The Seven Turns of the Snail's Shell: A Novel (20 page)

Anna gave him a quick, flat grin and walked into the room.

“Will you two stay for dinner then?” Lucie was up from her seat.

Anna looked inquisitively at C-C.

“Lucie, it would be wonderful to have dinner in the
resto
. I wonder if we might see the old apartment before we dine?”

“But of course. It is not locked; go on up. I’ll see to the duck. Oh,
Monsieur
Charlie, there is one other thing. Your dear mother left a box for you. It’s sitting on the bookshelf where your father put it. He said that if you ever showed up, I should be sure and give it to you.”

Anna and C-C climbed the back stairs to the family apartment.

C-C’s face was somber. “My father is not here, Anna. We have missed him today.”

“What was all that secretiveness about? Silencing her, I mean, and closing the door. What happened?”

“It is nothing…”

But Anna’s antenna was up. Something told her that there was more to this story.

Anna and C-C entered the apartment via a doorway that opened into a small, square hall painted in a light blue color with a black-and-white checkerboard-style tiled floor. An antique windowed wooden hutch held crystal and china. Two clean, white aprons hung on a metal coat rack next to the hutch. There were two doors off the hall. One opened into a bright kitchen, also tiled in black-and-white, with white painted cupboards and white tiled countertops. Well-used copper pots and pans hung from hooks on the ceiling. An alcove held an outsized wine rack filled with bottles.

C-C led Anna through the second door, which opened into the main sitting room of the apartment. The room was furnished in overstuffed, blue, brocaded Louis XIV—style chairs and matching sofa. A single, antique brass lamp stood on a round pedestal table between the chairs, and two tall bookcases piled and stacked with books lined one wall. In a corner, by the lace-curtained window, stood a bust of Napoleon on a pedestal. Above the fireplace hung a painting of a couple in bridal attire standing in front of a town hall, and on the mantel stood a single, framed photo. Anna recognized it. It was the same one that was on Guy de Noailles’ mantel: a sepiatoned picture of Guy holding a small boy’s, C-C’s, hand in front of the Strasbourg Cathedral.

C-C motioned to Anna to have a seat on the sofa. He glanced briefly into a room to the immediate right, then walked down the hallway and disappeared into the room at the far end.

Nothing had changed in the entire apartment. It was just as it had been when C-C’s mother was alive. Standing in the middle of his old bedroom, he noted the warm, red plaid comforter laid over his bed, his childhood books on the small bookshelf. The carved wooden pull-toy with red wheels that had been made for him by his
grand-père
in Strasbourg sat on the woven rug, and the faded poster of Johnny Hallyday still hung on the wall where he had placed it as a teen. He stood in the room for a few minutes, allowing himself to be the young boy again for just an instant. So much had happened to him since he had left that room.

Anna was examining the books on the bookshelves when he returned to the sitting room. C-C came up behind her. The box Lucie had mentioned was sitting on top of a large world atlas. He lifted it off the shelf and held it in his hands. It was a square, tin box, ornately decorated with gold and silver, a biscuit tin that had probably originally held
galettes
. A note in stylishly feminine handwriting was taped to the cover: “
Pour Charles-Christian, un jour quand je suis partie
.” C-C pointed to the color reproduction of one of Monet’s paintings of the Rouen Cathedral in the center of the cover. “That was her favorite painting. It’s the cathedral where she and my father were married. She hung a framed print of it in their bedroom over the bed. It’s still there.”

“What do you think is in the box?”

“Oh, probably just some old photos and mementos of my mother’s.”

C-C placed the box on the pedestal table. He carefully broke the taped seal and opened the lid. The two of them hovered over it, peering together at the contents, which smelled strongly of perfume. C-C began carefully picking out items. First, there were several old frayed and bent black-and-white photos. Family photos. He placed them carefully on the table. Next, he picked out a small, black velvet pouch. Inside it was a red cord necklace with a square-shaped gold locket. The inscription on the locket in gold on bright red enamel read “
Je t’aime, Maman
.”

“I gave this to her for Mother’s Day one year,” he said, “when I was about nine. I remember that I got it free when my father and I bought her some lingerie.”

Another pouch made of white satin held a crystal and silver rosary. The box contained numerous other small objects, memories of his childhood: a blue rubber ball, a well-loved stuffed animal with one button eye missing, a miniature wooden replica of the astronomical clock in Strasbourg. He had just about emptied the contents of the box when he noticed something at the bottom, hidden under a white lace handkerchief embroidered with his mother’s initials. He lifted the handkerchief and turned pale. Anna turned pale herself as the two of them fixed their eyes in disbelief on a pile of unopened letters, all addressed to C-C, all postmarked from California.

C-C picked the brittle, dry, and yellowed tissue-thin
par avion
envelopes one by one out of the bottom of the box and spread them on the table. There were twenty-two in all. Some had been sent to the apartment address in Paris and forwarded by Elise to Rouen. Some had been sent directly to Le Canard à la Rouennaise.

“
Voilà.
” He sighed. “
Alors
, I guess this solves our great mystery.”

Anna sat down on the sofa. “Why do you think she saved them? What purpose? If she didn’t intend for you to have them until after she died?”

“One can only speculate…it’s possible she retrieved them from the trash after they had been thrown out.”

“Every time I tried to call, your father answered. When he heard my voice, he would hang up. Do you suspect it was your father who threw out my letters?”

C-C nodded. “Who else wanted us apart so badly?”

“Is he that vicious?”

He nodded again. “He is an intense man, a ferocious man when he wants to be. He has a bad temper. My mother loved him, but she knew to rarely cross him. He was good to her. Saving the letters…” he swallowed hard, “it was her message to me…that she hadn’t agreed with his decision.”

