Together at the Table

by Hillary Manton Lodge

  “My older brothers…Nathan had left a professorship in Warsaw. He had trouble finding work in Paris, but it was still safer for him to be in Paris than Warsaw—at least for a while. He bought a cart, and Gabriel got him delivery work with restaurants he had connections with.

  “It was more than that, though. And I wasn’t supposed to know, but I overheard one night. Gabriel and Nathan were using Nathan’s cart to deliver leftover food from Gabriel’s restaurant to the Oeuvre de Secours aux Enfants—OSE, or the Children’s Relief Committee—one of the charitable organizations within the city that protected and cared for Jewish orphans.

  “Alice and I left for America two weeks before Gabriel died. I don’t know what happened, exactly—my parents received a note through a messenger telling them to leave Paris the night that Gabriel was killed. The note was in my brother Nathan’s handwriting, but unsigned.

  “My parents fled their home, and friends hid them in an abandoned flat. But the conditions were poor, and they died soon after the liberation. Nathan wrote me from Spain, once, but I wrote back and never received a reply.” Benjamin took a deep, ragged breath. “I never saw my parents again. I lost both my brothers.”

  The silence that followed wrung my heart.

  We watched as Benjamin’s chest rose and fell in a deep breath. Vi reached for her father’s hand; he gave it an absent pat.

  “Alice and I built a new life for ourselves. I found a job with Tiffany’s in New York. Violette was born, Rosie and Lisette shortly after. We made a new family of our own. We were happy. But— I always missed my brothers.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, hating the pain I saw in his face, hating that my questions had brought that pain to the surface. I glanced toward my newfound cousins. “We can be done with the questions.”

  Benjamin gave me a warm smile. “Those were difficult days. But there were happier days too. Not that one makes up for the other, but,” he continued, “neither do the difficult days make the happy ones matter less.”

  In the end, Rose ordered her father to take a nap, and Lisette and I did the dishes. Damian chatted with the husbands, and the boys ran wild in Rose’s spacious backyard. Vi and Caterina got to talking about teaching languages—as it turned out, Vi taught French during her graduate-school days.

  Rose came and helped Lisette and me set the dishes out to dry before asking about our travel plans—and offering another slice of chocolate cake.

  “What is in this, anyway? It’s so moist, but I’m also getting a faint earthiness.”

  Rose’s eyes twinkled. “Beets. My sainted husband’s mother’s recipe.”

  “How long has he been gone?”

  “Oh, it’s been ten years now. Cancer.” She shook her head. “It’s nasty, there’s no getting around it. But we had twenty-three good years, and more recipes than that cake for me to remember him by.”

  “I admire you,” I told her plainly. “Your bakery, the way you’ve carried on after losing your husband…”

  Rose held up a hand. “Never underestimate the benefit of a licensed therapist. The bakery, my therapist, and my women’s Bible study kept me from going completely to pieces. I still miss Stephen, don’t get me wrong. But I have family, loved ones, and a business that keeps me going. Enough about me. Tell me about your travel plans.”

  I took another bite of cake first. “We’ll stay the night tonight, head back tomorrow. The boys will miss another day of school, but Caterina didn’t blink over it.”

  “Well, I should have asked sooner, but I have a friend—who’s in the Bible study I mentioned—who runs a nice little inn nearby. The building is on the historical register. I know she’ll have rooms available, this part of the week, and she’ll give you a very nice rate. Under normal circumstances,” she added, “I’d put you up here. But with the family here, I’m out of beds and air mattresses.”

  “The inn sounds lovely,” I said. “I’m sure we can adjust our reservations.”

  “I’ll call Martha. A fair warning”—Rose’s voice turned serious—“she’ll try to spoil the boys rotten.”

  “There are worse things,” I said, as if I hadn’t already caught her sneaking cookies to Christian and Luca, who’d overcome their initial shyness with their new cousin.

  I walked outside to find Caterina and relay the message. Within the space of ten minutes, we’d rearranged our accommodations and booked rooms with Martha, who offered a shockingly low rate for our two rooms.

