Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
MADELINE
Dubois's office is at the end of a quiet corridor that smells faintly of lavender.
Etienne touches my arm before we enter. "One more thing."
He slides a piece of paper toward me. "Sophie wrote this yesterday. After she found out you'd left."
I pick it up. The handwriting is careful, precise. Sophie's elegant cursive that she practices obsessively because she thinks it reflects well on her personal brand.
To Whom It May Concern,
My name is Sophie Laurent. I am nine years old and I attend école Sainte-Marguerite. I am writing to tell you about Madeline Blake, who has been taking care of me and my friends Emma and Luc for six months.
Before Madeline came, my father and Emma's father and Luc's father did not talk to each other very much. They would pick us up from school and not look at each other. It was uncomfortable and I did not like it.
Madeline made them talk. She made them sit in the same room and figure things out. She organized our schedules so we could spend time together, which is important because Emma and Luc are my best friends and I don't have very many of those.
Some people think it is strange that we share an au pair.
I think those people do not understand what it is like when your mother leaves and your father works all the time and you feel like you are managing everything yourself.
Madeline understood. She never made me feel like I was too much.
She never made me feel like I had to be easier to deal with.
If you make her leave, I will be very disappointed in this school. And I will remember.
Sincerely, Sophie Laurent
Future Fashion Designer
My vision blurs.
"She wrote it herself," Etienne says quietly. "I didn't ask her to. I found it on my desk this morning with a note that said 'for the meeting.'"
"She signed it 'future fashion designer.'"
"That's Sophie."
I set the letter down. Press my fingers against my eyes.
"Hey." Raphael's hand covers mine. "We're going to get through this."
"You don't know that."
"No. But whatever happens, we're not doing it alone." He squeezes. "None of us are."
We enter together.
Not dramatically. Just four adults walking through a door. But I feel the shift in the room. Eyes moving from face to face, trying to read the dynamic.
Trying to find the cracks.
The parents who filed complaints are already seated.
Madame Descourtes, who heard things through the walls at the retreat. Monsieur and Madame Lefevre, whose son Sophie once described as "aggressively mediocre." A severe woman in pearls. A man who keeps checking his phone.
"Thank you all for coming," Dubois begins. "I know this is a difficult situation."
"We're here to discuss the formal complaints filed against Mademoiselle Blake," the school board representative says.
She has the kind of voice that makes everything sound like a court proceeding.
"And to determine whether any action is warranted regarding the enrollment status of the children in question. "
"The enrollment status?" Raphael's voice is calm, but I hear the edge. "Our children have done nothing wrong."
"Of course not." Descourtes smiles thinly. "The children are lovely. It's the environment we're concerned about."
"Perhaps you could be specific," Etienne says. "What exactly are you alleging?"
"We're expressing concern." The woman in pearls speaks. "Several parents observed inappropriate dynamics during the retreat. Physical proximity. Intimate gestures."
"I sat with my employers, where there was an empty chair," I say.
"And the sounds that Madame Descourtes heard from your room?"
Heat crawls up my neck.
"I know what I heard." Descourtes's voice is prim. "Multiple voices. After midnight. The walls in that chateau are not thick."
"If I may." My voice comes out steady. The voice Prestwick trained into me for rooms exactly like this one.
Descourtes turns, surprised that the au pair is still speaking.
"You've filed complaints based on sounds you heard through a wall.
Not evidence of harm. Not evidence of neglect.
Not a single conversation with the children you claim to be concerned about.
" I look at the school board representative.
"Have any of you spoken to Sophie, Emma, or Luc?
Asked them how they feel? Or did you decide you already knew? "
Silence.
The school board representative shifts in her seat.
"No," I answer for them. "You didn't."
The room recalibrates. Descourtes's mouth opens, closes.
"Our children are thriving." Raphael stands. "Emma's grades have improved fifteen percent since Madeline arrived. She's more confident, more social. Her teacher commented on it last conference."
"Luc hasn't had a withdrawal episode in four months," Bastien says. "He's started drawing people again."