“You mean he actually cut off relations with you because of me?”

“Not exactly because of you. I stood up to him over you. I declared my independence. That’s what got it going. Then everything exploded…I mean everything. All the old arguments we had came back. We couldn’t stand to be around each other. I stopped coming to Rouen to visit them. It probably broke my mother’s heart to see that happen. I didn’t see her for years, but she called me when she could…when he was out of the apartment. She knew you and I were still together, but she kept our secret. It never occurred to me until now that she knew you had left France…of course, she had to have known…because that’s when the letters started to arrive. I know I didn’t tell her you were gone. She never asked me about you after that. I was gone a lot…out of the country…for long periods. Then, all of a sudden two years ago she was very, very sick, and there was nothing that could be done to save her.” His chin was quivering. He sat down on the sofa beside Anna and buried his face in his hands. Anna put her hand on his arm. For the next few minutes, the only sound that could be heard in the apartment was the solemn ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway.

CHAPTER 34

D
ownstairs, Lucie’s kitchen was a flurry of activity. Sunday dinner guests were arriving in the restaurant, and she wanted to make an extra special meal for C-C and Anna. There was something else she wanted to do.

“
Allô
?”

“
Salut
, Léo.”

“Ah, Lucie.
Ça va
?”

“
Oui, oui, oui, bien sûr. Écoute
, Léo, are you coming to the
resto
for Sunday dinner, by any chance?”

“But of course,
ma chère
, do I ever miss your Sunday
spécialités
? What are we having today, may I ask?”

“Duck. Can you come early? I have a surprise for you. And bring Pierre with you, too. We will be dining in the family dining room.”

“Has Jacques returned?”

“
Non
, better than that. Charlie is here, with a young lady.”

“
Oh là là
, but this is great news! We’ll be there.
Salut
.” Léo La Bergère put down the receiver and rubbed his gnarled old hands together. “Such great news. He is all right after all.”

Lucie punched the call button again and dialed a long number. It was several rings before there was an answer on the other end.

“
Allô
, Jacques?”

“
Salut
, Lucie. Don’t tell me you have blown up my beautiful kitchen already.”

“
Non, non, et non
. Everything is just fine here. The duck will be
superbe
today.”

“
Eh bien
, congratulations! Are we just having a friendly Sunday chat, then?”

“You are in a jovial mood. Are you enjoying Provence?”

“
Beh oui.
The rain has quit for the time being. It’s going to be a nice day.”

“Same here. But cold.
Écoute
, Jacques, I have some good news. Charlie is here.”

The phone was soundless on the other end. Finally, Jacques coughed. “He is alive, then. How does he look, Lucie?”

“He looks tired, Jacques, older, but he is okay. I couldn’t get any information about what happened. He brought a young lady, a pretty one, with him. He didn’t want to talk in front of her. They are upstairs in the apartment. They wanted to see you. I invited them to have dinner. Léo and Pierre will join us.”

“
Ah bon
. Take two bottles of that vintage Château Haut-Brion from the back of the wine cellar, and make sure you set the table with the best china and crystal goblets from the hutch upstairs. Now, can you pass the phone to my apartment? I want to talk to Charlie. Oh, Lucie, remember about Nathalie’s biscuit tin. Make sure he gets it.”

Anna and C-C were still sitting on the sofa, staring in silence at the contents of the biscuit tin on the table, when the phone rang three short rings. C-C recognized the rings.

“That’s the kitchen. It’s probably Lucie wanting us to descend.” He got up and answered it.

“
Allô
, Lucie, we’ll be right down.”

“It’s not Lucie.” The familiar voice was his father’s. “
Salut
, Charlie. Lucie just told me that you are in Rouen. Are you all right? I was afraid…” the normally deep, growling voice sounded suddenly fragile and trailed off.

“
Oui
, Papa. I am all right. And you?”

“I decided to take a holiday. Running Diamanté’s
resto
is a lot simpler than running the Rouen restaurant. We don’t have the Sunday crowds—not yet anyway.” His familiar, gravelly chuckle came through the receiver.

“Papa, I have someone with me who is looking for Diamanté, coincidentally. Have you heard from him?”

“
Non
. But I would not worry yet. He’ll turn up. That’s what I told Guy yesterday. He was calling for the same reason. He’s worried about him since he always hears from him at Christmas.” Jacques’ voice changed. “Charlie,” he inquired cautiously, “who is this person who is looking for Diamanté?”

C-C was reluctant to tell Jacques that it was Anna. “It’s merely someone who wants to meet him.”

“
Ah bon
.”

“Are you coming back to Rouen for Christmas?”

“I hadn’t made plans. I thought you were…” again the silence, then a cough. “Are you back at the hospital in Paris?”

“Yes. Everything is
normale
, mostly. I’m working long hours…in the trauma center again.”

“Are you afraid?”

“Yes. Sometimes. We best not talk.”

“
Oui, bien sûr
.”

“I was thinking that maybe we should…would it be possible to get together? I would like to see you, Papa.”

“Do you want to come down here for Christmas? Take a little vacation?”

C-C looked over at the contents of his mother’s box strewn on the table.
Resolve this before I lose him, too
, he thought.

“I can request it. But the holidays are bad times for the ER.”

“Charlie, I’m sorry…about everything. We are, after all, Corsican. For your mother’s sake, let’s…” His father’s voice trailed off. The rest of the sentence wasn’t audible. Then there was silence, except for the sound of his breathing.

“Papa?” C-C turned around to look at Anna who was staring at him, her eyes wide.

“
Oui
?”

“Nothing.” C-C bid his father
au revoir
and put down the receiver.

“That was your father? Where is he?”