  We enjoyed the rest of the day with our newfound family. I refrained from asking any more about the past and instead focused on getting to know everyone better. By the time we finally left and checked into the inn, both boys were punch-drunk tired.

  We settled in quickly at Martha’s inn, thanks to a glass of wine for the adults and cookies for the boys.

  I curled up in bed, feeling the exhaustion deep in my bones, but my brain kept pinging. I couldn’t stop thinking about Gabriel, about Benjamin, and how he’d lost his birth family to the war.

  Before I could think better of it, I texted Neil. “Met Benjamin today. And his daughters. Learned more about Gabriel, but still missing pieces.”

  A moment later, my phone rang.

  This is my invariable advice to people: Learn how to cook—try new recipes, learn from your mistakes, be fearless, and above all have fun!

  —JULIA CHILD

  “This is a change of pace,” Neil said when I picked up. “You in central time, me on Pacific.”

  “True,” I said with a chuckle. “How does it feel?”

  “Nice. I’m sitting on my patio, enjoying the evening. Tell me about Benjamin.”

  I shared what I’d learned at lunch, about Gabriel’s involvement with the OSE, about how he’d been shot, about how Nathan had disappeared in Spain.

  “What amazes me about your family,” he said afterward, “is how every answer creates new questions.”

  “Right.” I rolled onto my back and drew my knees up. “So many questions.”

  “Did you ask about baby Alice?”

  “I didn’t. He seemed worn out after talking about losing his family, and I don’t want to wear out our welcome. But he and his wife—also an Alice—left Paris before the Vel’ d’Hiv. So I doubt he can tell me much. The only thing might be if his parents knew.”

  “What are your cousins like?”

  “They’re amazing. Lisette is the sweetest; Vi is like the New York version of Caterina. They got along like a house on fire.”

  “Genetics, man.”

  “And Rose—she’s incredible. She’s what I want to be when I’m a grownup.”

  A soft laugh. “You are a grownup.”

  I pressed the back of my hand to my brow bone. “I mean, a real grownup. One with her act together, who knows what she’s doing. I mean, Rose—she’s a force of nature.” I exhaled. “She kinda reminds me of Sandrine.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Just her nature. And she had a friend with an inn, set us up in a great place, low rate for the night. Sandrine did the same when I flew into Paris, sent me to a friend. Anyway, Rose is a James Beard winner too. And she has a whole program about training at-risk kids in her kitchens. She’s—she’s fearless.”

  “You’ve got your own adventurous streak.”

  “You’re sweet. I’m pathologically cautious: I know that to be true about myself.”

  “You dated a guy you met on the Internet.”

  “Aww, come on—have you met you? Give yourself some credit. If I’m pathologically cautious, you’re pathologically trustworthy.” I took a deep breath and plunged forward. “Speaking of dating,” I said, “Adrian and I broke up. I’m just, um, yeah. That happened,” I ended awkwardly.

  A pause. “How do you feel about that?”

  “Oh…all kinds of mixed up. Just a lot happening at once. Let’s be honest. Two breakups in four months, plus losing my mom in the middle? I think I need to hole up in a nunnery for a while.”

  He chuckled. “I’m not sure I c
an see you as a nun.”

  “I’d just be a temp or something. A novice? You’d think with an Italian father, I’d know more about such things.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I just…I feel like I need to get my head on straight.”

  “What makes you think it’s not?”

  I gave a bitter laugh. “I’m running from my problems, for one thing.”

  “Chalk it up as an excuse to get out of town and see your sister. You and Caterina are close, aren’t you?”

  “She’s my best friend,” I answered simply.

  “When are you flying back?”

  “I haven’t purchased my return ticket, but I told Nico I’d be here a week or two. Christmas is coming, so I can’t hide away too long. Christmas in Portland is pretty great.”

  “If you need new places to go, just ask me.”

  “Thanks, and back atcha. Trying to decide—I can’t say if you should wait in line at Salt & Straw or Voodoo Doughnuts. Do you have a preference?”

