I'll See You in Paris (24 page)

“She thought you might be able to repair them,” she said.

The man, who was reed-legged but round across the middle, twisted his mouth in confusion. And who could blame him? They were in a clock shop and she was handing him a pile of broken tapes.

“Right,” Annie said and dragged them back toward her. “I can see where this would be a crazy place to come. I must've misunderstood. Well, have a splendid day. Cheers!”

“Stop.”

He grabbed her hand. His fingers felt cold and dry.

“I can help you,” he said.

“Really?”

She slipped out of his hold, then glanced at a cuckoo on the wall. The poor bird was getting himself stuck each time he tried to exit the doors.

“We're mostly watches in this shop,” the man said. “And clocks. But I do the odd job here and there.”

He pulled a magnifying glass from his shirt pocket and studied each tape.

“I think I can fix these,” he said.

“That's terrific news!”

Annie smacked her hands together, which sent the cuckoo once again spiraling out of its hole.

“I do appreciate it,” she told the man as he shook his head wearily. “You see, I'm a researcher and trying—”

“It'll take about a week.”

“A week? Mister … I'm sorry I didn't catch your name. Are you … might you be the eponymous Basil?”

“Sir. You can call me sir.”

“Mister, uh, sir. I'm grateful for your help but I don't have a week. You see, I'm from the States.”

“You don't say.”

“I have to go back. Soon. I'm not sure when, exactly, but most likely within the next few days.”

“And the town shall weep,” he said. “I'll try my best to fix them sooner. No promises, though. You're not the only thing I have going on.”

“Got it. Thank you for doing what you can. You can reach me at the Banbury Inn. The name's Annie Haley. Do you need to write it down?”

The man stared at her tiredly, one of his eyes wandering off in some other direction.

“I see,” she said. “Well, I'll check back in a few days. Thanks again!”

He was already gone, evaporated behind his mauve curtain.

“Not very jolly, are we?” Annie muttered.

She tucked her hair behind both ears and walked back out the door.

“Okay,” she said to herself, under her breath. “This is a start.”

Step one was getting the tapes repaired. Step two would be figuring how to pay for it. But she also had to find something to play them on, in the next few days, all without Laurel catching on. Annie frowned. Things were not looking too prospective. Already deflated, she began shuffling back toward the inn.

“Excuse me,” she said, jostling between a couple and then around a woman. “Pardon. Sorry.”

No. She would not cry. Not there. Not in a foreign country about a set of tapes.

“Sorry.” Her eyes ached. “Excuse me.”

“Annie?” said a voice.

She tried to shake away the cobwebs.

“Annie? Annabelle! What are you doing?”

Annie whipped around. The woman she'd not-so-politely skittered past was her mother and she looked rather pissed. Not the good kind of pissed, either, as in drunk like the Brits. No, Laurel Haley was full-blown American mad.

 

Forty-one

BANBURY, OXFORDSHIRE, ENGLAND

NOVEMBER 2001

“Oh,” Annie said, swallowing hard. “Hey, Mom.”

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing really. Strolling around town. A walk, you know.”

“A walk. Have you given up jogging already?”

“Ha! Good one!”

As her pulse quickened, Annie reminded herself that she hadn't done anything especially shady. She didn't even have the stolen tapes on her anymore. The person who should've been acting sheepish was Laurel.

“What is it
you're
doing?” Annie asked, trying to turn the tables though she mostly lacked the strength. “I thought you were in meetings all day.”

“Ah, yes, the meetings,” Laurel said with a wry smile. “The ones I walked out of.”

“You walked out?”

“Indeed I did. Dramatically and in a huff. Not my usual MO, but I was over it. Done. I'm so tired of haggling.”

“You? A lawyer? Tired of haggling?”

“I'm as baffled as anyone. But it was … I don't know…”

Laurel struggled to find the words, a first as far as Annie knew.

