“At a time like this, absolutely,” said Grandmère. “Did your German friend explain the situation?”
“He’s not my friend,” said Daisy. “But yes, he did tell me something interesting. Pierre’s to be arrested, no?”
“Within the day, according to Von Sternburg.”
“And you believe him?”
“About this?” Grandmère set down the glass on the sofa table. “I do.”
“I don’t understand why you trust him. Mon Dieu, he’s a German officer! It might be a trap. Probably it is a trap. And now he knows about the bookshop, about Kit, about the hidden room—”
“My dear, don’t you realize? He’s always known. All this time, all these months, Lieutenant Colonel von Sternburg has been your truest friend. Why do you think you haven’t been discovered? Arrested, like all the others? Do you think it’s because you’re such a very clever spy?”
Daisy stared at her grandmother across the yards of soft, pastel carpet, the fragrant Ritz air. As always, Grandmère sparkled with jewels, on her earlobes and neck and tiny, pale fingers. She was like one of those delicate figures inside a music box, so crusted over by paste you almost couldn’t see where the fakery ended and the reality began. But her face. Oh, that was genuine, all right. Her eyes glared at Daisy, fringed by overlong, overthick, bristle-black eyelashes.
“That’s ridiculous,” said Daisy. “Why would such a man protect me? I don’t even know him.”
Grandmère gave her a worldly look and turned away to stride across the room, toward the curio case. “Regardless. The game’s up. They’ve intercepted some intelligence that could only have originated with Pierre—some report of yours—and now they’re just waiting for the proper warrant to come through. Even the Gestapo, it seems, must follow certain protocols where French officials are concerned. So it gives us a little time.”
“Time for what? There’s nothing we can do. If we try to save Pierre, they’ll only discover what’s really going on.”
Grandmère bent over the case and reached underneath for the latch. “It’s already too late. They’ll be searching your apartment—”
“The apartment’s clean. They won’t find anything.” Daisy said it desperately, trying to hold on to some hope, some possibility of reprieve. “I know what to say. They think I’m just some empty-headed housewife—”
“Daisy.” Grandmère turned to face her. “It’s time to go. You and the children, you’ve got to flee.”
“I—I can’t. We can’t. There’s still so much work to do, and the network needs agents and money. I can’t abandon them now. And Kit . . . and the children . . .”
“Daisy, the game’s up. You’re finished, at least for now. Legrand will be reassigned elsewhere, and you and I—”
“No!”
“—you and I will find some place to regroup, to see the children safe.” Her voice turned soft. “Oh, Daisy, my darling, I understand. I can see you’re in love. But it’s war, and such things cannot be allowed to compromise the safety of others. Do you want Legrand to be captured?”
“Of course not!”
“And your children? To lose a child, believe me, it’s worse than death.”
“No!”
“Then you must say goodbye to your lover. It won’t be forever. I’m sure you will find some way to—”
“I’m going to have his child.”
Grandmère, who had started toward her, stopped short in the middle of the rug. “I see.”
“So you see, he can’t be reassigned. He must come with us. We must stay together, at all costs.”
Grandmère’s gaze dropped briefly to Daisy’s stomach, then she continued across the room until she stood before her granddaughter. “We will see what’s to be done. For now, you must listen. I’ve sent a message down the escape line. In a day or two, we will have arranged a safe house outside of Paris, where we can await the next move. Legrand has already made a set of papers. You and the children—”
“The children! My God, I’ve got to—”
“Hush. You’ll stay in the bookshop until I give the signal.” Grandmère held out her hand. “And you must take this with you.”
“The talisman? But I can’t keep that with me. If I’m searched—”
“Not to keep. I’ve made arrangements with an American contact of mine, in the intelligence service. Before you leave Paris, you’ll take this to him.”
“And what’s he going to do with it?”
“He’ll get us money for the jewels, which we badly need at the moment, as you know. The network’s about to be starved out of existence. And with the Germans taking over the free zone, it’s as impossible there as in Paris to sell the jewels. As for the talisman itself, it will be returned safely to the hands of the demoiselle.”
“Oh, the old superstition,” Daisy said. She took the bundle of silk cloth from her grandmother’s hand and stuffed it in her pocket. “Just let me know where and when to make the drop. In the meantime, I’ve got to fetch the children from school.”
“It’s already done, my dear. They’ll be waiting for you at the bookshop.”
“What? By whom? When?”
“Right now. Von Sternburg’s gone to get them.”
Daisy thought she might explode. She whirled and turned for the door.
“Daisy, wait! Stop!” Grandmère darted in front of her and stood before the door. “It’s all right. In the name of God, don’t go. He’ll get them out. The children know him, and Madame won’t question a German officer. It’s safer this way.”
“I don’t understand! Why do you trust him like this? With your own great-grandchildren?”
Grandmère opened her mouth and closed it. Her hand, which had found the door handle behind her, dropped away. “You’ll have to ask him that yourself,” she said softly. “In the meantime, keep that damned thing safe, do you understand me? Remember you’re the demoiselle.”
“I’m not the demoiselle. The line of the Courcelles has died out, don’t you remember? It’s just a fiction, Grandmère, a fairy story. There is no demoiselle.”
Grandmère only stared at her, neither fierce nor pitying, a dainty old woman on the verge of frailty. The kaftan stirred a little in the draft. She made a little sigh, just like a Frenchwoman.
“Very well. Go. But remember, Daisy. It’s the talisman who finds the demoiselle, not the other way around.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Daisy said. “And if that Von Sternburg does not deliver Madeleine and Olivier to me within the hour, I swear before God that I will tear the both of you limb from limb. Now excuse me.”
She stretched around her grandmother’s iron-straight body for the doorknob.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Babs
Paris, France
April 1964
I stretched languorously in the bed, evaluating my current state of affairs. Which, at that moment, consisted of a naked arm wrapped around my equally naked waist, pulling me close in a very intimate spooning position. I pressed back against the solid chest that was Drew, every inch of my skin sighing with happiness.