Chapter 10

10

Y ou could hear the throngs of people through the wall of plywood cabins that lined the grounds. Thomas ran ahead to where the opening was and turned back to smileat his mom, beckoning. Then he was gone.

“Thomas, wait.” It was half-hearted. She was already letting the bright atmosphere of the marché de no?l pull her in from the cold darkness that lay outside the enclosed festivities.

The open-faced cabins were set up in a large square with aisles connecting the two ends, forming a labyrinth. The aisles were carpeted in red, vibrant with Christmas colors and bustling with people, and each stall was brightly lit on the outside with the interior of each stall muted in soft lighting. You could spend hours in the market, going down one edge and examining the goods, then going up the other side and catching the stalls you missed. Chastity smelled the hot, spiced wine from the entrance, its fragrance mixing with the smoky scent of roasting chestnuts.

Thomas was in front of one of the first stalls, his attention already fixated on a stand with wooden toys. There was a chess set, wooden puppets in various sizes and positions, and complicated puzzles that Chastity had no interest in even beginning to attempt. Thomas gingerly took one of them in his hands.

Chastity bit her lip to keep from admonishing him to put it back and simply watched him instead. He turned the puzzle this way and that, his brows pulled together in concentration. The vendor studied him, then gently took the puzzle from his hands and gave an unexpected series of twists and pulls, which freed the wooden loop from its prison. Then he winked at Thomas and handed it back to him. Thomas’s eyes shone with delight as he flashed a grin at the vendor. She made a mental note to come back and get the puzzle for a Christmas gift.

“Come,” she said. “Let’s get a waffle first and then we can visit all the stands. We won’t be eating dinner until after we get home, and I don’t want you to get grouchy.”

“I never get grouchy,” was his indignant reply.

“You're right, honey.” She gave his shoulder a soft squeeze. The woman at the confection stand was waiting, so she gestured “two,” pointing at the waffles, before leaning down to kiss her son’s head.

Charles walked next to Manon, her arm woven through his. She made a pretty picture with her blond hair set against a red wool coat, tied at the waist. The actress was home for the holidays, and as promised, he did not end their relationship before they had a chance to see if they could make it work in person—to see if there was something there.

However, Charles was beginning to regret his decision to bring her to his city’s Christmas market, and it was not helping their relationship. For one thing, she was wearing her sunglasses, although night had fallen early. And her permanent reflex of moving furtively called attention to herself just as it had in London. As he watched her, he couldn’t help but feel that her gestures were theatrical. Nothing seemed genuine. No expression of delight, no pleading for him to offer her a “darling little trinket” seemed natural to him. He was polite, but his heart wasn’t in it.

She stopped at one of the stands and squealed over the Belgian lace. The silk threads were woven so daintily, it seemed like they would fall apart at the touch, but the salesperson assured them thepastoral image was stronger than it looked.

“May I offer you one?” He scanned the various designs.

“Oh Charles, would you? Of course I can afford it, but it's nicer to receive it as a gift than buy it with my own money. It makes me feel cherished.” Charles felt a twinge of guilt as he opened his wallet.

Handing her the paper bag containing the expensive token wrapped in tissue paper, Charles indicated the stand in front of them. “Shall we get something to eat?” He could see her hesitate as she scanned the menu of fried dough and candy apples.

“Sure.” Manon hesitated. “I’ll have a crèpe with jam.” Charles went over to pay, knowing that most of it would end up in the garbage. Manon made her way to the only wooden bench that was left, looking down, and fiddling with the tassels on her camel-colored purse with gold buckles.

Chastity thought the woman facing her seemed familiar as she took a bite of her waffle, and she only caught the end of Thomas's sentence. “…too bad my father couldn’t come.” Shesnapped back to attention. “Yes it is, sweetie. I think he had to work.”

To tell the truth,she was surprised that Marc had given up the chance to accompany them to the market, in what would have been their first public outing surrounded by people she might know. She’d tensed up when Thomas invited him, breathing a sigh of reliefwhen he turned it down.

She squeezed his hand. “I have to say, buddy, I’m glad it’s just the two of us.”

Chastityglanced up as Mr. de Brase walked towards her, easily managing two glasses of spiced wine and plates of food. For a minute she thought he was coming to sit with her and she felt her face grow hot. He stared right through her, though, then sat with his back to her, a short distance from where her son was sitting across from her. She looked down and discovered powdered sugar all over the front of her sweater. She brushed it off as her heart raced wildly. Oh right. That’s the viscount's girlfriend — the famous Manon Duprey in the flesh.

