Themairie’s foyer had stone floors, antique light fixtures, and a few doors off of the hall on either side. At the end were glass-paned double doors leading to a neglected courtyard where a dry fountain had been overtaken by brambles and dead plants, as if suspended in time.
Rémy stepped into an office and flicked on ugly overhead fluorescents dangling from the plaster and square beam ceiling. Behind the front counter were two desks piled with paperwork, garbage cans overflowing. Everyone else followed.
“Alors,”said Rémy, plunking her things on the counter. She eyed Marlow. Waiting.
“Est-ce-que vous parlez anglais?”asked Marlow. She didn’t think she could manage this conversation in French.
Rémy lifted her eyebrows, sighed, and nodded.
“Thank you,” said Marlow, appreciative, pulling out a few printed emails. “Because it’s a long story. I bought a one-euro house over the internet in Canada—I was overtired and didn’t realize what I was doing. And then I saw that a thirty-thousand-euro security deposit was frozen on my credit card, which I’m amazed it actually covered, but that’s not the point. Anyway. I tried to get a refund of the one euro over email, but the reply said refunds were only available in person, and I had to claim the house within two months or the security deposit would be taken as a penalty, which I really can’t afford. So here I am. Not to claim the house, but to sort this out.”
“Which house did you buy?” asked Rémy.
“It’s called Maison Perdue.Don’t get me wrong, it would be a dream to have a house in France, especially one called Maison Perdue, but I can’t manage it.”
Rémy did not make any motion to take the paperwork.
“See?” said Marlow. She pushed the papers in Rémy’s direction. They sat there.
“This house is charming,” said Rémy.
“I’m sure it is. Can you help me?”
“Yes, but not perhaps in the way you are hoping. There are two problems. First, we are not offering refunds.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because the one-euro program is too important for our region.”
“But the email said I could get a refund.”
“That was Madame LaFleur. She does not have the authority to say such a thing.”
“Who does?”
“I do,” said Rémy. “I am the headfonctionnaireof the program.”
“Great. I was told I could get a refund. It says right here.”
“It is incorrect.”
“But whether it’s false or Madame LaFleur has the authority,” said Marlow, “those things aren’t my responsibility. You can’t change policy like that.”
“But it was never policy, Madame. It was an error. I will speak with Madame LaFleur when she returns from holiday.”
“What about your superior? Can I speak to them?”
Rémy narrowed her eyes. “You can certainly go to theintercommunauté. That is your right. But they are sympathetic to our problem. And they, too, are on holiday.”
“Until when?”
“September.”
“September?!” Marlow inhaled, trying to get oxygen to her brain. Sabine fidgeted. Guillaume glanced at his shoes. “So … to be clear, I made a mistake and bought a one-euro house. And then a thirty-thousand-euro hold was put on my credit card without my permission.”
“It was all stated in the rules and regulations, Madame.”
“And I was told I could get a refund, so I spent nineteen hundred dollars on two tickets to get my one euro back and avoid the penalty.”
