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“I stand by my assessment. It’s been forever since I’ve felt a real mattress.”
“You take a power nap, then. I’ll jump in the bath for a few minutes, then get dressed while you wash up.
“Mm-hmm,” was all I could manage to respond.
It felt so nice on the bed, but I forced myself to get up. If I went to sleep, I’d never rise again to eat. The room was lovely, with bright eggshell walls and vases arranged with lilies and irises. I opened a bottle of Orangina from the minifridge and stepped through the bay door leading to our Juliet balcony. There I stood until my time came to shower, basking in the sublime spring breeze and ogling the young men speeding past on Vespas.
Forty-five minutes later, we were all seated at a brasserie at the center of town, enjoying Bordeaux and munching from a crudité platter at the center of the table. I had my new dress on, along with one of my mother’s sterling silver bracelets. I had even spritzed on a little Donna Karan perfume, one of the few luxuries I had packed before leaving the US.
Thomas had a black blazer over his polo shirt, and Mary wore an understated midi dress and cardigan combo. It was Gail that blew us all away, though. She was certainly pretty, always. No doubt about that, but sitting there at dinner, she was a knockout. Her curly brown locks leaped from her head like a firework, and she wore just a little blush and some magenta lipstick. Her new dress, a brown and red mini with a geometric diamond pattern and dipping neckline accentuated her small, vivacious frame. How had she not snatched up a paramour at Stormcloud yet?
Thomas ordered for the table—beef bourguignon and trout with sorrel sauce to share, along with dishes of frites and green beans. Plus, a second bottle of wine. I wasn’t much of a drinker, but this Bordeaux was sweet and spicy, and it warmed me wonderfully.
“Mr. and Mrs. Monfort,” I said, “I can’t thank you enough for including me on this trip. And for the lovely clothes.”
“Don’t mention it, love,” said Thomas.
“We’re pleased that Gail has such a lovely, caring friend at school.”
For a moment, we all smiled silently. Then, Thomas looked seriously at his wife. They nodded, and Mary added:
“The fact of the matter is … we wanted both of you here because we know you look out for each other. That’s important, especially now.”
“How do you mean, Auntie?” Gail asked, concerned.
Thomas jumped in. “You see, darling: there’s a reason we asked you to meet us in Wachsbrunnen instead of driving to the school. Your father was brought up in an upper-middle-class family. He was very bright, personable, and had many friends. However, he also had enemies. You see, Douglas attended the Stormcloud Academy. Of course, that was almost thirty years ago, but his parents sent him there to rub elbows with the wealthier families of Europe. They believed in the power of connections and wanted Douglas to aim even higher than their already comfortable station. His time at Stormcloud wasn’t especially pleasant, though.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” I replied.
“It was more than just boarding school awfulness,” Thomas continued. “Douglas was a straight shooter, as you Yanks would say. He had a rough falling-out with some influential students. He was initially invited to join their coterie but quickly became disenchanted by the things they were doing. It seems he reported them to the local authorities and faced threats and reprisals afterward. That’s why he was always so cautious about you and your mum.”
“Why am I just now hearing this now?” Gail asked. “Why did you let me come to the school?”
“I kept my promise and took you in,” Thomas pleaded. “Then came the letter—the scholarship to attend here. I wasn’t sure, but I agreed because I believed it was your father’s will—that he bequeathed the money for tuition and his attorney was handling the details. You were excited about being here, and certainly, Mary was in favor of it. We felt your living with us would stunt your opportunities.”
Mary leaned forward. “It was thirty years ago, Gail. Things were different then. Children were not as well protected. We assumed Stormcloud had changed with the time. Why else would your father arrange to send you there?”
“Then we heard a student was attacked weeks ago, on campus,” interrupted Thomas. “It brought back my initial fears. It was a mistake to hide this from you, dear. But I think you should stick it out, at least through the year. Stormcloud has its problems, God knows, but this is still an important opportunity.”
“Biba, darling,” Mary added, “we need you to look after our sweet girl.”
“Of course, Mrs. Montfort,” I promised, though I didn’t grasp what I was promising.
