Wednesday morning's search gave the same results, and while I tried to hide my feelings, Jacqueline must have noticed something, because she asked as she entered the workroom that morning, "Roberta, are you all right?"
Trying to hide my true feelings, I replied, "I guess I'll be OK. Joseph's death still bothers me, but what about you? Will you be all right? You were so upset the other night when..."
"...I found him," Jacqueline finished for me and then added, "Oui, I'll be OK. I'm glad Mme. Giry gave me the last two days off, though. That poor man..." her voice grew softer as she left that comment go unfinished.
"Any word yet on when the funeral is going to be?" I asked.
Jacqueline shook her head and said, "Non, I don't know how it is in America, but here in France, whenever there is a suspicious death, the body isn't released for burial until the investigation is completed, and I don't know when that will be."
"What a shame!" I exclaimed softly as I got started on mending a shirt for one of the chorus members. Just then, Michel entered the room and seemed to be grumpier than usual. "Bonjour, Michel," I said, hoping that he would come out of his bad mood.
"What's so good about it?" he growled.
"Papa!" Jacqueline exclaimed.
"Daughter, I'm sorry to be such a bear this morning but I bring bad news! The inspector decided to end his investigation just this morning! Mme. Giry called me into her office to tell me that--that's why I'm so late getting down here. Roberta, I know you have to leave in an hour and I apologize for not being able to give you much time to finish that shirt," Michel said as he sat down at his work station to start in on another pair of men's pants.
"That's all right. I'll be in later anyway. So--there won't be an inquest?" I asked.
Michel replied, "Non, this is 'France, not England! The police conduct their investigation and then give the results to the public prosecutor, who then decides whether or not to press charges."
"So, what did the investigator come up with?" Jacqueline asked as she, too, returned to her work.
Nichel snorted and then said, "Natural causes! At least, that's what the coroner found in his investigation! That's why the investigator decided to drop his investigation! Well, it looks like Buquet was right. Still...natural causes, my ass!"
"Well, Papa. Maybe it really was a heart attack," Jacqueline said as she sewed a seam on one of the ladies' skirts.
"Fine! How do you explain the fact that Joseph was dripping wet, eh? You saw him! You know what he looked like! And you even saw that trail of water just like I did! The investigator dropped the ball as far as I'm concerned!" Michel replied, spitting out the words as he did so.
In an effort to calm him down, I finally asked, "So--when's the funeral going to be?"
"Tomorrow afternoon," Michel replied tersely.
"So soon?" Jacqueline asked as she put her sewing down.
"The granddaughter's the only living relative Joseph had and there's only us here at the opera house. There's no need to wait anymore, I guess!" Michel replied bitterly.
My strategy did not seem to be working, so I tried again by saying, "You know, coroners tend to be pretty thorough in their investigations and the inspector may not have had any choice in the matter. He may have only ended his investigation for now but not necessarily close the case. Sometimes our American investigators will leave their cases open, which allows for more information to come in later."
"I sure hope so," Michel replied, this time more calmly. After a short pause, he added, "Well, Roberta! It looks like you share a small talent along with Buquet."
"And what would that be?" I asked as I returned to my sewing.
"You and Buquet both have the unique ability to end any argument between Jacqueline and me," he replied, and then added, "Well, it's nearly ten, now. What time will you be back?"
"I'll be back by five. What time is Joseph's funeral tomorrow?" I asked.
Michel shrugged his shoulders and answered, "Don't know. Mme. Giry said Joseph's granddaughter would get back with her sometime this afternoon. Speaking of Mme. Giry, she wants totalk with you sometime today, if you would. It doesn't sound like anything serious, though, so you could wait to talk with her after you get back from your break."
"Are you sure it's nothing serious?" I asked, my sense of dread returning immediately, for I remembered my previous conversations with her.
"I don't think so. She would have said something if it was. Go on now and enjoy your lunch. We'll see you later," Michel replied in a much calmer tone of voice. Evidently, my tactic had finally worked, for he seemed much less angry and frustrated than he had earlier. These Frenchmen and their moods!
"OK, then. I'll see you guys later," I said as I left the room to go to lunch.
On my way back to the Fontaines for lunch, I stopped at a PTT and called every hospital in Paris. I had not seen Erik since Friday morning of the previous week and was getting worried, wondering if he was having trouble with his diabetes again. Unfortunately, not one of the hospitals had even seen anybody by the name of Erik Filipovic, let alone admitted anyone by that name in the last two months. This worried me even more, for it was unlike Erik to bo gone for so long without so much as a note explaining his absence. While I was on the subway on the way to the Fontaines, I remembered the note Erik had left the last time he disappeared. If only I knew who his friends were in order to contact him, I thought as the subway train moved along at its usual high speed to its next destination.