“—but can we invite him for Christmas?” she heard Thomas asking. He was almost done with his waffle and hadn’t noticed anything with her was amiss. She caught his last words and was able to reply smoothly. “Um. Perhaps not for Christmas. But maybe we can invite him for New Year’s.”

“Oh, yes. He can stay up with us until midnight.” Chastity immediately regretted having offered even this intimate part of their lives. She wasn’t ready for the holidays yet.

Manon took a dainty bite of her crèpe and chewed it thoughtfully. She took a sip of wine, before saying, “So, are we okay, you and me? We haven’t talked since I got back.”

Charles looked up in surprise that she would bring it up in a public place. “We’re fine,” he said shortly. “Unless there’s something you haven’t told me.” He examined her quizzically, but she didn’t take the bait.

When he had taken another bite of his baguette and sausage, she spoke. “You’re trying to turn this back on me, but I’ve given you every reassurance I can think of, and it’s like talking to a brick wall.”

He watched her blink away tears and realized that for once she was being sincere. He felt guilty for the second time thiseveningfor having kept her at arm’s length. Maybe it was hasty to think about breaking up with her this soon. It wasn’t like he was ever going to have what he hadwithMiriam again. Surely this was as good as itwas ever going to get.

Charles reached out and touched her hand, giving her a genuine smile for the first time allday. “You’re right. I haven’t been very giving. But we’re fine.” He gave her hand a pat, then picked up his plastic glass of hot wine and drank what was left.

She pushed her plate away. “I can’t finish this. Shall we get out of here?” He noted the crèpe, which had exactly one bite taken out of it, just as he had expected.

“Of course. You know I can’t leave here yet. I need to stay and support this event a bit longer since it's the grand opening.”

“I knew that,” she lied.

Chastity watched as Mr. de Brase stood and put his black wool coat back on. It was warm enough in the food stall to take it off, but the cold air crept into the rest of the marché and made the outerwear indispensable. She noticed how nice his red scarf looked against his matte complexion, and how well it matched the actress’s coat. He put his arm around her as they walked out, tilting his ear to catch what she was saying while they turned the corner. Just perfect . Chastity sighed.

“Are you finished, Thomas?” She forced herself to be cheerful.

“Yup, Mom. You’re the one who’s not.” Hepointed at her forgotten waffle on the plate and grinned.

“Ah, silly me. I must have had too big of a lunch.” She scooted her plate towards him. “Want it?”

“No thanks, Mom. I’m full.” Thomas was silent, spinningthe paper plate in front of him. Chastity's mind was filled with the image ofthe viscount’s unsmiling face as he walked towards her.

“Mom?” Thomas’s voice was tinged with a worry she didn't pick up on.

“Hm?” she murmured absently.

“You said I could talk to you about anything, right?”

“Sure thing, sweetie.” She was not looking at him, but at the crowd walking by. “Oh look.” She pointed. “There’s Maude. Shall we go catch her?” With the eagerness only achild could possess, Thomasforgotthe subjectand raced after her friend, grabbing the back of her coat.

“Tommee,” Maude squealed, picking him up and twirling him around. “You know, in a year or two I won’t be able to do that.”

“I know.” Thomas grinned as his mom walked up.

“Hey,” Chastity greeted Maude with the bises on each cheek. “Have you seen anything you liked?”

“Well, yeah,” Maude said. “I’m interested in the knitted hats and scarves because I’m willing to bet I could make something like that and it would sell.”

“Wait. You knit?” Chastity raised an eyebrow.

“Every scarf and sweater Michel owns.”

“I can’t believe you find the time.” She thought of her own life and how busy it was.

“We don’t have kids, for one thing,” Maude reflected comfortably. “I find it relaxing. It’s orderly, just like Math. Every stitch has its place.”

“Maybe you could teach knitting to your Math students,” Chastity teased. “The boys would love that. Anyway, show me. I want to see what kinds of things you can make. Thomas, let’s go see if we can find some other stands with toys in them too, okay?”

He ran ahead by way of answer, even though he didn’t know where he was supposed to go. Chastity admired his energyand laughed. “Don’t go too far, Thomas.” He stopped suddenly and darted over to a stall that had stickers and pens, and small desk toys that were propped up on little wires.

