Page 87 of The Velvet Hours
I helped Giselle finish drying the pots and waited there hoping to hear Grandmother stirring from her bedroom.
“Let her sleep, Giselle,” I insisted. “You go out and enjoy your day.”
I was anxious to see Alex. I wanted to be alone with him and talk freely. I wanted to feel his hand in mine and walk through the park; I wanted to breathe in the fresh spring air. But I felt conflicted knowing that Marthe was in her room suffering.
I walked out of the kitchen, down the golden parquet floors in the hallway to the far room where Marthe slept. I slowly opened the door to catch a glimpse of her.
Marthe was asleep with a silk mask over her eyes. Her long hair was let out from its combs and flowed over her shoulders. At the crown of her hair, I could see the roots coming in all white.
She appeared majestic as she slept. It was my second time seeing her in bed, and her silk upholstery with the embroidered butterflies once again enthralled me. I wondered what she dreamt of now that she no longer had suitors calling her, the salons she had hosted years before were now a thing of the past. I wondered if when she dreamt she saw herself as that young, beautiful being that Boldini had painted above the mantel, or if she ever dreamt of me.
44.
April 1940
As Marthe slept, I left the apartment in search of Alex. Outside, the almond blossoms covered the pavement in a blanket of white petals. I tried to savor the gift that Marthe had given us, the knowledge that Alex would not be sent to war. It amazed me how each day could differ from the next. Only yesterday, I believed it might be the last time I would hold Alex’s hand. Today, I was given a reprieve. But I also suspected Monsieur Armel would now be working as hard as possible to secure a way for him and Alex to leave Europe.
I knew better than to look for Alex at the shop in the Marais, as the Armels had given up the lease. I suspected the two of them would be at their residence on the Rue Chardon-Lagache. I took the Métro close to their address and then searched for a phone box on the street to let him know I was in close proximity.
“I’m near your apartment,” I told Alex from the phone box.
“You’re welcome to visit us here,” he said. “But don’t be surprised if Papa hugs you. He is still floating from all that happened last night.”
I laughed. “I’ll be over in just a minute.”
Once outside their building, I pressed the buzzer and pushed the door open. It was a beautiful classical building much like Marthe’s. A checkerboard of marble stretched across the lobby floor. The walls were painted in an opaque chalk white. In the center of the lobby was an iron-caged elevator, but I opted instead for the stairs. By the time I reached the fifth-floor landing, Alex had already opened the door.
“Good morning.” He kissed me on both cheeks. “Now when I see that smile on your face, I realize yesterday evening wasn’t a dream.”
“No, it wasn’t.” I stepped into the apartment. “I told you my grandmother possessed a bit of magic.”
“You weren’t joking, were you?”
“I hardly ever joke,” I teased.
“Come, let me tell Papa you’re here. He’s in the library sorting through some boxes from the store.”
I followed him down the hall and through a set of French doors. The room opened and revealed an extensive library. If Grandmother’s apartment smelled like a garden of flowers, the Armels’ was rich with the fragrance of books. The perfume of ink and wood pulp. The smells of leather and hide.
I breathed in deeply. How I loved the scent.
“Solange!” Monsieur Armel stood up from his desk to greet me. “After last night I should call you my angel.” He opened up his arms and embraced me.
“Please pardon our appearance. Alex and I live like woodsmen here,” he laughed, releasing me from his arms. “The books are our trees.”
“I only wish my mother could have seen all this,” I said as I gestured to the floor-to-ceiling shelves. My eyes took in the old bindingsin red Valiant leather with gilt-embossed titles. In the corner of the room was a movable ladder that slid across the shelves. “She would have been amazed.”
“Your grandfather’s apartment was equally as filled with books just as ours. Perhaps he had even more...”
I scanned the room again and tried to imagine my mother living in an apartment just like this one. I had always thought her bookshelf in our living room was formidable, but to live amidst all these works, some of them priceless in value, seemed incredible.
Monsieur Armel’s eyes traveled over his crowded shelves and the stack of books on his desk, and he shook his head. “We’ve acquired too much over the past two years. So many families left, and I bought their inventory. I hedged my bets incorrectly, it seems. I thought they were all foolish for leaving Paris. But now I’m here writing urgent letters to America, buried in a tomb of books, while they’re all safely across the Atlantic.”
He came over and squeezed Alex’s shoulder. “But I still consider myself a lucky man after last night.”
I smiled. I, too, was thankful. “It was an extraordinary evening. I still can’t believe it all happened.”
“Come.” He gestured for me to follow him deeper into the room. “I want to give your grandmother a gift to show her Alex’s and my gratitude.” He walked toward the far side of the library and began to climb the ladder.