When I returned to the opera house that afternoon, Mme. Giry was waiting for me in the workroom. She then asked me if we could go to her office and when we got there, she quietly closed the door behind her and asked me to be seated. Somewhat puzzled by her actions, especially in light of Michel's earlier comments, I asked, "Is there anything wrong?"
She breathed a sigh as she sat down at her desk, and then replied, "Oui, I'm afraid there is. As you well know, I'm not very good at bearing bad news."
"Does this bad news have anything to do with poor Joseph?" I asked.
She sighed again and replied, "Some of this does. His granddaughter called earlier today and said that his funeral will be held tomorrow at two o'clock at LaVal funeral home. Do you know where that's at?" I shook my head, and she continued, "Well, never mind. Perhaps you can go with Michel and Jacqueline, or even better yet, with M. Buquet and his wife. I called him right after Joseph's granddaughter called me. If you'd like, I can give you his number for I'm sure ;he'd like to hear from you."
"That would be fine, madame...but something tells me that you have more bad news to tell me," I said as I leaned forward in my chair.
She sighed yet again and then said, "Unfortunately, I do. Madame, there really is no way I can break this gently, so I'll get right to the point--the good news is that you still have a job here at the opera house but the bad news is that you will not be allowed to be Buquet's successor."
I leaned back in my chair in shock and after a moment, I finally managed to say, "But I thought that's why Jean-Baptiste hired me--to be his replacement."
"That is indeed why he hired you," she replied as she nodded her head.
Fighting to control myself, I asked, "Is it my work? My crazy hours?"
"Non, pas de tout (not at all)! In fact, before the retirement party, Buquet made it quite clear that you were everything he wanted in a successor. In spite of your hours, you got your work done and done well, and you were most cooperative, even going so far as to work extra hours especially after that unfortunate incident with the men's breeches. Non, Buquet was quite satisfied with you as are M. Hauptmann and myself," she replied.
"Then what..." and after a short pause, I added, "It's Carlotta, isn't it?"
"Now,madame, you must understand our position. After our little...talk last week, Carlotta informed us that she bought out two of the owners of the company and now owns thirty percent of this opera company. With that in mind, we must, of course, take her wishes into consideration. I am truly very sorry. Buquet, and indeed, the rest of the company as well, speaks very highly of you," she replied.
"Everyone except Carlotta!" I said bitterly.
She nodded her head and said softly, "Except her, I'm afraid."
It took me a moment to gain control of my voice but I finally managed to say, "Well--I suppose I should be grateful. After all, not everyone in Paris is fortunate enough to be employed. So--who's going to succeed Jean-Baptiste?"
"Michel will be the acting head of the costume department until we can find someone else to replace Buquet. You, of course, are more than welcome to stay on as the assistant to whoever we hire," she replied.
I could only nod my head and say softly, "Yes, I'd like that." That is, if La Carlotta doesn't mind! I thought to myself. I did not express that thought out loud, however, knowing that a sarcastic remark like that would get back to Carlotta, the new owner of a major share of the company, who would no doubt not let a remark like that go unpunished.
"Very good. Personnally, I'm very glad you have decided to stay, as I'm sure almost everyone else will be as well. I'll let you go now, but before you leave..." Mme. Giry said as she reached over to her right and got a small stick-up note, and then handed it to me. She then added, "Here is Buquet's phone number. I'm sure he'll be glad to give you a ride to Joseph's funeral."
"Merci. I'll give him a call this evening before I go home. I just hope this doesn't put him out any," I replied as I took the note that she held out for me.
"On the contrary, I don't think Buquet would mind at all. Tell him we'll see him tomorrow at the funeral,"Mme. Giry said as she leaned back in her chair and then added, "I hope to see you there as well."
I nodded my head and said, "I'll be there. I didn't know Joseph very well...I only spoke with him once or twice, but I'll be there to pay my repects. Well, I guess I'd better get back to work. I'll call Jean-Baptiste later on. Thank you for giving me his number."
As I rose from my seat, Mme. Giry said, "Don't say anything yet to Michel about his unexpected promotion. It's only temporary, and besides, M. Hauptmann and I would like to break the news together when we have decided on Buquet's successor. And, thank you again for agreeing to stay on. Be assured that both M. Hauptmann and I feel that you're a valued employee here at the opera house and both of us will do everything we can to make things as tolerable as we can."
