Véronique was seated on the aisle, and lined up to take Communion. She advanced slowly with the line, and stood inches away from her half-brother, as she waited near the front of the line, and he sat on the aisle in the first pew. Instinctively, he turned to look at her. She was a beautiful woman. He could barely see the bandage on her cheek with the tilt of her hat, but something about her held his attention as he stared at her. There was something so familiar about her, the way she stood and moved, and even her face, and she was so beautiful that he would have noticed her anyway. Their eyes met for an instant, and everything she felt for her father was in them, and it struck him. He watched as she moved forward to take Communion, and on her way back down the aisle, he saw the exquisite left half of her face, more exposed than the other side under her hat, and a moment later, she had disappeared into the crowd, and into the pew where she was sitting.
At the end of the mass, she whispered, “Goodbye, Papa,” and threaded her way through the crowd with tears running down her cheeks. Charles saw the hat disappear toward the doors of the church, and then she was gone. She slipped into the car after walking down the steps. Several photographers took her photograph, because she looked so elegant and striking, and she hoped they didn’t recognize her. She slipped on dark glasses, and once in the car, it pulled away to take her back to the apartment, where she carefully took off her hat and coat, and sat down in the black dress to read the funeral program again. There was a beautiful photograph of her father on the cover, and the music during the service had been magnificent with the cathedral organ. They had played Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” at the end, and the Ave Maria and “Amazing Grace” during the service, which had reduced Véronique to tears. Compared to her mother’s simple graveside service, her father’s funeral was all pomp and ceremony, as suited his stature as a respected senator.
After the long, emotional day, she wasn’t hungry and made herself some chicken broth and toast for dinner. She was at the table in her nightgown, after she took her funeral clothes off, when the phone rang, and she assumed it would be Doug, asking her how it had gone. She felt drained and didn’t want to speak to anyone, even Doug. She wasn’t going to answer, but the ringing was persistent, and she finally answered the phone, it was from a blocked number. A deep male voice spoke when she answered it.
“Miss Vincent?”
“Yes.”
He sounded serious and somewhat cautious, and the voice was vaguely familiar but she couldn’t place it.
“This is Charles Hayes, William Hayes’s son,” he said, as her heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t imagine why he was calling her. He sounded so official, she was worried that he was going to threaten her in some way, and tell her not to contact any of them, which she wouldn’t have anyway. Her mother had been extremely careful and respectful too. “If convenient for you, I’d like to make an appointment to see you. It was one of my father’s last wishes, on the day he died.” She remembered that he said Chip was coming to see him. She wondered what her father had said to him about her. “Would it be possible for us to meet?” he asked, and she was so stunned she didn’t speak for a minute, and then rushed to answer him.
“Yes, of course. The service was beautiful. Everything about it, the music, the flowers, the tributes. What you said was very moving.”
“He was an amazing man, and a wonderful father. We were very lucky,” he said. Luckier than she was, to only have had him for such a short time. “Would tomorrow be convenient for you?”
“Yes.” She had nothing to do, and even if she did, she would have seen him anyway. This was important, she wanted to know what it was about, and didn’t want to ask him on the phone. He suggested they meet at the Carlyle, which was convenient for both of them.
“At five o’clock?” he suggested.
“That’s fine.” He hadn’t mentioned his sisters, and she wondered if they were coming too. She couldn’t tell if this was going to be a meeting to warn her off and get rid of her, or embrace her as their long-lost sister, with open arms. She couldn’t guess from anything he said. She wondered if she was walking into some kind of trap, but wanted to go anyway.
“Thank you,” he said politely, “this meeting was important to my father. He made that very clear to me.”
“I’m so sorry. I know he wasn’t well, but I didn’t expect this, not so soon anyway.”