The combination of smells inside was even better, notwithstanding the usual fug of cigarette smoke: steamed seafood, fried potatoes, roasted meat. It was probably just the way it smelled in 1600, Gideon thought with pleasure, except, of course, for the tobacco, which wouldn't have arrived from North America for another few decades. It was about half-full, and at a table near the back were Ray and Claire, with Sophie and Ben Butts.
'Come join us!” Ben shouted as soon as they walked in.
They threaded their way between the tables. “I don't know; you look pretty crowded already,” Gideon said with a smile.
'Oh, no, please, we can easily make room,” Ray said, looking glad to see them, and Claire murmured something similar.
'Sure,” Ben said. “Unless you're rubbin’ elbows, eatin's just stokin'.'
'And who said that?” Sophie asked.
'I believe it was my cousin Bobby Will.'
'I thought your cousin was Billy Rob.'
Ben looked thoughtfully at her. “No, Billy Rob's my uncle on my mother's side; married to Clara Bea. Bobby Will's my cousin on my father's side—Willie Bob's boy.'
Amid general laughter, a couple of chairs were taken from nearby tables and Gideon and John squeezed in. No one had ordered food yet, but they were almost through a bottle of white wine, and a new bottle with two more glasses was brought.
Gideon lifted his glass in a salute. “So,” he said, “what brings you to Mont St. Michel?'
He felt at ease with these four. Of all the people at Rochebonne they were the ones he trusted most: Ray, sweet-tempered and earnest, and altogether above suspicion; gentle Claire Fougeray, thin and pallid, but with a ruddy heat in her cheeks that he guessed was due less to the wine than to Ray's proximity; Sophie Butts, frank and solid; Ben, with his easy way of meandering between homespun adages and lawyerly good sense. If one of them turned out to be a murderer, he was going to be awfully annoyed. And surprised.
It was Ben who answered. “We came down to pick up Guillaume's car and take it back. Seemed like a good excuse for us all to get out of the house for a while, take a train ride, see the Mont before we left.” Smiling, he raised his glass to toast the others.
'Are you taking off?” John asked. “I thought Joly wanted you to stay.'
'Can't,” Ben said. “There are big things on the menu at Southwest Electroplating. Two-million-dollar comparable-worth suit coming up. Anyway, Joly told us from the start we could go after tomorrow. He knows where to find us if he needs us.'
'Ben and I are catching a ten o'clock flight from Paris tomorrow night,” Sophie said. “These two will be leaving the next morning, by train from Dinan.'
Gideon looked with interest at Ray and Claire. “You're going together?'
'They certainly are,” Sophie said happily.
'Oh,” said Ray, and cleared his throat. “Well.'
'Raymond is being kind enough to accompany
'Well, you know, I don't have to be back at Northern Cal until next week,” Ray said, “so I thought...you know.” He tugged at the ends of his bowtie and shone with inarticulate happiness.
Sophie took a healthy swallow of wine and put down her glass. “I don't know about anyone else, but I could eat a horse. Claire, dear, why don't you order for us? Is that all right with everyone?'
That was fine with everyone, and Claire, who seemed in her retiring way to be pleased with a role in the limelight, consulted at length with the waiter before settling on a three-course meal of traditional Norman cuisine. By the time the ordering was done, most of the new bottle of wine had been drunk and the level of conviviality was high. There was a blaze in the fireplace, and outside a passing rain had left the cobblestones of the Grand Rue gleaming, making it easy for Gideon to enjoy the pleasant illusion of being a sixteenth-century traveler, warmly ensconced in a fine inn among companionable comrades.
'I tell you, kids,” Ben said, playfully addressing Ray and Claire, “if you're not going to ask him, I will.'
'Oh, Uncle,” Claire murmured with her eyes down, then turned a little rosier. Blushing looked good on her, Gideon decided.
'All right, then, I will,” Ben declared. “We have a technical question for you, Professor. Genetically speaking, just how closely related are these kids? The reason they want to know—'
'Ben,” Sophie said, “I think Gideon can figure out why they want to know.'
'I could make a pretty good guess,” Gideon said. “What are you two anyway, cousins?'
'It's precisely that which we can't determine,” Ray said with donnish perplexity. “We know we're not first cousins at any rate, but after that it gets extraordinarily confusing.'
'I'll tell you what,” Gideon said. “Why don't you draw up a family tree for a few generations, showing who begat who—'
'Whom,” murmured Ray automatically, then winced. “Sorry, force of habit.'
'—and I'll try and work out the genetic relationships from that.'
This was well received, and they set to reconstructing the du Rocher genealogy, with Ben drawing it step-by- step on the back of a paper placemat. In the meantime, the first course arrived:
