The Last of the Stanfields(21)

“Has something happened to Dad?” asked Michel in a calm, measured tone.

I quickly assured him Dad was fine. Michel sipped his tea and turned to Maggie. “Are you here to announce you’re marrying Fred?”

“Come on! Just because we’ve stopped by to see you doesn’t mean there’s some kind of major drama afoot,” she said.

Michel pondered this for a moment, then cracked an exaggerated smile to let us know he liked her choice of words.

“I figured, for once I get to stay in London for more than two seconds,” I added. “So, why not come see my brother? And I invited Maggie to come along, too.”

“So, Michel,” asked Maggie, cutting straight to it. “Did Mum happen to tell you a secret, one just for you?”

“That’s a peculiar question. I haven’t spoken to her in ages, and neither have you.”

“I meant . . . you know, before.”

“Let’s say that she did,” he said, nodding his head. “Then I wouldn’t be able to tell you about it. A logical point, wouldn’t you say?”

“I’m not asking you what she said, just if she told you a secret.”

“No,” Michel confirmed sternly.

“See?” said Maggie, throwing a smug look my way.

“She didn’t tell me a secret; she told me many,” Michel clarified. Maggie and I looked at each other. “Am I allowed to have another scone?” he asked, and Maggie slid the plate over.

“Why would she tell you and not us?”

“Because she knew I wouldn’t say anything.”

“Even to your sisters?”

“Most of all to my sisters. When the two of you fight, you’ll say any thought that comes into your head, even things that aren’t true. While you both have many virtues, of course, knowing how to control what you say when you’re angry is not one of them.” Michel seemed pleased with his well-reasoned point.

I placed a soft hand on Michel’s forearm and looked deep into his eyes with nothing but tenderness and love.

“You know that we miss her just as much as you do.”

“Considering there’s no specific metric to prove such a thing, would it be safe to assume that’s just a manner of speaking?”

“No, Michel,” I continued. “I mean what I’m saying. She was our mother as much as she was yours.”

“Indeed.”

“If you know something that we don’t, it’s not exactly fair to keep it to yourself, do you see what we mean?” Maggie pleaded.

Michel looked my way, unsure. I nodded to tell him it was okay to talk, but all he did was dip another scone into his tea and devour it in two huge bites.

“What did she tell you?” I insisted.

“Nothing, she didn’t tell me anything.”

“Then what’s the secret, Michel?”

“I meant to say, the secret . . . wasn’t anything she said, per se.”

“Then what was it?”

“I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you.”

“Michel, I don’t think Mum knew that she would be gone so soon, and so unexpectedly. I’m sure she would have wanted us to share everything with each other.”

“Possibly. But I’d have to find some way of verifying that with her.”

“Right, except you can’t. So, you’re just going to have to rely on your judgment, and your judgment only.”

After downing the rest of his tea in one gulp, Michel put his cup back in the saucer with a trembling hand, shaking his head, his eyes lost and frantic—all signs of an impending attack. I stroked his neck and spoke soothingly and deliberately, hoping to calm my twin brother down.

“You don’t have to say anything now. I’m sure Mum would have wanted you to think things through. After all, that’s why she entrusted her secret to you. Do you want another scone, love?”

“I don’t think that would be reasonable. But perhaps. To mark the occasion of all three of us being together.”

“Right when I had decided not to get up again,” Maggie muttered before making a round-trip to the counter. She set one last scone down in front of Michel and returned to her seat.

“Let’s change the subject, huh?” said Maggie, her voice gentle. “How about you tell us about your life at work?”

“It’s quite similar to my life at home.”

“Sure, sure. But not everything, right?”

“How about your manager?” I asked innocently. “You two seem . . . close.”

Michel looked up in doubt. “Just to verify . . . ‘close’ is a manner of speaking, I suppose.”

“Indeed, or call it an observation.”

“Yes, we are quite often ‘close,’ in terms of proximity, which is to be expected since speaking in anything above a whisper is strictly prohibited at the library.”

“So I noticed.”

“In that case, you should understand why we are often close.”

“She seems to really enjoy your company.” I could feel Maggie glaring at me for raising the subject. “Don’t look at me like that, Maggie. I’m allowed to talk to my brother without having you judge my every word.”