The Paris Architect: A Novel

With great difficulty, the old man took a deep breath, and in a low, almost inaudible voice, said, “Rue de Tournon, at Gattier’s, the wine merchant.”


“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” said Schlegal. He tossed the box on his desk. He nodded to Bruckner, who immediately left the room.

“My goodness, what time is it? Lunchtime already?” asked Schlegal, glancing at his wristwatch. “I’m starving. Gentlemen, will you join me for lunch at the Café Daunou?”

His officers exchanged smiles and picked up their gloves and caps. They knew their boss was in a good mood and would be paying. As the three Germans made for the door, Schlegal stopped and reached over for the box on the desk, turning the lever all the way to the right. “I hope you’ll excuse us, Monsieur Deligny,” he said in a very solicitous tone. “We’ll be back in an hour or two to continue our conversation.”

The screaming could still be heard as they reached the street four flights below.





14





“I fixed you a real cup of tea.”

Celeste was surprised to see Lucien in the kitchen first thing in the morning. He proudly handed Celeste a cup with a saucer. She remembered her husband telling her that on a trip to England, he’d found out that you never just give someone a cup of tea; it always has to be on a saucer. She smiled at the gesture.

“Real tea?” said Celeste. “Not brewed from catnip leaves?”

“Taste it.”

“Good God. It is real tea,” she said, holding the first sip in her mouth, relishing the taste. In wartime, Celeste had learned how to be thankful for the smallest pleasures in life. The finest champagne wouldn’t have tasted better.

For some time now, Lucien had been bringing home hard-to-get food like cheese, butter, and coffee. She knew it was from the black market but didn’t ask any questions. The other thing she learned during the Occupation was that law-abiding citizens now turned a blind eye to the breaking of the law. She could see that Lucien was very proud to provide these things.

“Thank you, it’s delicious.”

“Now, I must be off. Lots of work to be done at the office,” said Lucien cheerfully. He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the stainless steel kitchen chair. “What’s on your schedule today?”

“Nothing much. I heard there’s toilet paper at a shop on rue de Bretagne. I’ll try my luck.” Shopping during the Occupation meant women standing in long lines to try to buy the bare essentials.

“If they run out, I’ll see if I can get my hands on some. See you tonight.”

Celeste sipped her tea and stared at the gleaming white porcelain and stainless steel kitchen cabinets. Though she would’ve preferred wood cupboards, at least these were easy to clean. She placed her cup in the sink and went to the vestibule to get her hat, black felt with a pointy Robin Hood brim and white feather. She was glad she and Lucien had the same taste in women’s fashion.