She passed Sabine the bag. “I have made the lunch for the airplane, if this is not given. And the little bites between the lunch and the dinner.”
“Thank you so much,” said Sabine.
“Pierre picks us up in an hour,” said Marlow.
“Then I will walk with you,” said Madame Belleville. “Because I have a thinking.”
The day was getting more interesting by the moment.
“I do not know how much long I can stay in Mirabelle. I am old. Maybe until my last days, and they find me in the bed, dead. Maybe I move to themaison de retraitein Neufchâteau. And if I go, I asked myself, does Marlow wish my house?”
Marlow and Sabine stopped dead in their tracks.
“I have noparenté, uh, how do you say?” asked Madame Belleville.
“Relatives?” offered Sabine.
“Correct. But I feel you are these people.”
“What would we do with your house?” asked Marlow.
“I do not know, but when I call you themaireof Mirabelle, I was not making ablague—a funny saying. My house has always been La Maison du Magistrat. You are closest to our magistrate. So it should be yours.”
Marlow got so emotional she couldn’t talk.
“My mum thanks you,” said Sabine. “She’s just a bit overwhelmed at the moment.”
Madame Belleville, teary, pulled a hanky from her sleeve and blew her nose like a truck driver. It looked like she was overwhelmed, too.
Sabine was trying to figure out how to fit everything into her luggage as Aubin closed her bedroom window and shutters.
“You have to keep some of this,” she said, eyeing everything she’d bought in Paris, ten tiny books she’d made while she was here, and the rusted Eiffel tower keychain, exercise book of alphabet practice, old city maps and rabbit figurine from the courtyard. “I can’t take it all back.”
“Keep the book about your father,” he said. “The patron rabbit saint of Maison Perdue should remain in the courtyard to keep watch. And you can always wear two layers of clothing.”
“Good idea.”
“I don’t want you to go back to Canada.”
“I don’t want to go back either,” she said, tracing the line of his face, jaw, neck, Adam’s apple, to commit it all to memory. She kissed him on the lips. “But I’ll be back.”
“Could you hurry?”
Luc packed luggage into the back of the tour bus in the Nenier parking lot. Bill was furious with Iris, because they’d forgotten to check into the flight, and she should have reminded him to do it. Iris claimed she’d been distracted by the fundraiser. Noah took the blame but didn’t care because he was planning in whispers with Pierre when they’d next see each other. Pierre, a travel agent, had a few flight deals up his sleeve that interested Noah deeply.
“Noah,” snapped Iris. “Focus, please. Get us checked into this flight.”
Marlow turned to Guillaume, who had come to say goodbye. “So once I’m in the United States,” he said, “I’ll reach out about coming to Toronto. I can be your date to Yves’s opening.”
“That is a terrible idea.”
“I can kiss you on the red carpet and make him envious. Then I can fight him in front of everyone—I know how you like that public display of testosterone.”
“That would also help immensely with my job at Renegade, so definitely plan for it.”
“I know you haven’t made up your mind about me or Luc, but I’m in this. I want you.”
It made Marlow shiver, but Luc was only two feet away in the bus. So was her kid. And her parents. “When I know what I’m doing, I promise to let you know.”
