Chapter 32
“Oh shit, I’m out of Cadmium Red.” I search my paint box for the color, only finding the note I left for myself to remember to rebuy the color. Great job, Rory. I guess I forgot to ask Luc. I do a quick check of all my other colors and note down the names of those I might need soon. I’d rather just make one trip to the store instead of several—especially because I need to ask Luc to take me.
“Hey, Luc, can I borrow—” My sentence is cut off when I walk into the g?te and see our little table set up with two long candles in the center. Luc pulls a tray out of the oven, placing whatever he’s made onto the two plates.
“Can you borrow what?” he asks.
My body remains completely frozen. While Luc and I never had a conversation about exclusivity, taking in the way he’s made our g?te look like an intimate restaurant for two has me regretting that decision. My dumb heart stops beating in my chest, and my lungs become concrete. That stupid vein in my temple aches. I automatically go to my dad’s tattoo.
“Can you borrow what?” he asks again, oblivious to the internal war I’m waging.
“I didn’t realize you were having someone over.” I can’t stop the hurt cutting my voice to shreds.
“No worries, she just walked right in.” He sets the two plates down on the table and places his arms on his hips, his signature panty-melting smile on his lips. My heart tearing in two. Here I was starting to fall for this guy, and he’s now seeing other people. I look over my shoulder to the woman in question, already formulating the best way I can third wheel my way through this date and maybe drive her away. But no one is standing behind me.
I turn my head to find Luc now standing in front of me. His arms are on either side of the doorjamb, caging me in. “Did you really think I was referring to someone else?” His signature cocky grin laces his lips.
I lift my chin and swallow the tackiness in my throat. “I don’t know. I mean, you did pretend to be a completely different person when I met you.” Well, not really. It was more a foresight on my part.
He places a finger under my chin. “Ask me again. Can I borrow what?”
He moves his lips inches from mine. “Your car keys,” I breathe.
“No,” he replies, closing his lips on mine.
I release his mouth. “But I need paint.” My whine is nowhere near as effective when I’m trying to catch my breath. I can’t think straight when he is crowding me like this.
“I’ll take you. After our date.”
Wait, did I hear him correctly? We’re having a date? Suddenly feeling self-conscious, my eyes flick down to my current state of dress. “I need to change my clothes.” There is no way I want to go on my first date with Luc with paint splatters on my clothes.
“No, don’t. You are perfect the way you are.” Luc doesn’t let me go. Does he always know the absolute perfect thing to say?
“But my clothes are covered in paint.”
“You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t covered in paint,” he replies, and my insides turn into a puddle of goo.
“Hate to break it to you, big guy, but after our date I’m pretty sure you’ll be getting laid, and the store will be closed.” I shake my head.
“Then I’ll just have to take you tomorrow.” He takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine and leading me to the table.
“Is there a reason you’re asking me out on a date?” I stare at my plate of food as Luc tucks the back of my chair in and drapes a cloth napkin on my lap.
“Because I want to.” He takes the seat opposite me and pours me a glass of wine.
“And why in the g?te?”
“Because this is our little bubble for just you and me.”
As I stare into Luc’s eye, the soft glow from the candles making them look like warm mead, I’m struck by how perfect this is. My life has never been perfect. But this moment truly is.
Content. Blissfully content. That’s the only way I can describe how it feels to be wrapped in the arms of a man who I am falling for and yet can take away everything I’ve grown to want fiercely.
“What are you thinking about?” he cuts through my dark thoughts.
“Nothing. Everything.” My breath wheezes through my teeth. “Timothé came by—he wants to know where the jewels are. He told me they’re his.”
Luc shifts from under me, rolling me on top of his chest. “I can assure you of one thing. Louis never would’ve left those to anyone but a descendant.” His thumb runs along the crease of my thigh.
“At any rate, Timothé’s shit out of luck, because I don’t even know where they are.” I draw random lines on his chest. A small part of me wants to find them, but I’m also unsure what that would mean, and why Timothé is so hell-bent on having them.
