Page 83 of The Velvet Hours
“I have lived my whole life coveting beautiful treasures from centuries past. I’ve held books in my hands that have withstood flooding, fires, and raids. But nothing is more precious than a child. I would do anything in the world to save my son and yet, I am completely powerless to help him.”
Monsieur Armel’s voice broke off.
I walked over to place my hand on his back. I felt his bones beneath the tweed and was struck by how fragile he had become.
“I, too, wish I could do something.” The words broke in my throat. I swallowed them, painful as bits of glass.
“He should be here any moment.” I felt Monsieur Armel’s back straighten beneath my palm. “We will do him no favors if he sees we are already mourning him.
“So please, no tears, Solange.”
I nodded.
Just then we both heard the jangle of the bell and Alex’s voice fill the air.
“Papa?” The sound of his voice made my heart flutter.
I could hear his approaching footsteps.
When he reached the back of the store, his face brightened at the sight of me.
“Solange?” A smile formed across his face. “What a wonderful surprise.”
“I knew today would be hectic for you.” I stumbled out an apology. “It’s almost unfathomable to imagine that tomorrow you’ll be getting your uniform.”
I struggled to continue. “I have no idea if you’ve even begun to pack...”
Alex’s eyes softened. “I packed this morning. I probably have too many socks.” He tried to make a joke, but neither Monsieur Armel nor I could bring ourselves to laugh.
“I must confess the reason that I’m here. In addition to wanting to see you before you leave, my grandmother has put me up to some unexpected business.”
Alex pulled off his jacket and placed it on the chair. “And what sort of business might that be?”
“It’s a social request on her part.” I blushed.
Alex’s face suddenly turned curious.
“I know my timing must seem callous considering how precious every last moment with Alex is for you...”
I took a deep breath. “But my grandmother would like to extend an invitation for both of you to come to dinner tonight.”
I was so confident that Monsieur Armel would politely decline, that I had already imagined his voice conveying their regrets. It took me by complete surprise when I heard him say: “I think we will all be grateful for the distraction, dear Solange. So please tell your grandmother we are very appreciative of her request.”
***
They arrived at half past seven. Monsieur Armel and Alex both in dark suits. One could see their resemblance now that they were bothdressed in their best clothes. Monsieur’s white hair was smoothed back in pomade, his glacial blue eyes piercing. It appeared he had undertaken great lengths to camouflage his mental anguish.
That afternoon we had heard that Hitler was directing his troops toward Norway. Their footsteps were pounding across Europe, boots striking against pavement and arms raised in Fascist salute. Food was increasingly scarce in Paris. Giselle had to bribe the butcher to get even a few scraps to make a pot-au-feu. But Marthe was at her finest when it came to creating a stage of beauty out of almost nothing.
My grandmother, who had looked fragile for weeks, had transformed herself from the last time I had seen her, just as Alex’s father had from this morning. She stood in front of her painting, her hair perfectly coiffured, her face radiant with the arrival of new guests.
I saw Monsieur Armel take a step back, as though he had walked into something wholly unexpected. Grandmother opened her arms like a great actress greeting an audience from the stage.
“Monsieur Armel... Alex... I’m so delighted you’ve come.”
***
She came alive that evening. Her arms danced as she spoke. Her eyes glimmered. I saw her as a coquette, as a hostess, and as a femme fatale, who used every word, every movement, to charm.
