“Kate, go find Charlotte and the others,” Vincent said softly, “but once you’re told you can go, don’t leave without coming back to see me. Please.”
Gaspard walked me to the open door. “They’re in the kitchen,” he said, indicating the far end of the corridor. Then, leaving me in the hallway, he closed the door behind him.
I followed the delicious smell of fresh bread toward the kitchen, but hesitated in front of the swinging door. Taking a nervous breath, I pushed it open and stepped inside. The whole crew was sitting around a huge oak table. As one, they looked up and waited for me to do something.
Ambrose broke the ice. “Enter, human!” he said in a Star Trek voice, muffled slightly by a full mouth.
Charlotte and Charles laughed, and Jules waved me over to an empty chair next to him. “So you survived the wrath of Jean-Baptiste,” he said. “Very brave.”
“Very stupid for coming here,” Charles added, not looking up from his plate.
“Charles!” Charlotte scolded.
“Well, it was!” Charles said defensively.
“What would you like, dear?” interrupted a motherly voice from above my shoulder.
I turned to see a plump middle-aged woman wearing an apron. She had soft rosy cheeks, and her graying blond hair was tied up in a bun.
“Jeanne?” I asked.
“Yes, dear Kate,” she answered. “That’s me. I’ve been hearing all about your eventful evening from the others. I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet you before, but unlike the rest here, I need a good night’s sleep.”
“Then you’re not . . .” I hesitated.
“No, she’s not one of us,” Jules responded. “But Jeanne’s family has been in the service of Jean-Baptiste for . . .”
“Over two hundred years,” Jeanne said, finishing his sentence as she shoveled a mountain of scrambled eggs onto Ambrose’s plate. He gave her a ravishing smile, and said, “Marry me, Jeanne,” leaning over to kiss the hand holding the serving spoon. “In your dreams,” she laughed, and tapped him playfully on the hand with the spoon.
Putting a fist on her hip, she looked up at the ceiling as if trying to remember a poem she had memorized. “My great-great-great-grandfather (plus a few) was Monsieur Grimod de La Reynière’s valet, and went to war with him when he fought under Napoleon. It was that ancestor, only fifteen at the time, whom Monsieur Grimod saved, pushing him from the path of a cannonball that took his own life. It’s a good thing the boy was determined to bring Monsieur’s body back from Russia for burial, because he was there three days later when Monsieur woke up and was able to care for him. And my family’s been with Monsieur ever since.”
She recounted this incredible story like she would describe her trip to the market that morning. It must seem natural to her, having been raised by a mother and grandmother who told her the same story. But I felt overwhelmed as my mind tried to twist its way around the repercussions.
“Thanks, Jeanne. Kate looked almost normal again until you started talking,” Jules said.
“I’m fine,” I responded, smiling at her. “I’ll just have some bread and coffee, thank you.”
Jeanne pushed a coffee capsule into a high-tech coffee machine and turned it on before bustling over to the oven and taking a tray of croissants out.
“I’m off,” Charles said, pushing his chair under the table, and after coolly bumping fists with Jules and Ambrose, he marched out of the kitchen without a second glance at me.
I looked at the others. “Was it something I said?”
“Kate,” Ambrose said, chuckling, “you’ve got to remember—even though Charles’s body should be eighty-two, his maturity level is stuck at fifteen.”
“I’ll go with him,” Charlotte chirped, seemingly embarrassed by her twin’s rudeness. “Bye, Kate.” She leaned over to kiss me on both cheeks. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing you soon.”
“So what happens now?” I asked as the door closed behind her. I felt oddly torn between the urge to go back to my grandparents’ house and see my real, living, breathing family and the desire to stay here, among these people who, after just a few hours of knowing me, already seemed to accept me. Or at least most of them did. Never mind that they weren’t human.
Before anyone could answer, Gaspard stuck his porcupine hair through the door. “You can go, Kate. But Vincent asked to see you on your way out.” He disappeared back into the passageway.
As I rose to my feet, Jules stood and said, “Do you want me to walk you home?”
Ambrose nodded, and with a full mouth said, “Walk her home.”
“No, that’s okay, I can get home on my own.”
“I’ll walk you to the door, then,” Jules said, pushing his chair under the table.
“Good-bye, Jeanne. Thanks for the breakfast. Bye, Ambrose,” I called as Jules politely opened the door for me to pass through first, and walked with me down the long hallway to Vincent’s door. I went in and he closed the door behind me, waiting in the hallway.