A Great Reckoning (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #12)(119)

“I offered to go down, but he wanted me to be with you.”

“I’ll be fine. Baby isn’t due for a few weeks.”

He got up and hauled her off the sofa.

“You want me gone so you can finish off that box of éclairs, don’t you?”

“Actually, the pizza boy’s arriving in a few minutes. I need you gone by then. He’s very jealous.”

“Replaced by a pepperoni. My mother said it would come to that.”

“So did Gloria Steinem.”





CHAPTER 37

“Mary Poppins,” said Clara. “Oh, perfect.”

She sighed with relief as she fell into the sofa and Armand opened the armoire to reveal the television.

They’d had dinner. Shepherd’s pie made by Myrna. Fragrant crispy garlic bread brought by Clara. And a massive chocolate cake that Gabri had baked that afternoon, knowing they’d be working through dinner.

It had been rougher slogging than any of them realized. They’d been so focused on the mystery of the boys in the window, none of them had really thought about what those boxes, forgotten in the basement of the Legion, actually contained.

The remains of so many young men. The Great War had destroyed the flower of Europe and had taken with it the wildflowers of Canada. A generation of young men, gone. And all that was left of them sat forgotten in dusty old boxes in a basement.

One of the letters home contained a poppy. Pressed flat. Frail but still a vibrant red. Picked fresh one morning, just before a battle in a corner of Belgium called Flanders Fields.

The friends had given up then. Unable to go on.

Reine-Marie, Clara, Myrna, Ruth, and Gabri had put down the boxes and filed into the kitchen, where the others had prepared dinner. It was a somber meal until they noticed the young people, gobbling food as though they’d never seen it before. Huge forkfuls of shepherd’s pie disappeared into the four bottomless pits.

They all went back for more. Since the villagers’ appetites were gone, there was plenty for the cadets.

Even Ruth smiled at the sight. Though it might have been gas.

“Chocolate cake?” asked Gabri.

The magic words restored the villagers’ appetites, and they all took their tall wedges of moist cake into the living room, along with coffees.

“Mary Poppins?” asked Reine-Marie.

“Mary Poppins,” said Clara. “Oh, perfect.”

“The girls watch it every time they visit,” said Reine-Marie, handing the disk to her husband.

“Girls?” asked Huifen.

“Our granddaughters,” said Reine-Marie. “Florence and Zora.”

“Zorro?” asked Jacques, an earnest expression on his face.

But a stern look from Gamache wiped it away.

“Zora,” he corrected. “She’s named after my grandmother.”

“Not really your grandmother, though,” said Gélinas. “Wasn’t she one of the DPs after the Second World War?”

Gamache looked at him. The message, once again, was clear. Paul Gélinas had done his homework. And the home he’d worked on belonged to Gamache.

“DPs?” asked Nathaniel.

“Displaced persons,” said Myrna. “Those without a home or family. Many of them from the concentration camps. Liberated but with no place to go.”

“My father sponsored Zora to come to Canada,” Armand explained.

He knew he might as well tell them. After all, it wasn’t a secret. And it wasn’t going to remain private for long. Gélinas would see to that.

“She came to live with us,” said Gamache, turning on the receiver and the DVD. “We became her family.”

“And she became yours,” said Gélinas. “After your parents died.”

Gamache turned around and faced Gélinas. “Oui.”

“Zora,” said Reine-Marie with fondness. “The name means ‘the dawn.’ The beginning of light.”

“And she was,” said Armand. “Now, are we sure we want to watch Mary Poppins? We also have Cinderella and The Little Mermaid.”

“I’ve never seen Mary Poppins,” said Amelia. “Have you?”

The other cadets shook their heads.

“Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious?” said Myrna. “You’ve never seen Mary Poppins?”

“That’s something quite atrocious,” said Clara. “Okay, Armand. Turn it on.”

“Count me out,” said Olivier, getting up. “That nanny gives me the creeps.”

As the establishing shot of 1910 London appeared, Olivier disappeared into the kitchen. A few minutes later, Armand arrived to make more coffee. He found Olivier in one of the armchairs by the fireplace. The small television was on and he wore headphones.

“What’re you watching?”

Olivier almost leapt out of his skin.

He shoved the headphones off his ears. “Jeez, Armand. You almost killed me.”

“Sorry. What’s on?”

He stood behind Olivier’s chair and watched a very young Robert De Niro and Christopher Walken in a bar.

“The Deer Hunter.”

“You’re kidding,” said Armand. “Mary Poppins scares you, but The Deer Hunter is okay?”