by Alice Quinn
Bingo! Got it! It was the old woman! Alzheimer’s my ass! She hadn’t been a confused little old lady! Poisonous old bitch! It was the old woman! This just couldn’t be real! No!
I remembered seeing her trembling little old-lady hands as she pulled her coat down from under my jacket. I was so preoccupied with Sabrina and the screaming hissy fit as the train approached the station . . . Wow! She’d snuck one over on me! Score for the Golden Girl! Old cow! Granny pants!
I couldn’t make up my mind whether to fly into a rage, have a nervous breakdown, or dissolve into hysterics. I didn’t have time to decide. Borelli’s car had just arrived.
I’d forgotten about the sabotaged investigation. He’d sensed that I needed to calm down and had come directly over. Classy Borelli! He always made out like he didn’t give a crap, but underneath it all, he so did.
When he saw the state I was in, he must have assumed it was because of Max and the coroner’s verdict.
“Hey! I’m glad I stopped by! Maldonne! Why get yourself so worked up about all this?”
He explained that as soon as he’d started taking a closer look at big Schwartzy, orders arrived from higher up to just drop it. The autopsy report was also revised, and a second one was issued following another set of orders from the powers that be. The case was closed.
While he was talking, I tried to come to terms with what had happened to my Big Pink. Tried to come to terms with it all. I was beaten, done for, I’d had it. What a loser. It’s really not in my character to accept defeat like that, but perhaps I was just learning to deal in my old age. Come on now, Rosie, just forget all about this diamond business. Sometimes you have to learn when enough is enough. That’s what I’d read in that book that Véro’s boss/therapist had written. “Know your limits.” That’s what Rachel Amar said. It was a bitter pill to swallow.
Borelli’s pill didn’t taste too sweet either. How could the investigation have been swept under the rug like that? Borelli finished with, “I’ve seen this happen before. You went for it hard, Maldonne. This guy was too high up. He was one of the big fish. And the big fish are the ones that get away. I’ll see it happen again. I’m under no illusions about that. And you, Mademoiselle—you could do with growing up some and not getting involved in other people’s battles. There’s no such thing as justice. Not where we come from.”
As he moseyed back to his car, I couldn’t help but notice how stooped over he appeared. Really beat. Just before getting into his ride, he beckoned me over. He opened the trunk and handed me some big boxes.
“These are for you.”
It was the kids’ gifts. I was overly emotional, but I didn’t want to show it too much.
“Thank you! Should we start calling you Santa from now on?”
I headed back inside and hid the boxes on top of the cupboard before the kids caught sight of them. Pastis wasn’t very happy. There was no more room for him up there.
Despite being more than happy about the toys, I wasn’t much in the mood to do anything. I didn’t feel like singing, dancing, or playing with the kids. There’d been too many disruptions in my life, and all of them one after the other. A continuous stream of shocks. I felt empty inside. There was a sense of confusion deep within my gut. I wanted to cry but didn’t have the right. I never allowed myself to cry in front of my kids.
I got under the covers on the sofa with my babies, Pastis, and our story CD. We listened to some nursery rhymes for a while. Then I fell asleep and my munchkins played around me.
The kidderoos were a little too naughty and noisy, though. They were goofing off and having a great time doing so! I didn’t catch much shut-eye. I put the radio on. There was a big hullabaloo! Our famous minister had announced his resignation from his old post and was now moving over to the office of minister of culture. That would mean museums, art galleries, and all that jazz!
Enough was enough! I chugged a glass of water. It didn’t do what I thought it would do. I didn’t feel any calmer. In fact, I felt like I was heading toward a full-on nervous breakdown.
85
I jumped halfway out of my skin at the noise of a horn. I heard doors slamming and voices. When I glanced out my window, I saw a herd launching themselves toward my trailer. Véro and Ismène were holding hands, little Pierre was in Véro’s arms, and Simon was running ahead toward me. Behind them, Lani and Humbert were completely entwined in each other. And farther behind still, a tall looker in a long cashmere coat . . . Could it be? My Théodore! He seemed a bit arrogant in that coat but still as hot as ever.
