“Yes. I’ll be ready.” I placed my hands on the desk to help myself stand, noticing the nicks and scratches in the wood, wondering if Kit had made any of them. Or La Fleur. And once again I imagined the faint scent of his tobacco, as warm and familiar to me as his touch.
“Are you okay to walk back? We could take a taxi.” Drew’s voice brought me back to the present.
I blinked up at him. “Yes. Quite all right. Just woolgathering.”
“You look a little pale. Maybe we should grab a drink in the bar when we get back?”
I must have turned a shade of green because he immediately said, “Never mind. Maybe all you need is fresh air.” He helped me stand, then brought the book to the front of the shop, where Philippe was handing a customer a package.
“Did you find what you needed?” he asked.
“We’re not sure.” Drew held up the book. “I’d like to buy it, just in case. How much?”
Philippe waved his hand. “Take it, please. It’s one less thing to fall on my head when I’m looking for something in the back room.”
“Mersy,” Drew said.
Philippe blinked once. “You are welcome.”
We said our goodbyes and turned to leave, but I held back. “One more question, Philippe. The woman with the children, the friend of Monsieur Legrand. You said you didn’t know her name. But did you ever have reason to believe that she might have been the famous French Resistance fighter La Fleur? Perhaps something your grandfather might have said?”
“La Fleur? Oh non, madame. La Fleur, I would have known if I’d met her. It is said if you looked directly into her eyes their fire would blind you. The woman I knew was very womanly. Soft, yes? Not like La Fleur at all.”
“I see,” I said. “Merci.” I followed Drew out onto the crowded sidewalk and we made the short walk back to the hotel. When we reached the Ritz I had no idea what we’d talked about, aware only of the scent of tobacco that seemed to follow me no matter how fast I walked.
We said goodbye in the lobby, and I was headed toward the lift in desperate need of solitude in my room to process the events of the day when the concierge flagged me down. “Madame Langford?”
“Yes?”
“Madame Lemouron has requested your presence upon your return.” He indicated the lift. “If you will, I can escort you to her suite.”
“I . . .” It took me a moment to recall the name, and when I did, I was at a loss for words. “She wants to see me? Now?”
“At your convenience, of course.” He looked at me expectantly.
“All right,” I said, stepping into the lift. “Did she say why?”
“She did not, but I suspect she would like to make a new friend. Madame Lemouron is a very special resident to us, and we try and accommodate her as best as we can. She cannot leave her room very often, so she invites friends to come see her.” He lowered his voice, as if loath to share a secret about a resident but already considering me a confidant. I had that sort of face, I supposed, having been subjected to strangers’ confessions and life stories on trains and in shop lines for most of my life. “I’m afraid she might be lonely.”
I considered his words as I followed him down a plushly carpeted hallway, stopping at a door at the end of the hall. “We wanted her to have a quiet room,” he explained. “So she can rest between treatments.”
“Of course,” I said, remembering what Prunella Schuyler had said about Margot being ill.
“May I put your book in your room?” He held out his hand for The Scarlet Pimpernel and I reluctantly handed it to him, although I was tired of carrying it. He tapped on the door, and a nurse opened it. She was a tall woman, with graying curls pushed ruthlessly under her nurse’s hat, and large green eyes behind silver-framed eyeglasses. When she saw me, she smiled. “Madame Langford?”
After I’d replied in the affirmative she nodded to the concierge, who retreated back down the hallway, and then she pulled the door open wider. “Perfect timing,” she said in English. “Madame has just finished her nap, and I’ve administered her medications, so she’s ready for company.” She turned toward a bench near the door and picked up a nurse’s bag. “I will be back this evening at eight o’clock. I’ve already said au revoir, so I will let myself out.”
“Yes, of course . . . ,” I began, then stopped when I realized I was speaking to the door. I stood there, at a loss, uncertain as to what I should do next.