The Winemaker's Wife(100)

She was still smiling when she emerged from her room, but then she realized that Grandma Edith’s door was open, and the suite was empty. She looked at her watch. It wasn’t even seven in the morning yet. There was suddenly a knot in the pit of Liv’s stomach. Where had Grandma Edith gone so early?

Then Liv’s eyes landed on the coffee table in the middle of the room. On it sat two envelopes, one addressed to her, the other addressed to Julien, both in her grandmother’s signature hand. She crossed the room quickly and tore open her note.

Dearest Olivia,

There are many things to say, but the truth is, I have never been as strong as I’ve wanted to be. I brought you here to tell you everything, to try to make things right in some small way, but it seems I lack the courage. Perhaps this, more than anything, is what defines my life.

Please summon Julien, and he will tell you the things that I cannot. The other note on the table is addressed to him; it gives him permission to break my confidence.

It is time you know who you are. I’m sorry I have failed you. But somehow, my Olivia, you summoned strength on your own, and I know now that whatever comes, you will find your happiness. Never forget how much I love you, even if I did not deserve to know you at all. Being your Grandma Edith has been one of the greatest gifts of my life.

All my love forever. xx

Liv reread the note, her hands shaking, and then she hurried back to her room to grab her phone. She dialed Julien.

“Liv.” His voice was deep and warm when he answered. “Good morning.”

“My grandmother’s gone,” she blurted out without returning his greeting. “She left a note.”

“What? What did it say?”

“It sounded really final, Julien. She left one for you, too.”

He cursed under his breath. “I’ll be right over. Open my note in the meantime.”

Liv hung up and slipped her finger under the flap of the envelope addressed to Julien. Inside, Grandma Edith had written:

Please tell Liv everything. It is time. Thank you for guarding my secrets for so long. You’re a good man.

By the time Julien arrived fifteen minutes later, his dark hair a mess, his linen shirt wrinkled, Liv was pacing the hotel suite. She thrust both letters at him, and he read through them quickly, his lips moving with the words. When he was done, he looked up at Liv, the concern on his face mirroring hers. “What was the last thing she said to you? Did you see her this morning?”

Liv shook her head. “She was gone before I got up. But last night, she was saying all sorts of weird things—that my dad was actually the son of Michel Chauveau, who owned the Maison Chauveau, and that she was not actually my father’s mother. It made no sense, and when I tried to get her to explain, she shut down. I thought she was just being dramatic, but now—” Liv pointed to the letters Julien was holding. “Now I’m really worried. Julien, it almost sounds like she’s saying goodbye, doesn’t it?”

“Okay.” He set the letters down and pulled his phone from his pocket. “I am just going to call a friend of mine with the local police department. Don’t worry, d’accord?”

Liv waited while Julien placed a call, explaining in rapid French that Edith Thierry wasn’t exactly a missing person but that he was worried about her safety. He hung up and turned to Liv. “He will have the other officers keep an eye out. We will find her, Liv.”

“We should go look, too,” Liv said. She couldn’t fight the feeling that something terrible had happened.

“We’ll take my car.”

As they left the hotel room, Julien squeezed Liv’s hand, and he didn’t let go. “Thank you,” she said as they hurried down the stairs together.

In the car a few minutes later, Julien drove while Liv scanned the sidewalks for her grandmother. It was early, and the streets were quiet, so the old woman should have been easy to pick out. But there was no sign of her. In silence, Julien circled the block and then pulled to a stop in front of the Brasserie Moulin, which appeared to be closed. “Do you want to make sure she’s not there?” he asked. “Just in case?”

Liv nodded and jumped out of the car. She raced to the door, but it was locked. She put her face to the glass and peered in, but the restaurant was empty. Back in the car, she turned to Julien. “Do you think there’s any chance she called a taxi and went to the Maison Chauveau? She seemed so emotional about it yesterday.”

“I was thinking the same thing. Yes, let’s check.” He merged back into traffic. “While you were looking in the brasserie, I called my grandfather and left a message. Maybe he’ll have an idea of where to find her.”

“Thank you.” She was silent as she gazed out at the buildings of Reims blurring past the car. “Julien? What secrets did my grandmother want you to reveal?”

He didn’t answer right away, but she could see his hands tighten on the steering wheel, his jaw flex. “I really do feel like it’s a story that you should hear from her, Liv.”

“But she’s not here. And she asked you to tell me.”

“I know.” He sighed. “All right, where shall I begin? Well, to start, she is not really Edith Thierry. That is an identity she took on after the war, a name that once belonged to someone else.”

Liv stared at him. “The wife of the owner of the Brasserie Moulin.”