“It all suddenly seemed so pointless,” she said, puffing out her cheeks. “Every last bit of it. All the hassle, and to what end? The chance to grab a few more dollars? What a waste, especially when offset with lawyer's fees, lodging costs, and the anxiety medication I'm surely going to need.”

“Wow, Mom. I'm surprised. It's good, though. I guess. Why stress out over something that's basically a gift?”

“Yes.” Laurel exhaled. “Exactly.”

“So what now?”

“I think…” Laurel started. She looked up at the sky, at the clouds shifting overhead. “I think it means I'll take the lowball offer. What the hell. It's only money.”

“You have enough, don't you?” Annie asked. “For retirement? To last … until…”

“Oh, we'll be fine. I saved plenty while working at the firm and even the deal as it stands is a nice chunk of cash. Plus how much money does a person need? I should've just let my lawyer handle it and waited back in the States for a check.”

“Wow,” Annie said again, the thought jarring. “Just wow.”

What if her mom
had
done that?

What if they'd stayed in Virginia, Laurel continuing to ride her horses while she waited for a check? Annie could barely remember what she did all day before trailing after old codgers and getting herself mired in life at the Grange. If they'd never come to England nothing would've changed yet everything would've been somehow different.

“Why didn't you?” Annie asked. “Why didn't you just collect your money?”

“I ask myself that very question ten times a day. I guess I felt like I had to see it, pay the property its due respect. Not to mention I was more likely to get top dollar if I came in person, which seems preposterous now. I hope you're not disappointed.”

“About you not getting top dollar?” Annie crossed her arms, and then uncrossed them again. “No. I'm not disappointed about that.”

“I'm sorry, Annabelle. I'm sorry that I couldn't get a higher price for you.”

“For
me
? What does this have to do with me?”

“Well, eventually, this, what's here.” Laurel gestured with both hands. “What's at home. It all will go to you. Not soon, of course. That I know of. But one day.”

“God, Mom, don't think about it like that.”

As if Annie cared about her inheritance. As if she even assumed there would be one.

She wondered if her mom would've gone to the trouble if Annie had a job, or any financial promise whatsoever beyond marrying some dude with a steady paycheck. Military pay wasn't exactly known for its high tax bracket, and it couldn't keep the lights on at Blenheim, but Eric's pay was a veritable fortune compared to the zero dollars Annie made.

“Don't do it for me,” Annie added.

“Why not?” Laurel asked. “You're the reason I do anything, period. My sole motivation in life. It's been that way since the moment you were born. Before, even.”

“But, Mom, like you said, it's only money.”

“That's true, but I've always wanted to give you the most of everything, all the top dollars, literally and figuratively. This is too much, though. The land. The lawyers. The other sellers. Even this town is getting to me.”

“Yeah,” Annie said, glancing in the direction of the George & Dragon. “I know what you mean. Mom, it won't be like this forever. I know you worry, but I'll get a job. I'll make something of myself. I'm not as lost as I seem.”

“Annie,” Laurel said, and turned to face her. She grabbed her daughter by both shoulders. “You don't have to do it. You don't have to marry Eric to prove you're a grown-up.”

“Geez.” She jerked herself out of Laurel's reach. “Is that what you think of me?”

“I don't think that about you,” Laurel said and pressed her lips together. “I worry that you think that about yourself.”

“Mom…”

“A marriage is not adulthood,” Laurel said. “And it's not security. In fact, a crappy marriage is the most insecure place in the world.”

“I'm sorry that your marriage was bad,” Annie said. “I mean that because it would've been awesome to have a father in the picture.”

“I know.” Laurel's eyes began to water. “I wish I could've given you a good dad and the support that comes with it. He was simply not that kind of man.”

“Did you even give him a chance, though? A real chance?”

“Of course I did,” Laurel said with a nod. “I wanted nothing more than for us to be a family.”

“But you left him before I was born.”

“Yes, but we'd been together for many years before that. A family doesn't have to include kids. You rug rats are not the center of the universe,” she tried to joke.

