Patty shrugged. “I was going to thank you anyway. He mentioned the dog was driving you nuts, and it sped up my plan.”
“Look,” Markie started, preparing to send Patty home with orders to inform Bruce to butt out. But then she recalled how vehemently she had opposed his suggestion that Patty become Angel’s regular dog walker. I can’t afford to pay her, and I won’t let her do it for free. Maybe being indebted to someone made Patty’s skin crawl, too.
“You know,” Markie said, “yes. Thank you. That would be great.”
Markie worked for two solid hours in pure, blissful silence, and when Patty returned, Angel walked straight into her crate and fell asleep.
“This is the best gift I’ve gotten in ages!” Markie whispered, afraid to wake the dog. “But I feel bad. You were gone so long! What about your own job?”
“Mrs. S won’t be home till close to dinnertime,” Patty said. “I only came over today to keep an eye on Bruce and Ronda. But I left them a list before I took Angel, and I’m pretty sure they’ll have gotten it all done. Or most of it.” She seemed to consider this. “Some of it. I’ll go back now and check.”
“I’ve never seen her so wiped out,” Markie said, pointing to the now-snoring dog.
“I’m faster than Jesse,” Patty said. “And a whole lot faster than him and Lola, even when she’s on that scooter. Angel could go all day at their pace. It’s the real quick walking that does her in.”
“It sure did today,” Markie said.
“You know, I could walk her every day.”
Markie shook her head. “Absolutely not. Today was great, and thank you. But we’re all settled up now. One night with Lola, one long walk for Angel. If you took her another time, it would be too much.”
Patty cocked her head. “I didn’t offer to take her because I thought I had to repay you for Lola.”
“Oh,” Markie said, reddening. “I just assumed. I mean, I didn’t think you needed to repay me, either. It’s just that some people are funny about owing others. Like me. I’m funny about that stuff. I can’t afford to pay you, and I can’t let you do it for nothing, and there’s nothing more I can really do for you in exchange, so . . .” She shrugged. “It’s a great offer, though, and thanks, but I just can’t.”
Patty squinted as though Markie had grown antennae. “I don’t really get it, but it’s cool.”
Jesse came home later, looking ashen.
“What?” Markie asked. She thought about Mrs. Saint and her heart condition. He had heard something? “Is it Mrs. Saint?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Oh my God! Did Frédéric call you? What happened? Should we go over there now?”
“What?” Jesse asked. “No. Nobody called me. What are you talking about?”
“Her heart. What are you talking about?”
“I saw Bruce when I dropped Lola off, and he told me about last night. He said Frédéric thought some of the things from her case might be behind the garage, but no one’s had time to look. So I did, and he was right. I feel terrible. I mean, her most valuable possessions, and they just tossed them? She’s, like, eighty years old or whatever! All she’s ever done is be nice to people! And then some jerks go and do this to her?” His voice shook, and he swiped a hand across his eyes.
It surprised Markie to see him so upset. Had he become that close to Mrs. Saint? “Anyway,” he said, “I’ve been behind the garage, looking, and . . .”
He brought a hand out from behind his back. She hadn’t even noticed he was holding it there. In it, he held a small photograph, old, black-and-white, and creased. He held it up, and together they looked at two baby girls wearing matching dresses, sitting together in an old-fashioned pram. One had her hand on the other’s knee. They were twins, Markie guessed, about a year old.
Behind the pram stood two other children, a boy of about fourteen and a girl slightly younger, maybe eleven or twelve. The boy smiled stiffly in a new-looking suit as he looked partly at the camera and partly at something out of the frame. The girl wore a dress with needlework similar to that in the babies’ dresses, and she smiled openly, looking directly at the camera, her hand resting on the boy’s forearm. Maybe she was trying to get him to look at the camera instead of whatever else had his attention.
Markie turned the photo over to see if there were names written, or maybe a date or location, but there was nothing. Jesse took the photo back and brought his other hand from around his back and opened it, revealing an ancient-looking ring, flat on the top with an etching on it. She took it from him and held it up to see if she could make out the markings.
“I think it might be an S,” Jesse said. “For St. Denis, maybe? I don’t know.”
“It was very good of you to look,” Markie said. “Do you want to take these over so she’ll see them as soon as she gets home?”
He shook his head. “Frédéric called to say they’re coming now, and Bruce and Ronda went into a tailspin, so I came to get you.”
“I’m proud of you for finding those things,” Markie said.
A few minutes later, they rang the bell at Mrs. Saint’s house. “Welcome home!” Markie said when her neighbor answered the door. “How are you? I expected someone else to answer the door. Should you be up and around?”
“Pffft,” Mrs. Saint said. “Worry, worry, worry. Why is it we are all supposed to worry so much? Why cannot we enjoy our lives and leave the worry alone? What does it get for you, the worrying?”
“Well, I hope you’re feeling better,” Markie said. “Should we sit?”
“Enough,” Mrs. Saint said. “I have a whole group of people here who want to do nothing but sit me down so they can stare at me and fret about me and ask if I have yet taken this pill or do I need a glass of water.”
“Fair enough,” Markie said. “Look, I was so sorry to hear about the break-in.”
Mrs. Saint looked to the ceiling and pressed lips together. “Oui.”
“But I have a bit of good news,” Markie said. “Actually, it’s Jesse’s news.” She turned to her son and gestured for him to take over.
Jesse handed Mrs. Saint the photograph. “I found this.” Mrs. Saint took it from him, and when she realized what it was, she pressed a hand against her heart. She looked at Jesse, and Markie saw tears in the old woman’s eyes. “Where?” she asked, her voice a whisper.
“Behind the garage,” Jesse said. “In the woods. I found this, too.” He handed her the ring.
Mrs. Saint took it and touched a finger to the flat top of the engraving.
“What does it say?” Jesse asked.
“S,” she said. “For Sabrine. It was my Edouard’s mother’s ring.”
She looked away, not just a few feet off, but far, far away, and Markie wondered if she was thinking of Edouard’s mother or Edouard. She could see Mrs. Saint’s lips working to press themselves together so they wouldn’t quiver. She was trying not to break down in front of Jesse.
Markie stepped closer and pointed to the photo, thinking a change of subject might help. “Is this you? Are you a twin?”