Love Is Pink!

“Two hours?” I puffed up my cheeks. “Puh.” But then I had an idea.

“OK, Emma and I will drive around the city for a bit, then we’ll pick you up at . . .” I looked at my Cartier. “At four o’clock on the dot.”

David gave it a moment’s thought. “Fine,” he said, handing me our last twenty euros. I tried to protest, but he cut me off. “It’s OK, Michelle. Those twenty euros wouldn’t get us home anyway. And you two have richly earned it.”

He got out, and I took his place at the wheel. In the rearview mirror, I noticed him looking back at us before crossing to the other side of the heavily trafficked street.





22


Where do we want to go?” Emma asked.

I put on the blinker and followed the traffic. “We all need some exercise—especially Baby—so I thought we’d look around. Perhaps we can find something like a Christmas market.”

“Oh, yay! A Christmas market!”

I smiled at her over my shoulder. “We’d all like that. Even Baby, I bet. But first, I need to take care of something.”

“You have urgent business like Papa?”

“Not like Papa. But certainly just as urgent.”

Nancy was a large and beautiful city; I’d never been there before. We tooled around cheerfully, and I got my bearings with help of the signs, which pointed me toward the centre ville.

Finally, I discovered what I was looking for. A small, inconspicuous store with a discreet sign: “Prêt Sur Gage Pawnshop Leihhaus.”

On the other side of the street, there was an unoccupied parking space. I pulled in, right in front of a fancy Mercedes SLK with a German license plate. This time our Citro?n produced the obligatory whistling sound and explosion, as well as a black cloud of smoke. Since the car always delivered us to our destination, it didn’t matter to me anymore.

“Baby needs to wait in the car,” I told Emma. “You should come with me. It won’t take long.”

When we got out, Emma ran around the car and grabbed my hand. The first few times she’d done that, it had bothered me a little. It felt as though I was tethered. Strangely, though, I’d come to like it a lot, and if she didn’t come to me on her own, sometimes I’d be the one to grab her hand. If I couldn’t feel her tiny fingers, it felt like something was missing.

A couple roughly my age neared us on the sidewalk. Both were dressed elegantly, their hair freshly styled. They were young and free. The enviable woman could have been me, walking with a good-looking, obviously wealthy man.

Yet here I was instead with my junker and a nice, but extremely annoying, little girl. And the only cash I had totaled twenty euros.

“Your trunk is open a crack,” the man said to me in impeccable German.

Naturally, he’s the owner of the SLK, I thought. This scene could not be topped for its embarrassment. But then, to cap it all off, Baby started barking like crazy, causing the Citro?n to shake.

“The trunk is open?” I repeated loudly to drown out Baby’s barking. “Not a big deal—it happens constantly. The lock doesn’t close anymore.”

The young woman looked at me compassionately. “Well, the car isn’t exactly new.”

“But it’s very reliable,” I countered. “It may not look like much, but”—I knocked on the pink tin fender—“it’s still kicking.”

The couple replied with a polite smile.

I pushed down the cover of the trunk resolutely and waved good-bye to the two lucky kids, who’d just climbed into their sparkling clean and shiny Mercedes. Then Emma and I marched across the street to the pawnshop.





23


The door opened with a chime and revealed a veritable smorgasbord: clocks, statues, appliances, paintings, rugs, and sparkling jewelry in a glass showcase.

I conjured up my most engaging smile for the woman behind the counter. “Bonjour,” I said. “Y-a-t-il quelqu’un ici qui parle allemand?”

The woman smiled, but her eyes remained cold.

Great, I thought. Mrs. Money Shark in person.

“My husband is from Saarbrücken,” she said in German with a thick accent.

I lifted my arm and opened the latch of my Cartier watch. Valentin had given it to me for our one-year anniversary. He’d even told me its price—something he did every time he gave me a present. That was one of his quirks, and I’d quickly become fond of the habit. The watch was the most valuable thing I was wearing. In many respects.

I took it off and placed it on the counter for effect.

She didn’t even look at it. “What should I do with that?” she asked.

“A genuine Cartier,” I said. “It cost 16,795 euros.”

“That’s clear to me.”

“I’d like to pawn it now.”

“Otherwise you wouldn’t be here,” she said snippily.

“Fine.” I exhaled. “What are you able to give me for it?”

“For that watch?” She smiled widely now. “Absolutely nothing. Such an expensive item screams theft, stolen goods, and police. Or do you happen to have a purchase receipt on you?”

I shook my head.