"And Sophie." Etienne's voice softens. "My daughter has spent seven years testing everyone who tries to get close. Madeline is the first person who didn't give up."
"That's very touching," Descourtes says. "But it doesn't address the moral concerns—"
"—What moral concerns?" Raphael is still standing. "You're talking about optics. About what things look like. But you haven't pointed to a single instance of harm."
"The situation is inherently—"
"My wife died three years ago. Bastien's wife left him.
Etienne's ex-wife abandoned their daughter when she was a toddler.
" His voice is steady. "We were three men trying to raise children alone, and we weren't doing a very good job of it.
The arrangement with Madeline wasn't conventional.
But it worked. Our children are happy. They're healthy. They're loved."
"By multiple people," Pearls says. "In an arrangement that—"
"That involves adults cooperating for the benefit of children?" Bastien's laugh has no humor in it. "God forbid."
"There's no need for hostility—"
"—There's no need for this meeting." Etienne cuts through.
"You've made allegations with no evidence.
You've questioned Madeline's character based on gossip and thin walls.
And you've implied that our children's enrollment is contingent on us conforming to your idea of what a family should look like. "
He pauses. Lets the silence stretch.
"That's not going to happen."
"Monsieur Laurent—"
"We are not separate households anymore." He continues as if Dubois hasn't spoken. "We are one family. Whatever that looks like to you, however unconventional it appears, that is what we have chosen. And Madeline is part of it."
"You can't simply—"
"We are prepared to withdraw our children from this school if necessary.
To involve legal counsel if you take action based on speculation.
And to make very public what kind of institution Sainte-Marguerite has become.
One that polices the private lives of its families rather than educating their children. "
The school board representative has stopped writing.
I reach into my bag and slide Sophie's letter across the desk.
Dubois reads it. Her expression falters. The professional composure thins, and underneath it I see a woman who went into education for reasons that have nothing to do with managing scandals.
"She's nine," I say quietly. "She wrote that because she thought someone might take me away from her. A nine-year-old shouldn't have to defend the people who love her."
The room is very still.
"Based on what I've heard," the school board representative says finally, "I don't believe there are grounds for formal measures. The complaints appear to be based on supposition rather than evidence."
Descourtes makes a sound of protest.
"However, I would suggest the arrangement be reviewed periodically. To ensure the children's wellbeing remains the priority."
"We welcome any review," Raphael says. "We have nothing to hide."
"Then I believe we're finished." Dubois stands. "Thank you all for your time."
The parents file out. Descourtes shoots me a look of pure venom. Pearls doesn't look at anyone. The man with the phone is already back to scrolling.
When the door closes and we're alone with Dubois, she sits back down.
"I've been doing this for twenty years," she says. "I don't think I've ever seen three parents present such a unified defense."
"We had motivation," Bastien says.
She looks at me. "Mademoiselle Blake. When I suggested your departure would be the simplest solution, I was thinking about the school's reputation. Not about what was actually best for the children." She folds her hands. "I should have asked them first. You were right about that."
"The review," Raphael says. "How often?"
"Quarterly. Informal. A check-in." She almost smiles. "After today, I doubt anyone will raise concerns for a long time."
The corridor is empty. Morning light shines through the tall windows.
I stop walking.
They stop too.
"That actually worked," I say.
"You sound surprised." Bastien's mouth quirks.
"I expected more resistance. For Descourtes to produce a recording."
"All she has is gossip." Raphael's hand finds the small of my back. "Gossip doesn't hold up against three fathers who refuse to be ashamed."
"You were incredible." I look at Etienne. "The legal threats. The unified family speech."
"Terrifying," he admits. "I don't enjoy confrontation."
"Could have fooled me."
"Boardrooms. Hostile acquisitions. Practice." He pauses. "This was harder."
"Why?"
"Because it mattered."
We start walking. Slower now. The adrenaline fading.
At the school's front entrance, Raphael turns to me.
"Ready?" he asks.
This is the first public moment. The first time we step into the world as whatever we're becoming.
Some people will stare. Some will whisper. I find I don't care as much as I thought I would.
"Ready," I say.
We walk out together.