Emilie was giving the film to Louie Bassett, her hand in midair, when Jacques entered. She hid her astonishment—he rarely came to see her. And his timing couldn’t have been worse.
“Darling, what are you doing here?” she asked, snapping her hand back, clenching the film.
Bassett’s face firmed. He turned to the doorway and glanced at Jacques. Then he slid the magazine along the counter. First a prop, it was now a purchase.
“I was passing by and thought I would stop in,” he said, not smiling.
Emilie could tell something was wrong, but she didn’t know what it was. Her gaze met Bassett’s, pleading for caution. She put the film in her skirt pocket.
Bassett handed her a few bills and picked up the magazine. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy this,” he said, playing the role of customer.
She smiled. “Many
