Chapter 7: The Old Lady

Mireille's POV

His car was still on the quay when I unlocked the bakery at five.

He was asleep behind the wheel with his coat collar up and his chin on his chest.

I looked at the shadows under his eyes for exactly as long as it took to fit the key.

Then I went in and turned on the ovens.

At seven I carried a coffee out to the car and rapped on the window.

Killian woke at once, and his hand went to the door.

I handed the cup through the glass and kept my fingers away from his.

"Question one," I said. "Why did you have a copy made?"

He sat up straight.

"Because I could not give you the real one."

"Why not?"

"That's a second question."

"It's the same question. Try again."

He turned the cup in his hands.

"I wanted you to have something on your wrist on the anniversary," he said.

"I should have told you what it was. I'm sorry it was glass."

"That's half an answer."

"It's the half I can give you today."

I waited.

He said nothing more, and I was angry that I had half expected him to.

"Rule two," I said. "Truthfully, not completely. I'll take it. Tomorrow I'll ask a better one."

I walked back across the quay with my arms folded.

At ten o'clock a long black car pulled up outside the bakery and sat there with its engine running.

A driver in gloves came around and opened the rear door.

A cane came out first.

Then came a white bob, a gray wool coat and a string of pearls, and every head in the shop turned.

Constance Hayes stood on the wet quay and looked at the bakery sign for a long moment.

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