“Victoria. Victoria Delègue.” Jeremy thought for a moment before adding, “Or Victoria Kazan.”
The woman cocked her head, surprised.
“I mean, I don’t know if she used her married name or her maiden name,” Jeremy explained.
“Okay, it’s ringing.” The woman cleared her throat. “Hello, it’s Ms. Delègue-Kazan,” she said with an impressive amount of confidence. “I called a few hours ago for a delivery to Bistro Vert at twelve Armand-Carret Street in the tenth arrondissement. Yes, they got it. Everything’s fine. But I have another package for the same place. Could you send another cab? Great. Oh, wait! Earlier, when the driver picked up the package, he stopped a few doors down from my place. I had to go get him. Could you verify the address you have for me? I’m sorry, did you say twenty-six Ménilmontant Street in the twentieth arrondissement? Yes, that’s the right one. The driver must’ve made a mistake.”
The woman gave Jeremy a wink as she repeated the address slowly.
“Okay, great,” she continued. “When can you pick it up? Half an hour? No, that’s too late. Oh well. I’ll call you sometime tomorrow for another order. Thank you. Good-bye.”
“Thank you,” Jeremy exclaimed. “Thank you so much. You were great.”
“I always knew how to hustle for little things like that,” she said with a nod.
“How can I ever thank you?”
“A glass of champagne. That was the deal.”
Jeremy got up and took her by the hand. “You’re like one of those fairy godmothers who appears at the moment all hope is lost.”
The woman laughed. “Do I look like a fairy godmother to you?”
It was a small, normal-looking house in a residential neighborhood where only the passage of a few cars disturbed the peace. On a mailbox, Jeremy read “P. and M. Kazan.” Victoria had taken refuge with her parents.
Jeremy walked up to the door, his heart pounding. He only wanted to confirm the address, not to show himself. He had decided to respect Victoria’s wishes. He was tempted to ring the bell, but he held himself back. He noticed that from the garden in front of the house he could see in through a large bay of windows. He found a bush that made an ideal hiding place. All he wanted was to see his wife and sons. To his great relief, the garden was deserted.
The windows on the second floor were open, but Jeremy was too low to see inside them. The first-floor windows were closed, and the few shadows he saw were unidentifiable.
After waiting twenty minutes, he was starting to feel hopeless. He was losing time. He had to move forward in his investigation, to get as far as possible in his search before disappearing again into the night. But every movement behind the windows made him want to stay a little longer.
After an hour of fruitless observation, he decided to leave. He was about to step away from the bush, his throat tight, when he heard the gate grind. He lifted his head and saw a little boy holding a balloon that he swung back and forth. It was Simon. Jeremy had just enough time to take cover in his hiding place when Thomas and Victoria appeared behind the boy. Jeremy’s heart leapt. He almost gave in to his panic, but he gained control of himself. What would Victoria say if she found him hiding in this bush like a common criminal? She wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between the good Jeremy and the bad, even if she did still believe there was a difference.
Jeremy crouched down and watched Victoria coming closer. He was deeply astonished to see how much she’d changed. Her body looked extremely fragile and floated awkwardly in her jeans and sweatshirt. Her arms were crossed, and she stood hunched, like she was protecting herself from an icy wind. Her c
heeks were hollow and her features worn. She was pale—too pale. Her sunken eyes expressed only sadness. Her lips, once so lovely, were puckered in a nervous smile. Her hair was pulled back and held in place by a rubber band. She looked like one of those deeply depressed women who give up on their beauty, abstaining from the pleasures of life and retreating into the duties of motherhood—their last connection to life.
My God. This is the result of my malice. I’m the one who made her sad. Even her beauty has withered. How could I make her so unhappy?
Victoria followed Simon, who ran after his balloon. He had grown, but his face hadn’t changed. Less infantile, maybe, hinting at the features of the young boy he would become. Thomas, for his part, walked closer to his mother. He had the serious look of a child who was growing up too fast. His hair had grown longer, and blond curls framed a face that was harder, more willful than the one Jeremy remembered. By now they were quite close to him. He took in every detail of the scene while holding his breath and trying to suppress the tremors in his body.
When they had gotten about as far as Jeremy’s hiding place, Thomas took his mother by the arm. “Come on, Mom, let’s sit there.”
With the reflexes of a frightened child, Jeremy closed his eyes, hoping to dissolve in the darkness. He heard their footsteps approaching, the rustle of their clothes, and their breath. When he finally opened his eyes, they were sitting on the bench in front of the bush with their backs to him, so close he could reach out and touch them. Victoria looked drained, her arms still crossed.
“Don’t go too far,” Thomas called to Simon.
“Why don’t you go play with him?” Victoria said. “I’m fine, I promise.”
“I’m going…later,” Thomas replied. “Why were you crying earlier? Was it him?”
“Yes. He sent word.”
“I don’t want him to come back.”
“Don’t worry. He’s not coming back.”
“You said that before. And you always end up believing him.”