Page 14 of One Last Step

I raise my eyebrow, and Sophie sighs and says in a less prissy voice.“I’ll be careful.”

“Good.Now off to bed.It’s late.”

“Come on,” I tell her.“Let’s go.”

I take her hand and lead her to the elevator.When the door closes, I ask, “So, are you going to be a horologist one day?”

She giggles and covers her mouth.“That’s a funny word.It sounds like whore.”

I give her a stern look.“That is not a word for young ladies.”

She smiles innocently.“I thought itwasa word for young ladies.A certain type of young lady, anyway."

It seems Miss Sophie has a healthy mischievous streak.I have to fight to keep my stern look.“Sophie, that is not an appropriate word.”

Her smile fades, and she lowers her head.“Sorry.”

“That’s all right.Just watch your language.That is a very unkind word, and you are not to use it about anyone else.Nor are you ever to allow it to be used against you.And that is the last you and I will talk about it.Understood?”

She nods.“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.”The elevator door opens, and I repeat my question.“Are you going to be a horologist?”

She shrugs.“Maybe.I’ll own a lot of old clocks for sure.I don’t know if I’ll go to school for it, though.I like learning the way Francois learned.He just started practicing one day and never stopped.”

“That’s the best way to learn,” I agree.“Now off to bed with you.”

She scampers into her room.“Night, Mary!”

“Good night, Sophie.”

When her door closes behind her, I release the laughter I’ve been holding.I’ve missed the innocence of childhood.My opinion toward Elena warms a little as well.She can’t be all that bad of a person with a granddaughter this wonderful.

***

If there’s a stereotype for a kindly old watchmaker, then Francois Bertrand fits that stereotype.He is a stooped, wizened man of eighty, but behind his thick glasses, his eyes are sharp, and his hands are strong and steady.He wears a checkered shirt, knee-length shorts with suspenders, long stockings and brown leather shoes.

He greets me with a grandfatherly smile.“You must be Miss Mary.Elena’s told me all about you?”

I smile wryly.“Good things, I hope,” I reply semi-seriously.

“Good enough.”

That’s just cryptic enough to concern me, but any chance I might have had to press him for more information is gone when a blur of energy leaps off of the ground and lands into Francois’s arms.“Francois!”

Francois—not bothered at all by the sixty-pound tornado that just struck him—wraps Sophie in a bear hug and laughs heartily.“Well, well.It looks like someone’s excited to learn all about caring for clocks properly.”

Sophie nearly explodes with energy, jumping off of Francois and bouncing up and down on her feet.“Yes!Yes!Can you show me how to fix the cuckoo clock?”

Francois sighs.“I assume you mean the automata clock?”

She rolls her eyes.“Yes, theautomata clock.Can you show me how to fix it?”

He tilts his head and cups his chin with his hand.“I suppose we could start with that one.Perhaps Miss Mary would like to help as well.”

The color drains from my face, but the decision is taken from my hands.Actually, it probably wasn’t mine to begin with.

“Yes!She’d love to!”Sophie replies with all of the certainty of a child who can’t conceive of anyone not loving something as much as they do.

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