Aubrielle's Call (14 page)

At the front of Asher’s, he pulled her hand free of his arm and kissed the back of her glove. “I’ll watch for you from here.”

Aubrielle’s eyes widened, and she raised her hand to her blushed face. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll return shortly.” She took a step back, still gazing into his eyes, then turned and entered the store.

Although the
café
’s outdoor tables remained empty, beyond the windows, the seats inside
were filled with diners. Several people waited at the entrance to give the
maître d'
their name.

John crossed the street and added his name to the list. As he walked back to the market, he saw a face he recognized.

Karl stood beside the entrance to Asher’s Market. With a pencil and journal in hand, he spoke briefly to each shopper who approached the Jewish store. He made notations in his book, and then would move on to the next customer.

John leaned his shoulder against the storefront stone facade and watched with interest.

Curious.

Aubrielle walked out the door, her purchases boxed and wrapped in brown paper.

Karl approached her, tipped his head and spoke for several moments.

Aubrielle nodded. As she listened, she reached up and touched her necklace. She replied to several questions, nodded to Karl, and then looked over and caught John’s gaze. Her smile brightened. She edged sideways to avoid two women going into Asher’s and made her way to John’s side.

John took her package. “What was that about?” he asked, with a nod toward Karl.

Bonet’s manservant had stopped the two women, making note of their answers. He opened the door for them to enter, then made another quick note in his book.

“The man asking questions?” Aubrielle glanced over her shoulder. “He works for Asher’s Market.” She grinned at John. “They’ll have a drawing on the last day of Hanukkah to give away a prize. He asked my name, address, and the names of everyone in my family. Papa has a chance to win too.” Aubrielle raised her eyebrows at John. “We’re lucky to have our names on the list.”

CHAPTER 21

Could Bonet’s valet have taken a second job?

“I put our name on the seating list at the
Jardin de Lune
.
”
John took Aubrielle’s elbow.

I’ll have Henri check with Asher’s Market.

John ground his teeth as uneasiness crawled between his shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry, John. I wish I could. Another time would be better.” Aubrielle paused with John in front of the café. “The restaurant is too busy, and I can’t be gone very long.
Tante
Mae is with Papa, but if her other baker becomes ill…” She shrugged one shoulder. Her dark eyes pleaded with him to understand.

“A brief stroll in the park, then. The fresh air and sunshine will do you good.” He held out his arm. “We’ll purchase pies from a vendor and still have you home in half the time.”

The path to the park led them toward the river and put the wind to their backs. John’s attention returned to the woman at his side, and he struggled with disbelief.

She chose to be here—with me.
His heart soared.

Sunlight sparkled across her necklace, and he blinked. A sudden foreboding curled low in his gut, and his mood darkened. Foreknowledge, a terrible gift given to him long ago, had seemed a distant fairy tale. Splendid with human advancement—flying machines and automobiles. Unbelievable in its horror.

And now here—with this woman—at this time and place.
Terrifying.

They waited at the streetlight then crossed the bridge over the Seine.

We’ll have to leave France, leave Europe altogether.

Those distant words had painted an ugly picture of a genocidal maniac.

London bombed and burned and trains leaving Paris bound for camps in Poland
.

“You’re quiet today,” Aubrielle observed. She pointed at a puddle of melted snow. They avoided the water and passed beneath the Eiffel Tower.

“I know.” He forced a smile and clamped down hard on his panic. “I’m sorry.”

I still have time.

Not far from the entrance, a food vendor sold warm meat pierogies to several servicemen. John and Aubrielle waited in line. When they held their meat pastry, they strolled to the closest bench and sat facing the sun.

“What’s on your mind?” Aubrielle bit into her pie and warm gravy ran down her chin. She giggled and held a napkin to her mouth. “Careful.”

Even her playful smile couldn’t lift his anxious mood. “I was reminded today of Hitler’s publication and how filled with hate the man is.” He shook his head.

I must carry this burden of knowledge in silence—or be thought insane.

“Don’t think of him.” She caught a drop of meat sauce on her tongue, then took another small bite. “He won’t get into France,” she assured, the napkin covering her lips.