I jumped up and ran toward the bathroom as quickly as I could. I had to check my hair and put a bit of lipstick on. I didn’t have enough time, though! They let themselves in and the whole atmosphere changed. Everyone was blabbing away at the same time and talking over each other—the noise was incredible.
I was told Véro and Ismène had come to pick up the kidders because Humbert, Théodore, Lani, and I were off to the casino for a glamorous night out. It had all been arranged. Humbert had entered Lani into a poker tournament and declared her as having only recently entered France. He said she’d come specifically for the match. She managed to get a tourist visa with his help. I also learned that Théodore had made a quick trip back to Switzerland the night before in Gaston’s Jag.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “Please apologize to your uncle. I needed to move a few things and didn’t have a vehicle. My car’s being repaired.”
I know I can sometimes be a little slow off the mark, but I understood immediately what he was getting at. He’d taken the paintings over there.
“I can’t believe you took Gaston’s car for your forg—”
I didn’t have time to finish my sentence. He closed my mouth with a kiss. My face burned.
“Oh, not in front of everyone . . .”
“You’re so pretty when you blush.”
He was so adorable, period. But I had some questions for him.
“Didn’t the police search the house? It was all cordoned off, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, but they didn’t find the paintings. I’d put them in a safe place.”
He told me that right after we’d fled the castle, he’d dropped by my bedroom—no doubt hoping to slip between my sheets—but I’d flown! He searched the place, trying to hunt down a clue as to where we’d gone, and took the paintings and statuette from under my bed. He said he thought they were in a pretty safe place, but after seeing all the uniformed police officers hanging around the place, he decided to find a better hiding spot. So he quickly put the rudey-nudey girls on Gaston’s desk and taped the canvases onto the back of paintings hung up around the house. The result? When the cops entered the house, they were searching for clues as to my whereabouts and didn’t even think to look at Gaston’s furnishings.
I turned to Lani. “Datu? You daddy? You see him?”
I’d been wondering what had become of Datu ever since he’d made a run for it. I wanted to know if she’d gotten word from him.
“London. Phhheeewwww!” she replied.
I stared at Théodore. He was quick to explain that he’d send Datu everything that he owed him as soon as the paintings brought in some cash.
Sabrina didn’t want to leave with Véro until she’d seen me all dressed up and ready to go out. I slipped on a glittery pink miniskirt, a black velour halter, and patent-leather heeled boots. I looked the bomb. I topped it all off with a faux-fur neon-green coat and some fuchsia-pink lipstick, my hair messily piled up on top of my head.
Sabrina clapped when she saw me. “Mommy! You’re tho much better now than you were ath a boy.”
We all left the trailer at the same time. Pastis was left in charge of guarding the place. He was happy with the responsibility and took a spot next to the window to keep a lookout.
It was still a little too early for us to go straight to the casino, so Ismène suggested we go have a drink at Sélect.
I loved marching through the city center. It was freezing
cold, but I didn’t care with such a hottie on my arm. I felt like a million dollars with him.
The wind was so strong that we were almost blown through the doors of Sélect. Mimi was there to welcome us all with a cry: “The door!”
86
When Mimi saw it was me, she ran over and gave me the biggest of hugs. Everyone was buzzing, shaking hands, kissing each other on the cheeks. We’d certainly created a stir. We were blocking everyone’s way to the bar and taking up half the space. Tony stood there, his mouth wide open, giving Théodore the once-over.
“Enough already,” he muttered.
We went to sit down in the back room and placed our orders with Mimi. I ordered a real mojito. The kids did too (except theirs were virgin—I don’t have a screw loose). Ismène took a beer, and before Véro and Lani could say anything, Théodore suggested, “How about we get some champagne?”
“Great idea,” said Humbert.
“Hell! Let’s get a Magnum!” cried Théodore, taking my hand.
