“I want you to know he was like that when I hired him, Calliope. Very rough around the edges—and damaged. Physically, mentally, and emotionally.”
“Then why did you hire him?” I asked.
“Because of your mother.” Odilon cast his gaze to his lap. “My father can be a cruel and unforgiving man. Your mother’s best friend was one of the few—if not the last—Melusine known to be left in France. Her name was Agnès. She spurned my father’s amorous advances. He retaliated by banishing her from the land.” He sighed and continued. “It was your mother’s friendship, and her proximity to water, that gave Agnès the strength to imagine she could establish a new home in Maine.”
“Agnès was pregnant,” I guessed.
“Yes.”
“And do you know by whom?”
“I have my suspicions. But I have no proof. That will come when we see if any of the ova are viable after so long in stasis.”
“Does this mean you will turn the aquarium and its contents over to me?” My heart thundered in my chest as the long-term implications of this discussion began to sink in. Odilon nodded, his expression grave. I wished Thatcher had stayed and could assess the veracity of the scion’s words and actions.
“You and I would make a formidable couple, Calliope Viridis du Sang.”
“You have my gratitude,” I said, ignoring his offer and coming to my feet, “pending forgiveness of these notes, your promise there will be no retaliatory measures taken against these farmers, and safe delivery of the Melusine. I am confident you will deal with Roger and with Hosea. And I think Brooks Family Farm and the adjacent property Adelaide sought to purchase will be delighted to know you’re their new owner.”
Odilon smirked. “I doubt that,” he said, “but I will accept the modicum of joy that will come with those acquisitions.” He grasped the door handle. “You will have the Melusine ova as soon as you are ready to receive them, and you have my promise that no harm will come to them in the interim.”
I walked down the hall, waved to the cluster of teenagers seated in the waiting area, and paused at the bottom of the wide stairs. I didn’t trust my arms had strength enough to open the heavy glass and metal door.
Wolf yelped when he saw us and lathered my face with his tongue. “I’ll tell you all about it when we get home,” I promised. “Right now, I need a drink.” He yelped again, then settled in the back of the truck. I asked Sallie to drive. On the way home, we picked up the platter of sushi Azura had the forethought to order and stopped at the liquor store for bottles of chilled champagne and sparkling apple cider.
James and Malvyn met us at the front door with the news that Kaz and Wes had spent the day with Christoph and would stay at Belle’s another night. Rowan had left a message that she planned to join Belle once she finished with patients.
“I really want to see you, Calli,” her voicemail continued, “but Wes let me know he’s leaving on Monday for his next three-month commitment. I think you know the project he’s talking about, the one about the secret place. Anyway, he and I have lots to talk about. Cross your fingers we can figure out this long-distance relationship stuff. I’ll see you soon. Promise.”
Chapter 23
After dinner, exhausted to the marrow in my bones, I couldn’t sleep. I had to do something to keep my hands busy.
“Can you bring in the basket of crabapples we picked?” I asked Tanner. “I left them on the back deck.”
He did and poured them into the sink full of water I had run while waiting for him to say goodbye to Mal and James. “Anything else you need?”
“You could help me wash these. If you don’t have anything better to do.”
“If scrubbing crabapples means I can hang out with you, it’d be my pleasure.”
We worked side by side at the sink in companionable silence. Tanner washed and towel-dried the apples while I twisted off the stems and quartered each piece of fruit. After, I pulled my twenty-quart stock pot out of the closet, rinsed it, added the chopped apples, and filled the pot with enough water to cover the fruit.
“How long will this take?” Tanner asked, stifling a yawn.
I glanced at the pot, the kitchen clock, then back at him and laughed. “All night?”
“Do you want me to stay up with you?”
“You can go to bed and be useful in the morning. This won’t really take all night. I have to bring the water to a boil, let the apples simmer for about thirty minutes, then pour the pulp into jelly bags and let them drain overnight.
“It’s labor intensive but my aunt did this every year and since I moved back into House, I’ve made the effort to, as well. Kind of a sentimental gesture.” I shrugged. “You seemed to like it on your toast.”
“I sure did and I look forward to more.” Tanner kissed my forehead. “I’ll warm up the bed. Come get me if you decide you want the company. You’ve had a big day.”
I corrected him. “A very big couple of days.”
I tied cheesecloth bags of apple pulp to the handles of wooden spoons and hung them over two big pots set on the kitchen counter. The constant stream of juice soon slowed to drips as I put dishes back into cupboards and washed what was left in the sink from earlier meals. After tossing my apron into the laundry closet, I scooped my customary spoonful of the sour, soupy mash and shuddered as I swallowed it down.
I followed that with two more spoonfuls and a leftover cookie and still I wasn’t ready for bed. I picked up the leather Mary Janes. The bottoms needed to be resoled. I wiggled my feet into my faithful Blundstones, tugged my
