Part 9
“Amelie,” she said.
Amelie stood.
“This is Poppy.”
The manager looked at the child, then at Gabriel.
“I understand.”
No one had explained anything, but the woman understood enough.
“Was she found in the east preparation suite?” she asked.
Gabriel nodded.
“The ivory door?”
“Yes.”
The manager’s face tightened.
“That room should not have been locked.”
“It was.”
“I’m checking the access ledger.”
Gabriel looked at Amelie.
The manager continued, “Only staff and family were supposed to use that wing tonight.”
Poppy pressed closer to Gabriel.
The manager noticed.
Her voice softened.
“You’re safe now, sweetheart.”
Poppy did not respond.
Amelie said, “Don’t question her right now.”
“Of course.”
The manager looked toward the doorway.
“Your mother is asking for you.”
Amelie’s shoulders rose with a breath.
“Tell her I’ll come in a few minutes.”
“She is worried.”
“I know.”
The manager hesitated.
Then she nodded and returned to the villa.
Gabriel watched her go.
“Do you trust her?” he asked.
Amelie looked at him.
“I trusted everyone here an hour ago.”
The answer sat between them.
Poppy said, “Mommy said not to trust people who smile too fast.”
Gabriel looked down.
“Did the lady smile?”
Poppy nodded.
“Was she nice?”
“At first.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she knew where Daddy was.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened.
“Did she say your mom told her to bring you?”
Poppy nodded.
“Did you believe her?”
“She had Mommy’s coat.”
The wind moved softly through the courtyard.
Amelie’s eyes narrowed.
“What kind of coat?”
“Cream.”
Gabriel thought of Marin’s old raincoat. It had been pale beige, nearly ivory. She wore it whenever it rained, even after the lining tore near the pocket.
“Did you see your mom give the lady the coat?” he asked.
Poppy shook her head.
“Mommy wasn’t there.”
The answer changed the air.
Gabriel felt Amelie look at him.
“Then how did she get the coat?” she asked.
Poppy began to cry again, quietly.
Gabriel held her tighter.
“It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to answer.”
“She said Mommy was waiting,” Poppy whispered. “But Mommy wasn’t there.”
Amelie’s face went pale.
“What happened before the lady came?” Gabriel asked gently.
Poppy rubbed at her cheek.
“Mommy was on the phone.”
“With who?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did she say?”
Poppy’s face tightened, trying to remember.
“She said, ‘You promised you wouldn’t do this again.’”
Gabriel stopped breathing for a second.
“Who did she say that to?”
“The phone.”
“Did she say a name?”
The child shook her head.
“She was scared.”
Amelie stood.
“Again,” she said quietly.
Gabriel looked at her.
“What?”
“She said, ‘You promised you wouldn’t do this again.’”
The sentence sounded different coming from Amelie.
“Do you recognize it?”
Amelie’s mouth tightened.
“My father used to say that to people.”
Gabriel went still.
“What?”
“He used to say it when someone came to him with a problem he thought they should have handled privately.”
“Your father died before Marin disappeared.”
“I know.”
The words came out sharply.
Then Amelie looked at Poppy and softened her face.
“I know.”
She turned away from them for a second.
The villa behind her had belonged to her family for generations. Her father had died when she was twenty-four, before she met Gabriel. She spoke of him carefully, usually with warmth. A man who worked too much but remembered the names of vineyard workers’ children. A man who brought Amelie hot chocolate when she was sick and taught her to drive on the service roads between the vines.
Gabriel had met people who knew him differently.
All wealthy men were known differently by different people.
“What did your father have to do with Marin?” he asked.
Amelie looked at him.
“I don’t know.”
“But?”
“But he knew your father. He knew everyone who mattered in your family.”
Gabriel felt the old anger rise in him, not directed at Amelie, not exactly. At the invisible structure around them. At the men who made private decisions for other people and called it protection.
His father had been gone four years.
Still, the older man could reach into a wedding courtyard and make his son feel twelve years old again.
Poppy began to droop against Gabriel’s chest.
The day had exhausted her. Fear had a way of making children look suddenly younger.
Amelie noticed.
“She needs to rest,” she said.
Poppy shook her head immediately.
“No door.”
“No closed door,” Amelie said.
The child looked at her.
May you like
“Okay,” Amelie continued. “No closed door.”
She led them to a small open sitting area beside the courtyard, separated only by a wide archway. It was part of the same estate, visible from the flowers and the empty aisle. Cream sofas sat beneath a mural of vines and distant hills. The doors remained open to the night air.