Is it her youth or her trusting nature?

He bit into his pie, and it tasted like ash in his mouth.

I’ve lived too long, despite my appearance. Jaded and fearful.

He took another small bite, then tossed the pie and wrapper into the trash receptacle.

“Are you not hungry?” She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “You’re upset with me after all.”

“Not in the least.” John set back and rested his arm along the back of the bench. “But I am a fool to waste a precious day with you on fears of an uncertain future.”

Uncertain to some.

He took a deep breath and exhaled through pressed lips as he studied the blue winter sky.

I have an old man’s soul in a young man’s body.

He took the empty pastry wrapper she offered and tossed it into the trash.

And I ache with a young man’s need.

“Every moment with you is far too valuable to squander with worry.” He brushed her cheek with his knuckles.

She leaned into his touch and smiled. “Then don’t worry.”

“Hmm,” he chuckled and gestured with his other hand. “Over there, across the way. Do you know what happened there?”

She shook her head. “No. What do you mean?”

“That’s where you stood the first time I saw you.” He turned toward her and searched her eyes. “I swear—I’ve never seen anything or anyone, more beautiful.” He leaned forward and tasted her lips with a gentle brush of his mouth then drew back to gauge her reaction.

Her eyes opened and stared into his. She lifted her hand and touched the fingertips of her gloves to her lips. Then she reached out and caressed the side of his face, pulling it toward hers. “Again.” Her eyelashes fluttered closed, and she raised her face.

John ran his fingers through her hair behind her ear and listened for the small intake of breath he knew would follow.

Youth’s passion coupled with a legacy of loving memories.

“I know you.” He spoke too soft for her to hear, then lowered his mouth to hers.

Her lips parted beneath his, and she met his declaration with one of her own—without words, the tilt of her head spoke to him. The soft white gloved hand slipped behind his neck and held him close.

A pulse of desire spread downward from John’s gut.

And she knows me.

Thankful for the box of candles resting on his thighs, he broke the kiss and raised his head. In an instant, he memorized her face, her lips, soft and moist—her long lashes fanned beneath delicately arched brows, the same color as her dark hair.

Lashes lifted from her cheeks, and her eyes searched his. Her russet-brown irises sprinkled with flecks of gold, caught the winter sun and reflected its light. She returned his stare, her pupils large and inviting. Her lashes lowered. With small deliberate movements, she dropped her hand from his neck and clasped them together in her lap. “I thought…that was—” Her face infused with color, and she turned her head away.

“A kiss. Heartfelt and sincere. The first of many I hope we share, only with you.” He positioned the package on his lap to shield the embarrassment of his ardor.

We shall require more privacy
.

She looked at him from the corner of her eye. “The first of many?” A gentle smile spread across her face. She lifted her chin and gazed across the parkway. “I’d like that. Perhaps more than I should.” She remained silent for several moments, staring at the place she used to sell flowers in the morning, then she brushed her hands down her thighs. “But for now, I must return to Papa.” She stood and held out a hand to John. “Ready to walk me home?”

“Of course.” John adjusted his overcoat as he stood to conceal the evidence of his desire. He tucked her package under his arm and took her hand.

He declined Aubrielle’s invitation to stay for dinner, as well as Mae’s offer to send food home with him for Billy and Henri.

I’ll speak to the butcher tomorrow and have meat delivered to Mae
.

The generous woman continued to offer help to everyone during difficult times. The least he could do was help her feed those she loved. Besides, he intended to share many dinners with Mae’s adopted family.

John paused to check on Éclair before he crossed the alley to his building. Watching Karl write down names, and remembering the horrors that had been foretold, firmed his resolve to discover the truth about the scarred valet. John opened the door to his apartment and cast a quick look around. “Where’s Henri?” He walked to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water.

Billy lay on the couch cleaning his nails with his pocket knife. “He went to
La Fleur Chantante
again.
”
He looked up at John. “Did you bring dinner?”

John shook his head as he tipped the glass back and swallowed the last bit of water. “No. We’ve enough left over for a meal, plus Mae’s bread and meat from the butcher.” He rinsed the cup and set it on the drainboard. “If you’re hungry, find something to eat then get cleaned up. We’re going to find Henri.”

Billy swung his bare feet to the floor. “You have news of François?” A pained expression flashed across his face, and he pressed his hand against his side.

“No news, just an ugly feeling. I’m going to play a hunch.” John rested the heels of his palms on the counter and stretched his back.

“Must be some hunch, mate.” Billy stood with deliberate effort and crossed to the lavatory. “I’ll be put to rights in a jiff.”

“We have a stop to make along the way.”

John drove the truck to Asher’s. There were few cars on the road after sunset. “I watched Bonet’s valet stop and speak with the market’s customers today. He wrote down their names and addresses.” John parked across from the store.

“Why would he do that?”

“I didn’t have the opportunity to speak with him. He told Aubrielle he worked for Asher’s.” John opened the door. “I intend to go to the market and ask.”

“Not you.” Billy pulled the lever to his door and eased from the truck with a groan. “The valet saw you the night you went to the club. Lord knows, you’re hard to forget. I’ll talk with the owner just in case this Karl is still in there.” He shut the door and hurried across the street.

John strummed his fingers on the cold steering wheel. Across the diagonal, the
Café Jardin de Lune
had begun to empty its dinner crowd. Couples stood along the walkway huddled in their coats.

After several long moments, Billy emerged from the shop. He paused to let a cab pass, then crossed the street and opened the door. “I spoke with the owner.” His lips drew back, and he hissed through his teeth as he climbed into the truck. “Gah.”

“What did he say?”

“The owner chased the man from the storefront after several customers complained.” Billy pulled the door closed. “Whatever he was doing here, he doesn’t work for Asher’s Market, and there is no prize to be given away.”

“Aubrielle gave him her name and address.” Urgency rose in John’s chest.

“Let’s find him and ask him what he was doing, mate.”

John put the vehicle into gear and pulled into traffic. They had to park two blocks from
La Fleur Chantante.
“Busy night.” John handed Billy the keys and slid his revolver beneath the driver’s seat.

The doorman stood outside tonight. He nodded a greeting to John as they approached.
“
Votre arme?
”

“
Je n’en ai pas.
” John opened his coat to display his empty holster.

“
Merci.
” The guard opened the door.
“
Bonne soirée
.”

Inside, the crowd made the small venue feel tight and alive with motion. Servers moved between the tables, delivering food and drink orders while couples danced near the band. A dark-skinned woman with a sultry voice sang on stage.

John checked his hat and coat and turned to survey the crowd while Billy flirted with the coat girl. Bonet wasn’t on the upper level where he had been nearly a week ago.

“John.” Henri stood and waved from a table across the long room.

“This way,” John said to Billy then wove through the crowd to Henri’s table.

“You’re a surprise.” Henri resumed his seat and gestured to the empty chairs. “I haven’t seen Bonet yet, although I doubt there is anything new. He would have sent someone out to find me.”

John sat and signaled to a waitress. “Have you seen Karl?”

Henri shook his head. “No, but they’re usually together.” He pointed to an empty booth in the elevated section behind them. “The reserved table is for Bonet and his men.”

“
Bonjour
.” The waitress said to John and Billy. She picked up Henri’s empty glass and placed it on her tray. “
Un autre?
”

“
Oui,
” Henri replied. “
Merci.
”

“Et pour vous
?
”
She looked at Billy and John.

“What he’s having.” John gave a nod toward Henri.

“
Ah, un Américain
.
”
The server smiled. “We see not many.” She smiled at Billy.
“Et vous?”

“Same.” Billy grinned at the woman.

The waitress noted their order and turned away without looking up from her pad.

“I tell you, Bill—if you’re not in uniform, the women want nothing to do with you,” Henri laughed. “Our server, Lisette, has a
petit ami
in the army.”

“You know her name?” Billy’s brows rose in apparent disbelief.

“I’ve been here every night for a week.” Henri shrugged and cocked back his head. “I know everyone’s name.”

Lisette wove through the crowd. Her tray held high above her head. She set the platter on the table and served the men their drinks.

John dropped several coins on her tray. “
Merci.
”