for the talisman itself, it will be returned safely to the hands of the demoiselle.”
“Oh, the old superstition,” Daisy said. She took the bundle of silk cloth from her grandmother’s hand and stuffed it in her pocket. “Just let me know where and when to make the drop. In the meantime, I’ve got to fetch the children from school.”
“It’s already done, my dear. They’ll be waiting for you at the bookshop.”
“What? By whom? When?”
“Right now. Von Sternburg’s gone to get them.”
Daisy thought she might explode. She whirled and turned for the door.
“Daisy, wait! Stop!” Grandmère darted in front of her and stood before the door. “It’s all right. In the name of God, don’t go. He’ll get them out. The children know him, and Madame won’t question a German officer. It’s safer this way.”
“I don’t understand! Why do you trust him like this? With your own great-grandchildren?”
Grandmère opened her mouth and closed it. Her hand, which had found the door handle behind her, dropped away. “You’ll have to ask him that yourself,” she said softly. “In the meantime, keep that damned thing safe, do you understand me? Remember you’re the demoiselle.”
“I’m not the demoiselle. The line of the Courcelles has died out, don’t you remember? It’s just a fiction, Grandmère, a fairy story. There is no demoiselle.”
Grandmère only stared at her, neither fierce nor pitying, a dainty old woman on the verge of frailty. The kaftan stirred a little in the draft. She made a little sigh, just like a Frenchwoman.
“Very well. Go. But remember, Daisy. It’s the talisman who finds the demoiselle, not the other way around.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Daisy said. “And if that Von Sternburg does not deliver Madeleine and Olivier to me within the hour, I swear before God that I will tear the both of you limb from limb. Now excuse me.”
She stretched around her grandmother’s iron-straight body for the doorknob.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Babs
Paris, France
April 1964
I stretched languorously in the bed, evaluating my current state of affairs. Which, at that moment, consisted of a naked arm wrapped around my equally naked waist, pulling me close in a very intimate spooning position. I pressed back against the solid chest that was Drew, every inch of my skin sighing with happiness.
When I closed my eyes—something that had been done rather infrequently in the last three days—I no longer saw Kit’s face. It wasn’t that I had erased him from my memories. It was more like I’d moved a favored childhood doll to a high shelf in my closet; protected and cherished, but no longer a part of my life. Kit had been my first love, the object of my childhood crush that hadn’t changed despite the years. It should have, I realized now. It might have saved us both a lot of heartache.