“Did you ever read that letter?” he asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Nope.” I’d actually forgotten about it, with all the chateau renovations happening. It’s not like the letter was going to bring Louis back.
“Maybe he wrote it there?” The hope in his voice is almost blinding. It never really crossed my mind he would’ve written it there. And if he did, wouldn’t Timothé have found it already? I mean, he did hand me the letter, so it’s safe to say he probably skimmed it at the very least.
I bite the corner of my lip. “Will you sit with me while I read it?” My body knots like a ball of yarn at the thought of being alone to do this.
Luc leans up and places a soft kiss on the corner of my lips. “Of course.”
I reach into the bedside drawer and pull it out. I’d stashed it here for safekeeping. My eyes flick to Luc as I toy with the bottom of the envelope.
“Are you sure?” I ask. Both him and me.
“I’m sure that whatever is in that letter, the sun will still rise tomorrow. The birds will still chirp. André and Henry will continue to help us fix the chateau. I’m going to kiss the air from your lungs. And I’m also going to plan an epic payback for your little stunt.”
Staring into Luc’s eyes, I see it too. Content. I tear the envelope open and pull out the yellowed paper twice folded. It wasn’t thick, only two sheets of paper. A good thing or a bad thing—that remains to be seen. With a delicate grip on the paper, I straighten the folds between my fingers. Luc’s warm hand around my shoulders gives me the extra comfort I need. As I slowly read each line, my heart thumps in my chest, like it has been removed, slashed a few times, and replaced. The back of my throat is burning, but I’m unable to swallow—my mouth is too dry. My heart aches for a whole new reason. As strange as it may sound, I almost miss my mother. We haven’t spoken since that phone call. Since she found out I’ve moved to France—and put the physical distance between our emotional one—she’s taken to ignoring me. Week after week I call her, but she chooses not to answer. My emails receive the same fate. Louis’s letter, the words of encouragement and love from a man I never knew, I’m glad I decided to wait to read it. It could be being with Luc, it could also be the letter I’d just read, but my shoulders shake as more tears fall in uncontrollable waves and puddle under my chin. I want nothing more than to do exactly what he wanted and make this place shine again.
I hope that one day, you will be able to see how grand this house once was.
“Hey, it’s all right.” He abandons the letter and pulls me tight against his chest, soothing me. “He’s happy you’re here, baby.”
I pull away from his chest. “My dad would be too.” I absently run over his tattoo. Luc traces the same spot.
“I don’t have to have met him to know that he loved you a lot.”
“This was his favorite saying. He would kiss me on the forehead and whisper in my ear, ‘Dream big, Starlight.’ After he died. It was hard to never hear anyone say it. So I got it tattooed on me as a permanent reminder of him.”
Luc tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “He wasn’t wrong. You are the brightest star in my sky, Aurora. I’m glad you have that to remind yourself every day.”
The corner of my lip kicks up, and I tilt my head as I stare at him. “What does impératrice mean?”
Luc releases a steady breath. “It means empress.”
“You’ve been calling me that since you met me?”
“Yes, Aurora. I had a feeling I knew who you were the moment I met you.” I rest my head against his chest.
“But you didn’t say anything?”
“No, I wanted to get to know who you were before the chateau came between us.” He wraps his arms tighter around me, and I nuzzle closer into his chest. The slow, steady beat of his heart calms me as the words in the letter play on repeat in my head.
“I think Louis told us where the Monet jewels are.” I wipe the tears still streaming down my face.
No matter how hard I try, I keep getting distracted. Even though I promised Luc I wouldn’t look for the jewels just yet, I needed to know if they were in the spot I thought. Louis’s letter was vague, to say the least. But my gut was telling me they were there. After splashing my face with some cold water, I locate my phone and send a message off to Madeline.
Rory
Are you in the office?
Madeline
Yeah, why?
Rory
Is anyone else with you?
Madeline
No, why? Is everything all right?
