Laure interrupted him.
“There’ll be plenty of time for that,” she said, almost harshly. “I’m not so old, am I?”
I shook my head.
“Of course not.”
“And of course, at that time there was the added expense of looking after Papa to think about. He had hardly anything left, Mamie,” said Yannick, biting into one of my sablés. “All he had came from us. Even his house.”
I could believe it. Cassis was never one to hoard wealth. He slid it through his fingers in smoke, or more often into his belly. Cassis was always his own best customer in the Paris days.
“Of course we wouldn’t think of begrudging him that.” Laure’s voice was soft. “We were very fond of poor Papa, weren’t we, chéri?”
Yannick nodded with more enthusiasm than sincerity.
“Oh, yes. Very fond. And of course… such a generous man. Never felt any resentment at all about… this house, or the inheritance, or anything. Extraordinary.”
He glanced at me then, a sharp ratty slice of a look.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I was up at once, almost spilling my coffee, still very conscious of Pistache sitting next to me, listening. I had never told my daughters about Reinette or Cassis. They never met. As far as they knew I was an only child. And I had never spoken a word about my mother.
Yannick looked sheepish.
“Well, Mamie, you know he was really supposed to inherit the house-”
“Not that we blame you-”
“But he was the eldest, and under your mother’s will-”
“Now wait a minute!” I tried to keep the shrillness from my voice but for a moment I sounded just like my mother, and I saw Pistache wince. “I paid Cassis good money for this house,” I said in a lower tone. “It was only a shell after the fire, anyway, all burnt out with the rafters poking through the slates. He could never have lived in it, wouldn’t have wanted to either. I paid good money, more than I could afford, and-”
“Shh. It’s all right.” Laure glared at her husband. “No one’s suggesting your agreement was in any way improper.”
Improper.
That’s a Laure word all right, plummy, self-satisfied and with just the right amount of skepticism. I could feel my hand tightening around the rim of my coffee cup, printing bright little points of burn on my fingertips.
“But you have to see it from our point of view.” That was Yannick, his broad face gleaming. “Our grandmother’s legacy…”
I didn’t like the way the conversation was heading. I especially hated Pistache’s presence, her round eyes taking everything in.
“You never even knew my mother, any of you,” I interrupted harshly.
“That’s not the point, Mamie,” said Yannick quickly. “The point is that there were three of you. And the legacy was divided into three. That’s right, isn’t it?”
I nodded cautiously.
“But now since poor Papa has passed away, we have to ask ourselves whether the informal arrangement you two made between you is entirely fair to the remaining members of the family.”
His tone was casual, but I could see the gleam in his eyes, and I shouted out, suddenly furious.
“What ”informal arrangement‘? I told you, I paid good money – I signed papers…“
Laure put her hand on my arm.
“Yannick didn’t mean to upset you, Mamie.”
“No one’s upset me,” I said stonily.
Yannick ignored that and continued:
“It’s just that some people might think that an agreement such as you made with poor Papa – a sick man desperate for cash – ”
I could see Laure was watching Pistache, and cursed under my breath.
