7“Aristide, have you got a minute?”
Madeleine stepped quickly inside the small office her brother used in the winery and shut the door behind her.
“Parbleu!” He looked up with a surprised grin as she entered, and his eyes widened. He jumped up from his seat. “What on earth has happened? Your face—”
Madeleine held up her hand, palm flat toward him. “It’s nothing. I don’t want any fuss.” She slipped onto the stool and nodded to the seat he’d just vacated. “Please, Aristide. No fuss.”
“Sacré bleu, tell me!”
“I’m getting to it. Give me a chance.”
She’d got back to the house yesterday afternoon and gone straight to bed with the excuse she wasn’t feeling well and needed to rest. When Graysie popped in to check on her in the early evening she made vague excuses of having fallen in the stree