Mimi lowered her lashes at him and smiled. “I’ll be back right away.” We heard her shout out, “One mojito, four virgin mojitos, a draft beer, and an Asti Spumante Magnum! Come over here, Léo, I want you to meet my best friend. It’s thanks to her that you’re here.”
Léo! Her son!
A handsome teenage boy with gorgeous, long black lashes, deep-brown eyes, peach-colored skin, and curly chestnut hair walked in. He was the spitting image of . . . errr . . . Well, a mix between Johnny Depp, Leonardo DiCaprio, and Zac Efron. Shake those three all up and this boy is what you’d get. A stunner! The only problem was he was in a mood and sulky, like all teenage boys. He whispered a kind of hello and took a seat at another table.
Mimi explained, “He’s with me for the holidays. I finished the apartment. You’ll have to come by and take a look. I think he likes his bedroom. He doesn’t really say much, though. We’ve got some work to do, me and him. We need to get to know each other. But I’m just so happy he’s with me.”
I glanced at Léo. He was pretending he hadn’t heard anything, that he wasn’t in the slightest bit interested. But I knew he’d taken it on board.
Tony arrived with a tray holding a dozen glasses and a dozen bottles of tomato juice.
Théodore remarked, “I think there’s been a mix-up with our—”
He didn’t manage to finish his sentence. Tony gave him a death stare. I knew we’d end up with tomato juices, and that would be the end of it. Tony and everyone who worked at Sélect drank tomato juice. End of story. We’d be drinking it until the stock ran out, and unfortunately, it didn’t appear that would happen anytime soon.
The terrible atmosphere needed fixing fast, so I asked him, “Hey, Tony! What ended up happening with those FBI files?”
87
As if I’d waved a magic wand, Tony’s expression changed from a grimace to a wide grin in a single second. He went back to the bar and returned with a big round gold medal. It had stars and shit on it and was engraved around the outside with Department of Justice, Federal Bureau of Investigation.
“OMG!” exclaimed Théodore. In a whisper, he asked me whether Tony was in fact an undercover agent. I couldn’t stop laughing.
“That’s exactly what they said when they came to collect the files!” Tony said. “Americans always say ‘OMG,’ don’t they? OMG this, OMG that.”
“What did the files turn out to be?” I asked.
“It was all top secret. They contained all the scheduling and organization details from A to Z for Obama’s visit. The room numbers, airport pick-up and drop-off times, convoys, journey details, evacuation and security measures, where they’d eat, all his meetings, the names of every agent and their role. It was full of stuff.”
“Wow!”
That was Léo. Everyone looked over to him, surprised. We hadn’t heard a peep out of him until then. He went bright red and tried to pretend he was talking to the twinnies.
“So it all turned out OK in the end?” asked Ismène.
“It certainly did! They even gave me this medal.”
Suddenly, Humbert shouted, “It’s time!”
And off we went to the casino, easy as pie!
Sunday: The Kids, the Cat, and Little Old Me
88
Théodore left the trailer in the early hours of the morning. I pretended to be asleep, and after he left, I knew I’d never see his face again. It didn’t bother me all that much. My love for him had vanished as quickly as it had arrived. Perhaps all I ever really liked was that cashmere alpaca jacket/coat thing of his. Was I really that fickle? I thought about it some and didn’t have that good an opinion of myself.
So I decided to think about Christmas instead.
We all had to get ready for the holidays. Christmas and New Year’s were just around the corner. I told Ismène and Véro to bring the kids over and that I’d make my famous spag bol. We’d have a great time. I’d even make the pasta from scratch. I was sure Ismène could handle bringing dessert, and Véro could buy the alcohol. Just some cheap crap would do. It’d all be pretty makeshift and cramped to say the least, but that’s the way we lived—the kids, the cat, and little old me. That’s when we felt at our best.
I fell asleep, and my mother gently rocked me to dreamland with David Bowie singing about the port of Amsterdam.