Rory
Yep. I’ll explain it later. Keep everyone out of the council office. I’m coming.
Madeline
See you soon.
I make sure the letter is secured in my pocket and grab the scarf hanging on the hook by the door. My bike is resting against the wall, because that’s all I’m allowed to drive unsupervised. Madeline is already waiting outside the council office when I arrive.
“Aurora, what on earth is going on?” Madeline stares at me, a crease forming between her brows, and she is wringing her hands in front of her. She helps me rest my bike against the wall.
“We don’t have time.” I shake my head, my chest rising and falling speedily as my heart pumps blood at a thrashing speed.
“Is this to do with Luc’s retaliation?” Madeline asks, her voice rising to a frantic octave as I grab her by the elbow and lead her straight through the Bureau du Conseil doors. Behind us, the town is abuzz with preparations for the live auction for the first day of the town fair tomorrow. Some of the roads were already being closed off in the center of town, limiting the amount of traffic. Shops were preparing with their outdoor settings, wooden smokers were being lit, and game stalls were being created. It really did put a spark of magic in the air. Safely behind closed doors, Madeline turns to me. “Aurora, spill.”
I pant. “I need to get into the archives.” My heart furiously pumps adrenaline through my veins as I rest my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.
“You are not supposed to know they exist, and I can’t just close the office down so you can go exploring,” she hisses in my ear.
I turn my head so that my nose is only a few inches away from hers. “The missing jewels are in there.”
Madeline’s eyes widen in question, and I nod. “Not here,” Madeline whispers back and grabs my arm, pulling me the rest of the way. She inserts her key and the automatic doors open. We quickly walk inside before locking the door behind us, making sure that we won’t be disturbed.
“Okay, explain,” Madeline says once her breathing returns to normal.
“I finally opened the letter Louis left me.” I struggle with my jacket to pull the folded letter out. Madeline takes the letter from my weak grasp, her eyes vigorously scanning over the words.
“Oh, mon Dieu,” Madeline gasps, skimming over the letter a second time.
“My sentiments exactly,” I reply, standing, then immediately bending over slightly from the cramp in my side, my jelly legs protesting at the effort they just pulled. Madeline hands the letter back to me, turning on her heel and taking purposeful strides to the door that hides the archives. My numb fingers fumble putting the letter back in my pocket as my feet stumble trying to catch up to Madeline, who already had the vaulted door open and was halfway down the stairs. “See, why I think they’re down here?” I rest my hand on the wall as I descend the stairs two at a time, excitement pumping through my veins. I’m like a three-year-old on a sugar high. Wild with energy.
“Did you find any vaults in the chateau?” Madeline doesn’t turn around. Instead, she keeps walking right to the area the Monets’ chest is buried.
“No?” It was more of a question than an answer. Luc and I hadn’t really looked. A knot forms in my throat. At least I hope not, or else all this would have been for nothing.
Madeline stalks farther and farther down the archives and stops in front of the Monet family archives.
“Which box did he say again?” she asks.
“The third one down.” I don’t need to look at the letter; every single word is burned into my brain.
Madeline counted the boxes. “It should be in this one.” She points to the third box down. Together we grab a side, lift the first box off, and put it down on the floor next to our feet. Box after box we repeat the same process until we finally reach the box in question. My heart thumps at the base of my throat, I can barely contain my excitement. My gaze catches on Madeline’s, whose excitement matches my own. I grab a hold of the lid and push it off the box.
“Aurora, open your eyes,” Madeline whispers. I didn’t even realize I’d closed them.
“I’m scared,” I whisper, swallowing the golf ball–sized lump in my throat.
“Don’t be, you’ve got me.” The warmth of her hand circles mine. That small gesture made me stronger than I could’ve thought possible. I do have her, André, Henry, and, in a way, Luc too. With the additional courage, I peek from under my lashes and see ledgers, papers, and a strewn mess of different things.
“I don’t see it.” I scan the contents of the box, hoping the jewels were there, just waiting to be found. Only they weren’t.