"Merci, madame. That makes me feel very good," I replied as I walked to the door to leave the office.
Mme. Giry smiled for the first time that afternoon and said, "Believe it or not, Roberta, you do have friends in high places here at the opera house. We'll see you tomorow at the funeral."
When I returned to the workroom, both Michel and Jacqueline expressed surprise that I had been gone so long. "Mme. Giry didn't fire you again, did she?" Jacqueline asked as I entered the room.
"Jacqueline, don't ever joke like that again!" Michel spoke sharply to his daughter, and then turning to me, he asked, "What took you so long? Is everything all right?"
Remembering Mme. Giry's orders of confidentiality, I could only nod my head and say, "Mme. Giry thought I might want to call Jean-Baptiste and ask for a ride to Joseph's funeral tomorrow."
"Is that all? It sure took a long time for just that!" Michel replied.
I only shrugged my shoulders and said, "I'd like to call Jean-Baptiste before I get back to work." Seeing that I would not say anything more, Michel only pointed to the phone and then returned to his work. My old boss was delighted to hear from me in spite of the circumstances and was more than willing to pick me up at the opera house the following day to take me to Joseph's funeral.
After I finished my phone call, Michel stopped working on his project, came over to my worktable where I had gone, and said, "You know, if you really needed a ride to the funeral, you could have come with Jacqueline and me."
"I didn't want to put you out, and besides, Mme. Giry suggested it at our meeting a little while ago," I replied, touched by Michel's offer.
"Well, I suppose if Mme. Giry thought that would be a good idea...but I thought you'd like to hang around us. I may be an old grouch but I promise you, my bark is worse than my bite," Michel said softly.
I looked up at him from where I was sitting and smiling at his little joke, I replied, "Now, I never said I didn't like being around you two. Tell you what, I'll come and sit with you two at the funeral. By the way, I've never been to a French funeral before--is there anything I need to bring? Any flowers? Or...anything?"
Michel shook his head and said, "I don't think so. His granddaughter made all of the arrangements," and then turning to Jacqueline, he asked, "Did Giry say anything about a luncheon after the funeral?"
"She didn't say anything to me about one but I would be surprised if his granddaughter didn't plan on having something after the funeral," Jacqueline replied as she looked up from her own project that she had started.
"Hmmm, I suppose you're right..." he mused and then, turning back to me, he added, "I wouldn't worry about bringing anything. About the only thing needed is your presence."
I nodded and said, "I really didn't know the man very well but I'll be there."
I came to the opera house at ten the next morning, not only to finish the pile of costumes on my worktable that needed mending but also to try to find Erik. It had been nearly a week since I had last seen him and I was getting more worried every day that went by. Before going downstairs to the workroom, I stopped by Jean-Baptiste's old office and picked up the three volumes of the Paris phone book, took them downstairs, and for the next two hours, I called every hospital (again!) as well as every morgue and funeral home, asking if any had an Erik Filipovic. The hospitals were still unable to help me as were the funeral homes and morgues. Good news, I suppose, I thought to myself as I finished the last phone call. At least, it looks like good news. He could still be sick in his room or...what? Dead, and no one knows? God, I hope not! But, no one's seen him except for the one hospital I called earlier, and they hadn't seen him in two months. No, there has to be a reason why he hasn't shown up here in almost a week. I just wish I knew what it was--we hadn't quarreled...he seemed to be in good health...I just wish he'd contact me somehow and let me know he's OK. Man! Is it noon already? Jean-Baptiste will be here any minute and here I am with all these costumes on my table. He really will think this place has gone to hell in a handbasket since he retired! I thought to myself as I grabbed one of the lady's skirts and began to rip out the hem in order to lengthen it.
Just as I finished putting in the new hem, in walked my old boss who promptly asked, "Ready to go?" and then added, "Still mending, I see. That's one job I don't think I'll miss."
I looked up from my work delighted to see my old boss, and said, "Bonjour, Jean-Baptiste. Just thought I'd keep myself busy until you came. Yes, I'm ready to go. Let me put this up. I'll finish it tomorrow, I guess. I doubt I'll be coming back any time today to finish it..." my voice rising a bit on the last sentence.
Jean-Baptiste shook his head and said, "Not unless you really want to. I understand Giry gave everybody the day off, which is not surprising. Joseph was well-liked here at the opera house, in spite of his...shall I say...funny ways."
