Page 63 of The Velvet Hours
Papa and I now stood in the hallway alone.
“Solange, be good and take care of yourself.” Papa clasped me around each arm. “Hopefully now you’ll have the chance to finish your novel.”
His expression was soft, his eyes slightly wet.
“Perhaps this is how all families are in the end. Imperfect, but still able to offer a helping hand when it’s needed...”
“Yes.” I smiled. “Please don’t worry. I’m in very good hands, and the accommodations couldn’t be better.” I gestured toward the parlor with all of its beautiful furniture and objets d’art on the shelves. The portrait of Marthe pulsed over the mantel.
“You’re right,” he said as he leaned forward to kiss me good-bye. “I’ll write when I get to the military hospital.”
“I’ll write you, too,” I promised.
“Finish your novel, daughter.” His words floated through the air as he let himself out. “Your mother’s bookshelf is incomplete without it.”
***
When he shut the door, I turned back to find Marthe standing at the end of the hallway.
“Are you all right, Solange?”
“Yes,” I whispered. I wondered if she could hear the crack in my voice as I answered her.
“When a door is closed,” she said as she began walking toward me, “it means another chapter is about to unfold.”
I nodded as I struggled to fight back my tears. My sorrow at Papa’s departure had taken me by surprise.
“Why don’t we go look at where you’ll be staying for the next few months? Giselle and I tried to make it as pleasant for you as we could.”
31.
Solange
December 1939
The room could not have been more perfect for me. A rosewood desk. A side table with a pitcher and basin. A small cot made up in crisp, white linen. Above the bed, cut into the plaster, was a diamond-shaped window that reminded me of a kite. Its panes capturing a view of the changing sky.
“I hope it’s to your liking,” Marthe announced as she waved me inside. I walked into the room while she remained standing at the threshold.
“You’ve made it so comfortable, thank you. I couldn’t ask for a lovelier room.” In the corner, I saw Giselle had brought in my suitcase. She always moved so stealthily, her every movement nearly imperceptible as she navigated through the apartment.
“There’s a small dresser for your clothes.” She pointed to a three-tier chest. “But I knew you’d enjoy the desk... I used to write all of my letters on it.”
A small sigh escaped her.
“Now I don’t have the need to write as many... ,” she said as she stepped into the center of the room.
“I’m looking forward to having you here, Solange. I haven’t had a houseguest in so long... ,” she told me as her fingers caressed her strand of pearls.
“And I’m grateful to you for your obliging my father. I would have stayed alone back at our apartment, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”
“There’s no reason for you to be alone. I have more than enough room for you.” She paused. “And I enjoy your company.”
I was surprised by her compliment. “And I enjoy yours. I’m glad Papa thought we’d make a good match.”
I lifted my suitcase onto the bed and unlatched it. On top was the wedding portrait of my parents.
I saw her eyes fall upon the photograph, her gaze weighted down by it like an anchor.