“Maybe there’s another clue in one of these ledgers, or on a piece of paper?” Madeline suggests. She’s trying to inflate my clearly deflating mood. Spoiler, it’s not working.
“Maybe,” I reply. Carefully, we start grabbing documents, reading through each piece in case there was another direction scribbled down somewhere. Nothing. Time stops as we continue to pour over everything in the third box. Nada. Zip. Donuts. No jewels, no box, no secret compartment. I blink away the sheen of tears in my eyes. I don’t even know why I’m so disappointed, but not finding the jewels sitting there has really bummed me out. As much as I don’t want to admit it, I kind of do want to find them.
“It’s not here,” I whisper, the back of my throat scratching with each word.
“Damn.” A little harder than necessary, Madeline throws all the contents of the box back in and looks around, trying to come up with an explanation. She’s just as upset as I am.
My legs slide out from under me, unable to hold me up anymore as I sink to the floor, my body hollow and numb.
“Maybe we got the wrong box?” she suggests after a few minutes of deathly silence.
“The note clearly says the third box.” I wave the piece of paper in the air.
Madeline sits down heavily beside me, resting her head against the exposed brick wall.
“I don’t even know why I got my hopes up,” I mumble, shaking my head.
Madeline kicks her leg out, knocking one of the boxes over. “Hang on.” She pauses, her eyes staring at the Monet archives. “These boxes are too new.” She points to the third box, which had Monet family 1950–1980 written in black text on the front. “Look at the next one down.” She points to the fourth box. Monet family 1920–1940.
“Oh.” I gasp, sitting up, staring at the front of the box. Madeline and I stare at each other, we got the wrong third box down. Using the wall for support, I stand, this time counting two more boxes down. Holding my breath, I lift the lid. There in the center of the box is a maroon wooden box with a black steel lion head stuck on the top. Just as Louis had written. Madeline inhales sharply behind me.
“Oh my,” she whispers. My mouth falls open. Oh my, indeed. The lid lands softly on the floor as my fingers reach down to run along the edge of the box, securing it in my hands. My heart beats in my ears in a harsh staccato. It was heavier than I thought. Sitting down on the floor, I hold the box in front of me, afraid to blink or take my eyes off it, almost as if it will disappear if I do. Madeline takes the seat opposite me, crossing her legs so our knees are almost touching.
“What do I do?” I whisper, still staring at the box.
“Open it,” Madeline replies, her voice equally as low and soft.
“What if it’s not in here?” My voice breaks.
“You won’t know until you find out.”
At Madeline’s words of encouragement, the breath I’d been holding whooshes out of my lungs. I flip the handle, securing the latch, and lift the small metal clasp to open the box. Somehow, it’s almost like I’m carrying the weight of the world in this wooden box resting in my hands. The lid creaks from years of disuse.
“And?” Madeline asks, breaking through the silence. I turn the box around, showing her exactly what’s inside—not really able to believe what I am seeing. A deep sapphire blue felt lining, the Monet family colors, created the perfect bed for the most exquisite pieces of jewelry to rest on. A diamond necklace with stones the size of peas lined the edge of the box. Pearl teardrop earrings glimmered. Bracelets bejeweled with amethysts, rubies, and sapphires surrounded the most important piece. In the middle of all the jewels was the exact necklace Luc had shown me a photo of. The heart of Carcen is even more beautiful in person.
“HO-LY,” Madeline puffs.
“Wow,” is all I can say, my tongue becomes two sizes too big for my mouth, my brain still trying to process what is in front of me. No wonder Timothé was so desperate for these jewels. These are the type of things people see in museums, they aren’t things that you put on to go out to dinner.
“You found them. You did it, Aurora. You freaking DID IT,” Madeline says after a few more seconds of silence.
“We found them,” I correct her and close the lid with a snap, securing the thin lock in place. I need to show these to Luc. He would know the safest place to store priceless, three-hundred-year-old family heirlooms. I hope.