Her mother’s friends called Marie-Louise “La Petite,” not just for her size but also for how easily she melted into crowds and ducked soldiers’ gazes. She wasa runner,carrying tiny slips of paper in the lining of her blouse, the heel of her shoe, or inside a carved-out wooden dreidel. Since she wasn’t Jewish, she had no yellow star on her clothing and attracted less attention.
On Mondays she bought bread from Madame Stein’s boulangerie. The old woman wrapped the bread with rough brown paper and hid a message inside the crust. Eleven-year-old Marie-Louise hurried past shuttered shops and synagogues and across the quartier to M. Abromavich’s tailor shop.
She never read the notes. That was the rule, she told Nora. But she knew they saved lives.
She told Nora she would relate her more harrowing experiences the next time.
In the meantime, Nora became deeply involved in her transcriptions. She wanted to keep everything in draft form until she went back to Canada, where she would flesh out the story, keeping it true to Marie-Louise’s memories.
The romance Nora had been working on about a painter and a waitress had been set aside for now. She wanted the story Marie-Louise was sharing to be a priority.
* * *
At dinner in Chloe and Olivier’s apartment on Friday, Nora said, “It’s so good to have some downtime with the two of you. My goodness, we’ve all been going flat out. How is your work coming along?”
Chloe blew out a long breath and Olivier put his arm around her shoulder, giving her a comforting squeeze, as she said, “It’s been crazy with a capital C, for sure! But we’re making great progress, and I’m positive we will have all our pieces ready to ship by the first week in January.”
Olivier nodded. “Yes, I’m amazed we are on schedule. We will still have quite a few late nights to go, but that’s not a problem. We have until the end of the month to finish up. So, we’ll be in good shape to travel to my family’s farm in Provence for the fête de Noël. It’s going to be lovely to have you there with us.”
Chloe said, “You’ll adore the farm and the traditions of celebrating the holiday there. I’m so excited to have you experience all of it. Olivier’s grandparents, aunts, and uncles are the most wonderful people.”
Nora turned to Olivier. “I remember your grandparents were unable to attend your wedding because your grandmother had a hip replacement at that time. I am so looking forward to meeting them and spending the holiday at the farm. Your father was not around much after the ceremony, as I recall. I only have a dim memory of him.”
“Well, perhaps my dad is not included in ‘the most wonderful people category’,” Olivier said, scrunching his face in disgust. “But maybe he will be better this year. We can always hope.”
Chloe patted his hand. “Mon chou, he’s not so bad. He just has his moments.” Then she changed the subject and talked about their travel plans.
It was clear Chloe didn’t want to discuss Olivier’s father any more at that moment. Nora let her natural curiosity go, and they went over some plans for the weekend.
Olivier offered to spend time with Atticus so Nora and Chloe could visit the most popular Christmas market in Paris, La Magie de Noël in the Tuileries Garden. Chloe had described it as a huge carnival with stalls, rides, and yummy festive treats. “It’s very different from what we saw in Strasbourg. We’ll ride the Ferris wheel for sure!”
An alarm on Nora’s phone buzzed, and she realized dinner had gone on much longer than she’d expected.
“Yikes! I’ve got to get ready. Luc will be coming to pick me up in an hour.”
“Luc? Again?” Chloe asked with a twinkle in her eye.
Nora got up from the table and began to clear her dishes. “Yes! I told you last week he made a date for us to dance tango again tonight. We’re just friends. I mean … I’m almost old enough to be his mother.”
“Well, hardly. But whatever you say, Maman. I’m glad you are having such a good time dancing tango with him. I think it’s very cool. Just leave the dishes, we will clean up.”
* * *
Luc texted Nora there was absolutely no place to park.
Luc: Would you mind coming to the front of your building? I will drive around the block and then pull up to collect you. I’m sorry.
Nora: That’s absolutely no problem. I will come right down.
She had laid her clothes out during the afternoon, and her naturally wavy hair was always ready after a quick comb-through with her fingers and a dash of product.
Now, she took a quick look in the mirror. The mid-calf, soft aubergine-colored silk-blend dress had a low-cut back, and the filmy chiffon overskirt would move in just the right ways for the tango’s sensuous spins and turns. Her outfit was graceful without being flashy.
She had spotted it in the window of a vintage clothing store down the street a few days earlier and knew it was meant for her. It had been a long time since she’d had put so much thought into what she wore for a night out with a man, and she felt pleased with the result.
She picked up her black cashmere shawl and draped it around her shoulders with an easy grace. It would be warm enough, she figured, since she’d be in Luc’s car and the club most of the time, and not outside more than a minute or two.
Since she wore her strappy black stilettos again, she chose the elevator—taking the stairs the previous week had been nothing short of life-threatening. She felt a twinge of nerves thinking about another evening with Luc. But he was such a gentleman and had made their previous Friday such relaxed fun … even with her tango anxiety. She shook the nerves off.