“Not funny,” Annie said. “I'm trying to have a serious discussion with you.”

“Annabelle, simply put, things with your father were bad. Worse than bad. This wasn't about a few fights over bills or a slammed door or two. I had no choice. And I'd do it again, in a flash.”

“Maybe things were terrible for him, too.”

Annie thought of the transcripts, the story of the duchess and Gladys's own dad. The man was an assassin and she forgave him. The word “forgiveness” had, at its heart, so very much give.

“Absolutely,” Laurel said. “Things
were
awful for him but in a way that had nothing to do with us. I tried, Annie. God, I tried. But you can't fix someone else.”

“I get it,” Annie said with a defiant sniff. “You made the only choice you could. But just because it was bad for you doesn't mean that it will be for me.”

“I never said that it would.”

“I know what you're thinking,” Annie said.

“I'm not sure that you do.”

“I'm not marrying Eric because I have nothing else going on. I will have a job. A career. A life outside of him.”

“But behind it all you need a safety net. Let me be that person. Not Eric. Let it be me. Listen, Annie, I'm not going to forbid you from marrying him.”

“Good. Because you can't.”

“Just remember,” she said, “that whatever happens, however things pan out when he returns, you can back out. A job, no job. Money or not. Your path is not carved in stone and no agreement is permanent. Not an engagement. Not a land deal. Nothing. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Eric would never tell me that I was stuck. He says the opposite, that I don't have to keep my promise. I can back out of the engagement, no hard feelings. He claims I'm too good for him, which is patently untrue.”

“I'm glad he's not pressuring you,” Laurel said.

“He'd never pressure me!”

“But I wasn't referring to Eric. I was talking about you.”

Annie squinted in confusion. Her temples began to throb.

“Me?” she said. “Me?”

“Yes. If things are different when he gets back … if you change, or if he does, know that you don't have to say ‘I do' because you already promised ‘I will.'”

Annie continued to stand there, head pounding as Laurel's words played in her mind. Would Annie do it if she had to? If Eric turned out not to be the person she loved, would she say no? Annie believed that she would.

“I know I don't have to marry him,” she said at last. “And I won't, unless it's the right time with the right person, which I'm positive that Eric is. Either way, twenty-two or forty years old, one engagement or fifteen, I can wait.”

She also understood she didn't have to.

“Okay,” Laurel said, nodding. “Great. Though I'd prefer something less than fifteen engagements.”

“It was a joke,” Annie said. “Something I read in a book.”

Laurel smiled.

“A book,” she said. “Of course. Look, I'm sorry for bringing this up when maybe I didn't need to. It's funny … there's, I don't know, something different about you lately. On this trip you've suddenly seemed older, more grown-up. I suppose that's quite the sad commentary on how much I've been away.”

“Don't beat yourself up about it, Mom. I've kept busy and even had a little fun besides.”

“I hope so.” Laurel sighed. “I'd hate for you to have bad memories of this trip. Or, worse, no memories of it at all.”

“No danger of that.”

“Good.” Laurel sighed again. “So, should we blow this taco stand or what? Or do you want to keep regaling the fine citizens of Banbury with our deepest personal problems?”

“Let's go,” Annie said. “But first, I need a favor.”

“Anything.”

“Mom. ‘Blow this taco stand'? Please don't speak that way again. I think it's a form of child abuse.”

Laurel closed her eyes and laughed.

It was such a happy sound: light, high, and twinkly. Annie realized then how very long it'd been since she'd heard it. This town
was
getting to Laurel. It was getting to both of them.

“I have to ask,” Laurel said as they rounded the corner toward the inn. “Nicola says you've been running around meeting strange people, asking odd questions, borrowing bikes and flashlights. For what, exactly?”

“Um.” Annie paused and let her mother walk a few steps ahead. “I've been doing some, uh, research.”

“Research?” Laurel stopped, then turned back around.

“Yes. Research. On the town history.”