“No, no, no.”
Alaric looked down at the coffee spreading across his jacket.
Then at the woman crouching beside his shoes.
“Are you injured?”
“My ring.”
“I see.”
“It’s not mine.”
He glanced at the pavement.
“That does complicate matters.”
She looked up sharply.
“Are you always this helpful?”
“Usually more so when people don’t pour coffee on me.”
Célestine stared at him.
Then, despite everything, she laughed.
He had not expected that.
She rose, brushing dust from her dress.
“I’m sorry. Truly.”
Alaric reached into the space beneath a nearby bench and retrieved the ring.
He held it out.
Célestine’s face brightened.
“Oh, thank God.”
She took it carefully.
Alaric noticed her relief.
“Expensive?”
“Emotionally.”
“That sounds worse.”
“It belonged to my friend’s grandmother. Léonie wanted me to keep it safe.”
“Léonie?”
“A little girl.”
He nodded.
Célestine looked at his stained jacket.
“I can pay for the cleaning.”
Alaric considered the enormous brown mark spreading across the wool.
“Can you?”
She looked offended.
Then looked at the jacket again.
“Eventually.”
Something like amusement crossed his face.
“Don’t worry about it.”
She smiled.
“Thank you, Monsieur…”
“Alaric.”
“Célestine.”
He repeated her name.
“Célestine.”
It sounded different when he said it.
She wasn’t certain why.
They met again that evening.
Célestine had gone to the harbour to photograph the festival lights for Léonie, who had fallen asleep after dinner.
Alaric stood near the waterfront, speaking into his phone in German.
When he finished the call, he noticed her.
“You again.”
She glanced at his jacket.
“Different clothes. That’s promising.”
He looked down at his dark sweater.
“I’ve learned from experience.”
They began walking.
Neither suggested it.
They simply found themselves heading along the harbour in the same direction.
Célestine told him about the museums she loved.
Alaric told her about the old villa he’d come to inspect.
She recognised it immediately.
“The Villa Seraphine?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t buy that.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Why not?”
“Because half the town thinks it’s haunted and the other half thinks it belongs to them.”
“Neither sounds like a legal obstacle.”
She smiled.
“You’re going to be difficult, aren’t you?”
“Probably.”
They talked for nearly two hours.
Alaric discovered that Célestine had an unusually sharp eye for architecture and an irritating habit of challenging his assumptions.
Célestine discovered that beneath his controlled exterior, Alaric possessed a dry sense of humour and a surprising amount of patience for conversations he found interesting.
When they reached a small square, music began playing from a nearby café.
Alaric stopped.
“Would you like something to drink?”
Célestine considered.
“Are you going to make me pay for your jacket?”