  “Not waiting in line? Portlanders are surprisingly willing to wait for their food.”

  “They’re willing to wait when the food is worth their time. I think Salt & Straw. And really, they’ve got a smart setup to keep your wait as short as possible, and they give out samples while you’re in line. At least, they did when I was there.”

  “And this is…artisanal salt? And straw?”

  “It’s ice cream,” I said with a laugh. “Really good ice cream, with fun, inventive flavors. And even if you don’t want inventive, the basics are worth the wait.”

  “Well, if you’re sending me to ice cream, then you have to get Cat to take you to Black Dog Gelato. Once you’re back in Chicago, at least.”

  “That shouldn’t prove too hard,” I said, though the last word got swallowed by a yawn. “Sorry.”

  “When are you leaving for France?”

  “January. But I haven’t bought tickets yet—waiting to see how my work schedule shakes out.”

  “So you might not go?”

  “If I don’t in the winter, I’ll go in the spring.”

  “And if not spring, summer?”

  I laughed. “Not sure I can make it that long. I just feel like we’re so close to finding something. It’s anyone’s guess what that something is, but I just…” I yawned again. “There’s something. I’m trying to be practical about work, though.”

  “I should let you sleep.”

  “I probably should. It’ll be another big day.”

  “Tell me how it goes with Benjamin tomorrow. Enjoy your new family.”

  “It’s nice having new family,” I said. “A new family with new family recipes.”

  “Of course you’d think of it this way.”

  “Family recipes got me into this—looking through Grand-mère’s cookbook.”

  “And look what happened.”

  “Look what happened,” I echoed, trying and failing to stifle a third yawn.

  Neil chuckled. “Sleep well, Juliette. Dream of chocolate cake.”

  I didn’t dream of chocolate cake, but I did dream of Neil. Once again, we were walking through the lavender field outside of Chateau de l’Abeille. Our hands were intertwined, the sun was on our faces, the wind teased the ends of our hair. On waking, I stayed in bed with my eyes closed as long as possible, then felt guilty once I woke.

  Nostalgia about that relationship—it wouldn’t lead to anything good.

  I’d only just tied my hair back into a ponytail when the boys knocked on my door. I slapped on enough blush and lipstick to look convincingly alive before following the boys back out and finding Caterina in the breakfast room below.

  “There you are!” Caterina smiled broadly when she saw me. “I’m fairly certain Rose is planning on feeding us again, but I woke up hungry. Coffee?”

  “Yes to coffee.”

  “Let me get some for you. Boys? Sit down, feet off the seat. We’re just having a snack and then going to Miss Rose’s.” Caterina used a tray to fix plates for me and the boys before filling a mug with hot black coffee. She gave me a onceover as she set my plate before me. “Are you all right?”

  I reached for the coffee and held it tight. “Strange dreams. Again. I’m fine.”

  Caterina arched an eyebrow. “Pining?”

  “Nope. No pining. None at all.”

  “I’d believe you more if you didn’t say it three times over.”

  I sipped my coffee and didn’t answer for a moment. “Nico’s working out the Christmas Eve menu,” I said, evading the topic. “We need to look ahead to New Year’s too.”

  Whether Caterina noticed I was holding her off or not, she let it go. “You’re planning on going to Provence with us for Epiphany, right?”

  “I was just talking about that with Neil,” I said. “As long as I can get away, I hope to make the trip.”

  “And if you can’t?”

  I cringed at the thought. “I’d go later, but I’d hate to wait. Too many mysteries.”

  “There are mysteries, that’s for sure.” Caterina waited until the boys were wholly occupied with their food before posing her next question. “So, how much are you pining?”

  I rolled my eyes. “And here I thought I’d distracted you.”

  She snorted. “As if.”

  “Well, I’m not going to waste away in a Parisian garret, if that’s what you’re worrying about.” I shrugged. “I need a break from men for a while. Neil and I are just talking. As far as a relationship goes, that door has closed.”

