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Big grin, arms thrown wide, chest puffed. “I am indeed.”
Her frown is as big as Joe’s grin. “Does your mother know you plan to sell the house?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t sell it from under her, even if I am joint owner.”
“Is she staying in the nursing home permanently?”
“No, she’s moving to Chicago.”
Angélique curls into herself and a deep moan reverberates around the room. “I don’t believe it. Tante Louisette would never leave Vancouver.” She means Maman would never leave her and her sons.
“We’re leaving tomorrow.”
“I will lose everything I love. I won’t let you do it.”
“I have to go back to the hospital later, so I’ll bring all this with me.” I wave at the bags as if it’s no big deal. “You might as well go now. And thank you so much for taking Maman to the emergency room the other evening.”
She sniffles, gropes for nonexistent tissue, then wipes her nose on her sleeve. “Of course.”
I hold out my hand, palm up. “Key, please. You won’t need it again.”
Practically throwing it at me, she skirts the fallen sacks and races out the door.
Yannick peers at the contents. “Funny things to take.” He lifts out a porcelain figurine and a pearl and gold necklace.
“Joe, why don’t you start looking at the rooms while I deal with this.” An idea hits me. “Joe, do you know someone who does estate sales?”
“Do I know someone…” He guffaws. “Do I, Yannick?”
“Suzi.”
“Great. Let’s keep it in the family, then. I’ll find out what, if anything Maman wants to keep, and you can sell the rest.”
In the meantime, the porcelain figurine goes back onto the mantelpiece. Then I pick up the bags by their handles to return Maman’s things to her room.
“Gonna tell her?” Yannick twists the augur sticking out of my chest.
“I don’t see disclosure doing anything except causing a relapse. Maybe someday, when she’s happy in Chicago, but not now.”
Maman doesn’t need to know Angélique has lost her halo.
ChapterThirty
You can keep as quiet as you like, but one of these days somebody is going to find you.—Haruki Murakami
Micki
Dorothy curls on my lap,her warm, vibrating body soothing. I need a pet. The text message dings, and I startle. Dorothy looks annoyed as she resettles herself.
THE DEVIL: One other small piece of paperwork to be signed.
The cat nudges my hand, demanding attention but I ignore her. Frozen, I can’t stop looking at the screen. Even if there is some overlooked piece of paperwork, the message would never come from him. Either a secretary or HR would get in touch, probably by email.
JL will be back soon. He called last night with an update on his mom. I’m not sure how I feel about her moving to Chicago, but he’s seeing a realtor today. Maybe I should call him? Not that there’s anything he can do from Vancouver, except the sound of his voice would make me feel so much better.
Dithering, I wonder if I should consider it spam and dump it. Or have Max look at it. I don’t really want to call the firm and ask what’s going on.
Cress heads for her special reading chair with a cup of tea and her Kindle. “What’s up? Why are you sitting there like an ice sculpture?”
