“Well, we didn’t get an invite, so it feels like a secret to me,” said Iris.
“I will see if Lali needs help,” said Pierre, making himself scarce.
“She was going to invite you,” said Sabine, “things just got busy. And it’s a fundraiser for everyone in Mirabelle, actually, so it’s not just Mum’s party. We’d love for you to come.”
“I for one think it’s got a whiff of desperation about it,” said Bill. “Your mother got herself into this mess and now she’s pulling others down with her. And what can you possibly auction off that will raise the money you need? Tonight will be a miserable failure.”
“I don’t think it’ll be a failure,” said Sabine. “Uncle Noah’s going to cook—”
“A killer menu if I do say so myself,” he said.
“People from all around are coming,” said Sabine. “I don’t know if we’ll raise enough, but we can try. At the very least, it’llbe fun. I’m proud of her for making it happen.” Her grandparents were always so quick to think of her mum as a loser.Screw it,she thought.I’m not playing these games anymore.“And if you don’t want to come, I’m sure Madame Belleville would be happy to have you just hang out at her place for the night.”
She didn’t want this to be a failure like her grandfather predicted. What more could she do? She needed to think of something.
Marlow headed to the Nenierhôtel de ville, breath shallow. She’d thrown industry parties at Renegade—not single-handedly, of course. There was a legendary woman at the festival whose entire job description was parties: they called her Party Patti. She ran events for thousands, shutting down entire city blocks, coordinating food, entertainment, permits, security, you name it. Marlow often got free tickets to these events for her parents, who loved to hobnob with the stars, and for Noah, who was considered in many circles a bit of a star himself. So why did her chest hurt? Now would not be a convenient time to have a heart attack.
There was Rémy’s car in the lot. Marlow’s lungs squeezed tighter.Relax. She’s not the monster you’ve made her out to be. She’s just a self-aggrandizing, paper-pushing official determined to make your life hell.
Marlow stepped into thehôtel de villeand found Rémy sorting through mail.
“Bonjour,”said Rémy, frosty. Par for the course.
“Bonjour,”said Marlow. “I wondered if I could have the keys to the businesses in Mirabelle square. Just for today. We’re doing a … community clean-up.”
“Is this for your little party?”
Busted. Marlow steeled herself for some BS thing Rémy would invent about the need for permits. Or an arcane bylaw they were breaking that would take down the whole fundraiser.
“Yes, it would be nice to have the lights on,” said Marlow. “Make it seem lived in.”
“Did you not think the localfonctionnaireshould be invited to such an event?”
Oh. My. God.Rémy was offended she hadn’t been invited. Not offended. Hurt. “Yes! I’m so sorry—I meant to invite you, I just—yes.”
“Et en plus, should thatfonctionnairenot be asked to make a speech?”
“Oh Rémy, that would be excellent.”
“Then certainly.” Rémy walked to the key drawer. “Let’s see … the post office, bicycle rentals, the fruit and vegetable store, church, restaurant.”
“And themairie,” said Marlow.
“Ah, non,that is my office!”
“OK,” said Marlow, “if you want the only dark place in the square to be themairie…”
Rémy paused, then passed over the keys. “If they are not returned tomorrow—”
“There will be a fine.”
“Exactement.In fact, you can give them to me tomorrow at your appeal.”
The shoes Madame Belleville had found for Sabine—blue slingbacks, literally from the fifties—were not made for comfort, but they looked so good and matched the light blue off-the-shoulder vintage dress that Madame Belleville had pulled from a garment bag. It had a tight bustier that she zipped up for Sabine under her arm, and a crinoline underskirt. Madame Belleville had also lent her a rhinestone necklace and earrings and tamed her normally unruly hair into an updo.
Turned out, Madame Belleville had been the winner of the region’s beauty pageant four times in her youth and had a closetof to-die-for dresses. It made her so happy to see Sabine in her outfit that she got dressed up herself in another fabulous number. Sabine felt like a princess but worried it was over the top, especially when Bill and Iris appeared in mildly dressy clothes, he in a sports jacket, and she in a sweater set, and eyeballed Sabine’s outfit.
Before they could make a comment, Madame Belleville said, “She isbelle, non?” and Sabine’s grandparents said nothing. Sabine took several selfies to send to Willa later.