  “I saw him. That door looked…ajar, from where I was standing.”

  “But he’s not going to stay in Portland.”

  “So, what would it take, hypothetically, for you to leave?”

  I shook my head. “I couldn’t.”

  “Not at all?”

  “With everything that’s happened, with the restaurant, with Dad…I couldn’t leave.”

  Caterina leaned forward. “If you were in love—truly, madly in love—Dad would tell you to leave. You know that, right?”

  “I do. He told me to find a man in Chicago. But I’ve got responsibilities in Portland. Roots.”

  “Whether you want to stay at the restaurant forever is your decision. But I really think Nico could learn to carry on if you left.”

  “My…my memories of Mom are there.”

  Caterina covered my hand with hers. “I know.”

  “And at any rate, the issues between Neil and me weren’t just geographical. I didn’t fit into his world.”

  “Was that really the problem? Like, an insurmountable problem?”

  I remembered what I’d told Adrian: Neil and I hadn’t chosen each other. We were too scared, too selfish, too distracted. “It feels like a lifetime ago,” I said. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not pining. And maybe I’ll meet someone in Chicago, like Dad told me to.”

  Damian entered the room, making an immediate beeline for the coffee. “I need caffeine,” he said. “When are you guys planning on going to Rose’s?”

  “Soon,” I said. “Not until after you’re done with your coffee.”

  He raised his mug in a salute. “Glad to hear it.”

  As I anticipated, Rose provided a beautiful spread. The house was so full of delicious scents that I enjoyed a second breakfast like a respectable hobbit. After helping with the breakfast dishes, I sat down on the love seat next to Benjamin.

  My great-uncle Benjamin. I still couldn’t get over it.

  “I still have questions,” I said, “if you’re up for them. I know it was a difficult time for you.”

  “But you forget,” he said. “I knew your grandfather. He was a very curious man. Both of us would have been disappointed if his granddaughter had no curiosity.”

  I grinned. “Fair enough. Well, I want to know more about him, about Gabriel. And the other piece of the puzzle is my mother’s twin, Alice. You see, we didn’t know about her until I found the letters.”

  Benjamin’s eyes rounded in alarm. “You did not know
about Alice? How do you mean?”

  “We didn’t know she existed, and I don’t know what happened. Mireille got to safety at the chateau,” I explained, “after Gabriel’s death. I really don’t know how; it wasn’t easy after Paris fell. But she did, somehow, and she had both girls with her. After that, though, we don’t know what happened. I had hoped—I’d hoped you might have an answer.”

  He shook his head. “I do not. I know that my parents tried to find Mireille, and that there were letters to the chateau, as well as a phone call. The letters were returned, and the gentleman who answered said that there was no Mireille Roussard at the house.”

  “She did remarry,” I said. “And shortly after, I think. The house never left the family—my cousin runs it now. Someone didn’t want Mireille to be found, and it could have been Mireille herself.” I sat back. “I’m sorry your parents were turned away.”

  “Difficult times. And the residents may have had good reasons.”

  “I know that Mireille married Gilles at some point, and shared the chateau with Richard and Cécile until Gilles’s death.”

  Caterina approached and put a hand on my shoulder. “Would you like another cup of coffee? Rose has a fresh pot on.”

  “Oh, sure. Uncle Benjamin?”

  “Coffee? Oh yes. Always,” he replied with a sly smile.

  Caterina returned with the coffee, and I gestured for her to join us. “Uncle Benjamin, we were really hoping you could tell us more about our grandfather.”

  “Of course,” Benjamin answered with a broad smile. “And thank you.” He paused for a moment to stir his coffee. “He was a good man, my brother. I idolized both brothers, but I knew Gabriel best. Nathan left for Warsaw and married and lived a separate life. Gabriel and I shared a garret in the city together. He was a serious boy, very earnest. Also stubborn, which was difficult when we couldn’t agree, but good when I needed an advocate. And the stubbornness paid off—he worked very hard to be a master pastry chef. And it took patience. He used that same patience when he courted Mireille.”