part0049

“I knew it was you as soon as they revealed there was a woman injured at the scene! I just prayed you were alive. What is that on your forehead? Now, look, you are all over the television.” Aunt Neet pointed to the screen where old interviews of Havilah and still pictures were running in split screens.

Havilah submitted to her inspection, not bothering to protest that she was all right. She was dreading the next few days, in which la belle Américaine would be accosted at every turn. At that moment, she was glad that Hervé Simone had confiscated her cellphone and the hotel rooms were in Thierry’s name.

“I really wished you’d come home, darling. Murder seems to follow you everywhere in Europe,” her aunt tsked as she adjusted her robe. “They won’t say on the television. But did Thierry catch the bad guys? Especially that incorrigible Rachid Dib they keep mentioning?”

“There were bad guys all around, Aunt Neet. He didn’t catch the one bad guy that everyone is looking for.” Havilah dipped her head towards the television that her aunt had obviously been fixated on. “Though as bad guys go, he killed one who wanted me dead and helped Thierry kill another who tracked me here in Venice. The Italian police said he boarded the last flight out of Venice to Istanbul. He called me.”

Aunt Neet looked at Havilah like she had three heads. “How does this fool know you?”

“Back in Paris. It is too complicated to explain. But let’s just say we met. Anyway, he called from the Ataturk International airport. He’s headed to Syria. Inevitably, I’ll be complicit in making him a hero in the minds of those who are just as twisted as he is. Just talking about him and this Islamic Liberation Front he just made up will make his stock go up. Anyway, besides fretting about me, did you at least have dinner?”

“Claire and I had dinner.”

Havilah looked shocked. “Really?”

“Yes. After I finished lecturing her about running after a man who wasn’t paying her any mind, we got on splendidly. I told her she had that Fatal Attraction vibe going on— stalking him and dropping by his apartment uninvited. Poor thing thought he would see how much she really wanted him. She didn’t want to give him up. I told her that all that crazy would make any man run for the hills. Once she had a few of those Bellinis in her, she opened right up about how she had copied a set of Thierry’s keys he’d given her when they broke up and then browbeat that sawed-off judge back in Paris to do some dirty work for her. He’s how she found out where we were going when we left Paris. He’s a cheating ass Napoleonic bastard. Who would have thought a man so little could be running women like that?” Her aunt was now shaking her head like, what has the world come to?

“Are you kidding me? Does Thierry know?” Havilah’s mouth was slightly agape.

“Close your mouth, baby. Which part? That she copied his keys? Probably not. And Simone? I think not. At least, if I were shorty perpendicular I wouldn’t really want Thierry to know. She and I concluded the evening by having a nice dinner at that Michelin-starred restaurant Oro, courtesy of some flirtatious Italian gentlemen. You’ve got to love Europe for that. I’m going to have to come to the continent more often. Oh, before I forget.” Her aunt pointed to a bag on a cream chair with gold stitching.

“What’s this?”

“A little daywear for tomorrow I picked up from one of the shops here at the hotel. Since they had the hotel and its guests on emergency lockdown, there was nothing else to do but eat and shop.”

Havilah wanted to ask the burning question, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Instead she opted to rifle through the bag only to discover a lovely blush-colored sheath dress and taupe leather flats.

“She’s a nice girl, actually. Once you cut through all those tight clothes and that sass,” her aunt continued absently. “Don’t you want to know why he left her?”

“It’s not my business.” Havilah tried on the shoes. Comfortable. She loved Italian leather.

“My sweet niece, who I love like a daughter, you and I both know it is absolutely your business. I helped raise you better than that. Don’t play coy with me. I’m not Thierry or Lucian.”

“Okay. Okay.” She felt herself giggling. “Do tell.” Havilah unwrapped her dress and stepped into the sheath.

“She doesn’t want children!” her aunt yelped. “I nearly spilled my drink on myself when she said that. All I could think about was you and Lucian. She’s an award-winning journalist. I admire a woman who can make that decision for herself. I wanted children. I couldn’t have them while married. I have you now. And you want children. But we don’t all have to want children.”

“No, we don’t. Just like we don’t all have to want marriage. Still, I wonder why Thierry wasn’t more understanding, if he loved her.”

“Havilah, please. Sanctimoniousness in the guise of feminist solidarity does not become you. Why weren’t you more understanding when Lucian said he didn’t want a family?”