I awoke suddenly at the sound of a car engine. Lani had arrived and was knocking loudly on the door. When I opened up, I saw she was holding a big camping bag. Her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes were sparkling. She was like a Christmas ornament! A multicolored, glittery Christmas ornament.
She shuffled around the trailer, filling the giant camping bag with stuff—clothes, toys, diapers . . . She finally went to the bathroom and threw in our toothbrushes and toiletries. Where in the heck was she going with our stuff?
The kids woke up and obviously thought this was the best thing that had ever happened to them. They joined in, adding more and more stuff to the bag. She gawked at me, bursting with joy!
She showed me her watch and said, “Twelve hours. Quick, quick, dress!”
OK, I knew enough English to know she meant noon. I had to do something as fast as I could. What was it? Why did I have to get dressed? What was I supposed to do?
Suddenly, I heard Ismène’s voice outside. She was in one of her moany moods.
“Come on! Get a move on, Cricri! We’re never going to make it at this rate! Gaston will be waiting for us.”
I looked outside and there was a huge van. Ismène was at the wheel, Véro was in the passenger seat, and there was enough room for a football team in the back. Simon was waving like mad, and Pierre was unable to move much in his car seat, but he appeared happy enough.
“Get your butt in gear, Cricri!” Ismène shouted again.
It took me less than five minutes to throw our stuff in the trunk, get my munchkins strapped in, grab the litter box and travel bag for Pastis, lock up, and jump in.
This was going to be the best Christmas ever. With some of her casino winnings, Lani had bought us a trip to Amsterdam and rented the van, but she wasn’t coming with us. She had her family in Manila to see.
It would take us twelve hours to get there. I thought that was optimistic with five kids and a cat, but I went along with it. Gaston would be waiting for us in a private mansion that had been rented out for the whole holiday period . . . just for us!
Ismène couldn’t have been happier. She loved being the boss, and the driver was always the boss. She was looking forward to this road trip more than any of us. Véro couldn’t stop smiling. A real vacation at last! I gave Lani the keys to the trailer before we left, just in case. Sabrina was next to her Simon again. There was no place better for her. I sat behind the twins and baby Pierre. This had taken some organizing. There were three car seats and two kiddy seats. Good job, Lani! Borelli had been my Santa. And now here was Mrs. Claus!
Oh! I’d forgotten the gifts on top of the cupboard. I told Lani to head back inside after we wer
e gone and to take everything down to the food bank. Those gifts would make two kids very happy this Christmas. Two kids who had nothing. Two kids somewhere with a mother who was down on her luck. Meanwhile I had a trip to Amsterdam with my family and friends. Who could want anything more than that?
I kissed Lani through the window. Ismène started up the engine and off we all went, rolling away gently. I sighed with relief, rested my head on one of the kid’s fluffy toys, stroked Pastis (who was on my knee and not in his carrier . . . That cat!), and to the sweet nuzzling sounds of the three smallest kids, fell swiftly asleep.
Acknowledgments
Voltaire wrote, “I have chosen to be happy because it is good for my health.” It is in following his advice that I started to write the Rosie Maldonne series. Sharing these close and intimate moments with my Rosie gives me great joy, especially when I imagine that my readers might possibly feel this very same sense of happiness.
Of all the wonderful people who help me throughout my writing process, those of you who are among my first readers are an integral part of this joy.
For the English version of this second novel, I want to sincerely thank my translator, Alexandra Maldwyn-Davies, for her talent, commitment, and warmth of character that so resembles Rosie’s.
Thank you to my friends and colleagues who read the first draft of the book for their encouragement, complicity, and rigorousness: Julien Biri, Catherine de Palma, Cyril Godefroy, and Alain Evin.
Thank you to my talented pair of graphic designers, Aurelie and Charlotte. These young women are separated by an ocean, but boast an incredible ability to work in unison. They have continued to demonstrate their skills in getting Rosie’s image just right for this second cover.
Thank you to Lionel for his incredible support on every level.
