“I will never dissapoint you,” she said vehemently.
“That is what we are counting on. Tomorrow, go to 20 Rue d’Algérie where you’ll find a bookshop. Repeat the address back to me.”
“Twenty Rue d’Algérie,” she recited. While she knew the area, it was not one she traveled to often.
“You can remember it?”
“Of course.” She didn’t bother to stifle her offense at the question. After all, she had spent the past two weeks memorizing addresses. Writing them down was dangerous. The instructions had been repeated to her by Etienne himself as well as many others.
If he noticed her irritation at his lack of faith, he ignored it. “A woman will meet you out front at noon. Her name is Nicole. Don’t be late.”
“Or early,” she said, tossing his directives back at him to show she had absorbed everything he’d taught her.
His eyes crinkled with a smile. “You are good at this, Elaine.”
If she was that good, she would have found a way to set Joseph free. But she refrained from saying as much. All she could do now was put her trust in Etienne and the Resistance to save her husband.
The bells chimed noon as Elaine approached the bookshop. As she did so, a woman with pale blond hair sauntered toward her, stylishly dressed in a white sweater and a knee-length navy skirt that matched the delicate brimless calot hat pinned primly to the crown of her head. Her red lips parted in a wide smile. “Elaine, ma chérie, it is so good to see you.”
To Elaine’s surprise, the pretty young woman embraced her and brushed a kiss on each cheek. Elaine did likewise, feigning familiarity so they appeared little more than old friends to anyone who might be observing them.
“Come join me for coffee.” Nicole clasped Elaine’s hand in hers. “Or at least what passes for coffee these days.” Her pale blue eyes twinkled, and she pulled Elaine close, leading her to a door beside the bookshop.
Nicole did not drop Elaine’s hand as they entered the courtyard and climbed a set of stairs. Instead, she gave Elaine’s fingers a squeeze. “We’ll teach you everything you need to ensure you stay safe, chérie.”
“Safe is nice, but I want to be effective,” Elaine countered.
Nicole grinned. “Denise is going to adore you.”
She stopped before an apartment door and pulled out a key. Her efforts appeared to take an inordinate amount of time as Elaine waited, nerves taut with anxiety to meet the other women she would be working with. To discover what it was she was even going to be doing. At last, the heavy door clicked open, and Nicole led Elaine inside.
The safe houses where Elaine had stayed were often empty rooms with a simple mattress and a few blankets. But here, the foyer held a homey, lived-in feel with several shoes tilting in a messy line against the wall and a battered armoire sitting stout in the corner with a round mirror over it for checking one’s hair before leaving.
Nicole kicked off her heels with a heavy clunk and dropped an inch in height before unpinning the smart hat and setting it aside, not a hair out of place. “She’s here,” she called out in a singsong voice and gave Elaine a wink.
Elaine deposited her shoes next to Nicole’s and followed her into the main living area. The space was exactly what one would expect, with gauzy white curtains draped over the windows and a cobalt blue settee framed by two butter-yellow chairs. But in the center of the room was a large table that held a typewriter, various slips of paper, several pencils, and what appeared to be scraps of silk. Two women bending over something on the cluttered surface looked up with interest.
The dark-haired one’s blithe gaze skimmed over Elaine, her demeanor entirely unwelcoming. The woman with light brown curls, however, gave a shy, gentle smile that instantly made Elaine like her.