“Oh perfect,” said Maude. “He’s stopped just in the right place. There’s the knitted-wear stand.”

Chastity fingereda tomato-red scarf. “Oh, this one is nice.” She sighed. “Too bad I can never wear it.”

“But this one you totally could.” Maude pulled out a forest green hat with pale green trim. She whispered, “Don’t buy it though. I’ll make you one just like it.”

Manon pulled on Charles’s arm and headed towardsa stand with soaps from Provence. He extricated himself, saying, “I see the mayor over there. I’ll be right back.” Her eyes grew wide, probably at the thought of being left alone, but she schooled her features to hide it.

“Okay, chéri.”

“Bertrand.” Charles extended his hand to an older man in an expensive suit that pulledat the waist.

“Ah, Charles.” The mayor returned the handshake. “Are you here on your own?”

“No. Manon Duprey came with me. She’s over there.” The gleam in the mayor’s eye meant he would be expecting an introduction. “I’ll introduce you to her,” Charlespromised with a wry smile.

“In good time, Charles. You know I have to ask you again this year if you’ll consider opening your home for a spring ball.” Charles started to shake his head, butthe mayor went on. “Now think about it, Charles, before you say no. Your father agreed to it in the past, and it did such good for the community.”

“My father agreed to it until the artwork went missing. I just can’t take that risk again.”

“I understand that. I do. But some of the townspeople are pressuring me on this one. The chateau is no longer a patrimony that belongs to the town, and the peoplewant something in return. If you agreed to this, we would have every available officer on call to keep an eye on things. Think about it, okay, Charles? Everyone is hoping for this.”

“I’ll…think about it,” was the most Charles could manage, although he was sure he would not change his mind.

“Now, let’s see about that introduction.” The mayor clapped him on the back and steeredhim towards the soap stand where Manon was accepting a brown paper bag with her fragrant collection inside.

“I got almond, green tea, and lemon—” She stopped when she noticed the mayor walking next to Charles.

“Mademoiselle Duprey.” He took both her hands in his own and kissed them, before pulling her in and kissing her on both cheeks.

“Let me introduce you to Bertrand Le Neveu, the mayor of Maisons-Laffitte,” Charles said drily. The mayor already had his arm around Manon’s waist and was walking forward with her, pointing out a stand that boasted chocolates made in France. He whispered something in her ear.

“You rogue,” she said, laughing and blushing. She was used to this kind of attention—an older gentleman of position and wealth favoring her with his notice. These gentlemen could be useful to her career, and it wasn’t hard to please them.

“Charles, I’m just going to buy Mlle Duprey some chocolate. You can catch up with us further on.” The mayor dismissed him with a wink.

Charles nodded, unthreatened. He wasn’t unhappy to be alone and continued down the aisle of the marché . His main goal was to make an appearance and let everyone know he was supporting the town. He didn’t need anything in particular among the goods that were displayed. To kill time, he paused at one of the stands on the corner of the aisle to examine the collection of fountain pens.

“Mommy, it’s starting to snow.” Thomas ran forward again. Sure enough, fat snowflakes were visible against the overhead lights, although they were hidden in the night beyond that.

Chastity and Maude began to walk behindhim. “We’ll just follow this row down to the exit and then be on our way. I don’t want to get Thomas home too late.”

“Oh. Guess what," Maude said. "I saw the actress here—Manon Duprey. She must be here with Mr. de Brase.”

Thomas had stopped at the corner stand, which containedhorse paraphernalia, so they stood in the aisle just next to him.

“I know,” said Chastity. “I saw them eating at the next table. He didn’t look happy to be here.” Her dimples showed as she lowered her voice. “Mixing with the commoners.”

“His father had more of a reputation for interacting with the people of the town than our Mr. de Brase does,” Maude said in a wry voice. “Apparently the older viscount even put on an elegant ball in the chateau and opened it for the community to come and dance. The mayor has been begging the current viscountto do the same, but so far he’s refused.”

“Thomas, wait.” Chastity said, as her son darted forward again.

The two women followed him, and as they crossed the intersection of stalls, she said in a voice louder than intended, “Ha. The current viscount.”

A gentleman in a black wool coat at a nearby stall turned his head slightly at her words. Though she lowered her voice, he caught the rest before the women were out of sight. “No surprise that he refuses to host a ball. Why should he lift a finger to do something nice for the townwhen he clearly has nothing personal to gain from it?”