“No way—I’m coming,” said Sabine. “It’s the final showdown between you and Rémy, and I need to see who wins.”
On their way, Marlow saw the magpie from before—only this time, with its mate. She pulled out her phone and shot a video of them, their blue-black, jewel-like wings shining. One nodded in her direction, as if it approved of what she was doing.Exactly whatwasshe doing? Could someone, some thing, give her a hint? But they flew off before she could ask.
Party remnants still littered the square: garbage that needed to be taken to the bins, Fedir’s lights, paper lanterns. But the stores were locked up, and the keys were in her pocket.
They stepped into themairie. Rémy stood there in a tailored suit and heels. Oh God. Marlow was wearing shorts splattered with periwinkle blue shutter paint, a T-shirt with a rip in it, and flip-flops. Sabine was only slightly better put together. Rémy eyed them both.
“We have been waiting,” she said. “It is a Sunday morning, and yet we are here on time, and in a … professional … manner.”
Marlow chose to ignore this and handed over the keys. “Sorry. And … as promised.”
Rémy pulled open a heavy wooden door at the end of the hall.“Après vous.”
Marlow and Sabine stepped forward, flip-flops thwacking the stone floors and echoing off the high ceiling. They were led into a paneled conference room with a heavy chandelier. Four people sat around a large wooden table with claw feet.
“Allow me to introduce you to theintercommunautécouncil,” said Rémy.“Je vous présente Madame Georgette Lafleur, Monsieur Bertrand Eugéne, Mademoiselle Noémie Dupuis, et Monsieur Théo Leblanc.”
“Bonjour,”said Marlow,“et merci d’être là le dimanche matin.”Thank you for being here on a Sunday morning.La dimanche? Le dimanche?Was Sunday feminine or masculine? Marlow wasn’t sure. She really needed to take French classes when they got back to Toronto.
People smiled politely. Marlow and Sabine sat in the two empty chairs.
“We will speak in English, as we know it is easier for you,” said Rémy. “You requested a refund; I said that was not ourpolicy. You insisted on an appeal. I have asked my staff back to work a day early to consider your request. We do not want to keep anyone here who does not want to be here. Ourcommunautéis too important to us. Too special. We care about life here.”
As if Marlow didn’t. Rémy’s superciliousness could really get under your skin.
“Therefore,” said Rémy, “we agree to your request for a refund, and your request to refuse ownership of Maison Perdue.” Rémy slid a one-euro coin across the table. “I have already released the thirty-thousand-euro security deposit from your credit card. You are free to go.”
There had been so much on Marlow’s plate, she’d only focused on waiting for the appeal, rather than what to do when she got there. It would’ve been a simple thought process: either she got the refund and made one choice, or she didn’t, and made a different choice. But getting her mind in gear had utterly escaped her.
Marlow looked out at themairie’s overgrown courtyard. The weeds had taken over. Vines with thick trunks grew up the old, crumbling stone walls.I know how to fix them,thought Marlow.
“Et?”said Rémy. Everyone was waiting, Sabine included.
Marlow unzipped her purse and pulled out a thick envelope of cash. She slid it across the table right by the euro coin. “First, here are the back taxes for my house, as well as Madame Belleville’s, Lali and Fedir’s, and Luc’s. Everyone is paid up in full.”
The council members, Rémy especially, were stunned.
“Next, as far as the house goes,” said Marlow. Everyone was on tenterhooks, Marlow included. She had no idea what she might say next. “I’ll let you know. Have a wonderful fall.” Marlow stood up abruptly. “Sabine?”
“Mais, pardon?”asked Rémy, baffled.
Marlow headed for the exit, followed by Sabine. Rémy scrambled after her. “You cannot leave like that with no answer.”
“We have a plane to catch, and I want to make a thoughtful decision, because, as you said, thecommunautéis too important for anything less.”
Sabine and Marlow found Madame Belleville waiting on the bench with a bag. “How was it, the request?”
“Très bien. Tous les arriérés d’impôts sont payés,”said Marlow, switching into French out of respect. Sabine was impressed that her mother knew the French for “the back taxes have all been paid.” Their French had improved over the summer.
“We will speak the English, as it is yourlangue,” said Madame Belleville, “and you maytutoisme and call me Marguerite, because we are friends. You are included, Sabine.”
Sabine could have been knocked over by a feather. Madame Belleville did not offer to be called by her first name. It was just not the right order of things.
“Thank you, with all my heart, for the pay of taxes,” said Madame Belleville. “Lali had said to me. This is the most wonderful.”
“We didn’t do it,” said Marlow. “Everyone at the fundraiser did.”
“Still,” said Madame Belleville, stern, shutting down further objections.
