Page 9 of Fated

The police determined it was a random act of violence. A mentally unstable woman who stumbled upon the glow of the chateau.

Daniel accepted the explanation. So did Max.

I’m not so sure.

It felt ... It felt as if she was telling me ... something.

Mila asks every now and then, her voice quavering, “What if she comes back?”

I don’t have an answer. But I always say, “She won’t. There’s no reason for her to come back.”

Then I turn Mila’s attention to something else.

Keeping busy.

Always keeping busy.

It’s how I’ve lived life since I was six years old and didn’t know what to do with myself.

“... about Christmas Eve?”

I jerk my head, squinting at Hugo Lebrun, director of casemaking at our production facility. “What did you say?”

My voice comes out more harsh than normal. It’s four o’clock and the bright summer sun is glaring through the tall glass window in the conference room. My eyes are gritty and I’m craving an espresso. I didn’t sleep well last night—nightmares.

Daniel frowns at me from across the long mahogany table and I lift a shoulder in a Gaelic shrug. He reaches for the silver carafe of coffee and pours the steaming liquid into a small white mug. Then, with a wink, he pushes it across the table to me.

Hugo’s repeating what I missed and his two team members, both new associates, are scratching notes and nodding. He gestures to the TV on the far wall tuned to the news. It’s the usual. A scrollbar reads that a politician in Canton Vaud has been charged with accepting perks, the Swiss National Bank has a new director, there are road closures downtown. On the screen a reporter looks dispassionately at footage of some natural disaster in a far-off place.

“The leather supplier in Brazil,” Hugo says. “They were affected by the earthquake too. Their manufacturing and tanning facilities were destroyed. I think we were better served in the end, when we shifted to Austria. But ...” He shrugs. “I was informed they still have not recovered.”

“Fi sent aid,” Daniel says. “We sent clean water, food, medical supplies, temporary shelter.”

I sigh and turn away from the TV, now showing the rubbled remains of a small fishing village. I don’t want to see the rubble of someone else’s life—not while mine is still a mess.

I barely remember the earthquake or sending aid. I think perhaps I’ve been keeping myselftoobusy if I can’t remember events that happened little more than a year ago.

I take a sip of the coffee Daniel poured me, and the bitter cocoa flavor bites on the way down.

“We’re all set?” I ask Hugo.

He gives me a startled glance and I smile to soften my tone.

Gosh, I’m tired.

I rub at my abdomen. There’s an ache where the bullet hit. It’s been throbbing all day.

Hugo nods, then he and his associates gather up their laptops and notes and file out of the conference room. Daniel and I are left alone, the wooden door swinging shut with a humming whoosh.

I look down at my watch. It’s a 1956 Liebspielen, a perpetual calendar Abry with an art deco bracelet in pearls and diamonds. It was the first watch made under my dad’s leadership and the first watch he gave me. I’ve had it since I turned sixteen.

It’s six minutes after four—I’m late for my next meeting. My stomach growls. I forgot to schedule lunch.

“You’re running yourself ragged,” Daniel says, cutting into the silence.

He’s switched to English. Usually, we speak French at work and in the city, but when it’s just family, or when we’re with Max, we always speak English. It comes from the fact my first language is English, and for years after my mum left me I refused to speak a word of French. I was convinced she’d return for me, and I felt that somehow, if I gave in and learned French, she never would. Stubbornly, I didn’t speak a word of French until age twelve. It was six years after she left that I finally accepted the fact she wasn’t coming back for me. So, unlike Daniel—who can juggle a half-dozen languages in his head at the same time—I have the slightly accented French of a native English speaker and a lifelong loyalty to my mother tongue.

I take in a long breath. The air in the office is cool and dry. Outside the wall of windows, the blue mountains climb over green fields. On the other side of the building the outskirts of Geneva sprawl toward the city center.

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