“They won’t take the car back. I asked.”
“I wasn’t talking about the car.” At Bastien’s confusion, he added: “That studio you are so headstrong about keeping is only gathering dust—”
“No.”
Monsieur Ménard pressed his lips together. “As you wish then.”
Curling his fists tightly into his lap, Bastien tried to push his luck. “And if I don’t do as you say?”
“You will.”
That was it then: short, blunt, final. No room for argument. No room for useless apologies with his grandfather.
“That is all for now,” Monsieur Ménard said flatly. “Go and make yourselves presentable. We are to dine with the LeBeaus tonight at their house. And Bastien?” His grandfather paused by the doorway. “I forgot to mention it. You are to stay elsewhere as well.”
Bastien’s spine locked. “I beg your pardon?”
“You are kicking him out?” Jacques and Anaïs asked in unison. Jacques, at least, had the decency to look bewildered. His lips parted as though he wanted to apologise to his brother but they both knew he wouldn’t with Grandfather there.
Good. Because Bastien didn’t care for Jacques’s delayed guilt either. This had just turned into something bigger thantheir usual quarrels and the sibling rule of fighting and forgetting ten minutes later would fail to mend anything.
“A halfhearted punishment will only teach a halfhearted lesson,” their grandfather said. There was an almost pained expression in his eyes which Bastien would have believed, had it not shifted into disappointment within seconds. Monsieur Ménard heaved a burdening sigh. “I hope this time will put things into perspective for you. Find what’s meaningful in life, because believe it or not Bastien, not all pleasurable things are worth chasing after.”
Bastien would beg to differ. That Cadillac was quite worthy.
“Where do you suppose I am to stay?” he demanded curtly.
“Use that brilliant imagination of yours. I’m sure there’s another inspirational figure out there like Edward of Wales who has been in this position before. Imitate them this time.”
He didn’t wait for Bastien’s response when he picked up his hat and left the office.
A heavy, palpable silence settled in the room. Bastien stared at the slit that had formed between the curtains and watched as his grandfather greeted someone in the driveway. When the car drove away, he slumped into his chair, his mind roiling.
Anaïs was the first to start fidgeting, picking up her pearls, twirling the string around her finger and letting it uncoil before she picked it up again. Bastien cringed at the sound.
“Well,” she started. “That was—”
“Insane,” Bastien finished the thought for her. “The old man has gone insane.”
Jacques scoffed. “When he has you to contend with…”
“You,” Bastien threatened, “don’t talk.”
Gracefully, Jacques rose from his seat and walked out of the room.
No way in hell.
Bastien marched for the door. He caught Jacques at the base of the staircase and clasped his shirt in a forceful grip. “You don’t get to leave just like that.”
Jacques eyed the wrinkles on his racing uniform. “Fun as it was to watch him nail you, I have to practice. If you’ll excuse me.” He tried to extricate himself from the grip.
Bastien did not budge.
“I don’t want to fight, Bas.”
“You should have thought about that before becoming Grandfather’s snitch.”
“Bastien!” Anaïs tried to squeeze between them, simultaneously tugging them away from the stairwell. “I will talk to Grandfather, he likes me most. He’s not going to kick you out if I ask him—”