I gathered my things, and as we left the room, I said, "Michel says that Joseph wasn't always so strange."
"Michel also tells a lot of stories. Non, Joseph was always a little eccentric, certainly as long as I've been here," Jean-Baptiste replied. I nearly asked him how long he had been at the opera house, for his story and Michel's did not agree. However, I decided it would be better not to do so. Why start anything on today of all days! I thought as the two of us left the building. I saw Andre leave after he let us out, locking the door behind him as he did so. "You know that there's a good reason to close the opera house when you see Andre lock up and leave the place," Jean-Baptiste commented as we got into his car to drive to the funeral home. I only nodded as we drove through the streets of Paris. I also thought of asking Jean-Baptiste if he had heard from Erik since the retirement party but thought the better of it as well. No sense worrying him about Erik as well--at least not until I can find out if he's OK or not, I thought as we continued driving. Finally, when we stopped at a light, Jean-Baptiste turned to me and said, "You're awfully quiet, Roberta. Still upset about Joseph?"
Not wanting him to know my real thoughts, I only nodded and said, "Oui," and then added, "And I guess I'm upset over what Michel said."
"And just what did our master story teller say this time?" he asked as the light changed and he drove on.
Hearing the sarcasm in his voice, I replied with a lighter tone in my voice, "Oh, nothing, I suppose."
As we stopped at another light, Jean-Baptiste growled, It's a good thing I gave us plenty of time to get there. OK, out with it! What did Michel tell you?" Just then, the light changed, and he turned back to his driving. We drove on in silence for a few minutes, and then he added, "If you don't tell me, I swear I'll corner Michel right in the middle of the service and I'll get him to tell all of us what he told you!"
"Jean--you wouldn't!" I exclaimed, using the familiar form of his name, which I almost never did, for I was shocked at the very idea of interrupting a funeral for such a triffling matter as co-workers gossiping.
"Don't think I wouldn't do that? Are you sure you want to try me?" Jean-Baptiste replied tersely.
Realizing that he was serious, I sighed and said, "All right, I'll tell you what Michel said. He said...Joseph didn't die of natural causes, and Michel thinks there was foul play involved because Joseph's body was all wet!"
"What utter nonsense!" Jean-Baptiste growled as we got to yet another stop light. When the light changed, he drove on and then added, "Michel talks too much!"
"But was it?" I asked.
"Was it what?" he replied.
"The body! Was it like Michel said--soaking wet?" I asked.
Jean-Baptiste hesitated to answer as he was busy passing a slow moving vehicle. Finally, he said, "Oui, the body was wet, but there's a perfectly logical explaination. You see, the coroner felt that Joseph died of cardiac arrest and sometimes, cardiac arrest victims sweat profusely. Therefore, that would explain Joseph's wet clothing."
"But what about the water under the body as well as the trail of water Michel says he saw?" I asked.
"Michel embellishes his stories far too much! I'm going to have a talk with him after the funeral!" Jean-Baptiste said determinedly. After a few more minutes of silence, he added, "Ah, here we are. Well, that little trip didn't take as long as I thought, in spite of the lights. I thought it would take us over a half an hour and it only took twenty-five minutes."
We pulled up to a small non-descript building and were able to find a parking spot just down the street from the building itself. "That doesn't look like a funeral home to me," I said softly as we got out of the car, for I was used to seeing funeral homes that looked like chapels, just as most do in America.
Jean-Baptiste chuckled and said, "Why not? What do you think funeral homes should look like?"
I shook my head and said, "Back home, our funeral homes look more like churches or chapels."
As we walked to the door of the building, he said as he shook his head, "You obviously aren't in the States anymore!"
The funeral was short, which was surprising since nearly everyone from the opera house was there, including most of the chorus and orchestra. Those in attendance as well as those who were not, which included Carlotta, I might add, all sent flowers. Even though I had not bought any flowers for the late stage hand, Erik had and signed my name to them as well. He does a decent job at forging my name. If I didn't know better, I would be afraid to leave anything around with my signature for fear that he would forge a check in my name! I thought as I looked around at all of the flower arrangements in the chapel-like area set aside for the funeral. Of all the funerals I have attended in my life, I have never seen as many flowers as I saw at Joseph's funeral, nor have I seen as many donations to Joseph's favorite charities--l'Arche, the French equivalent of the Association of Retarded Citizens, as well as the French equivalent of the Alzheimers' Association. The baskets the funeral home set out for the purpose of collecting donations were both overflowing with envelopes earmarked for the two charities.
As Jean-Baptiste and I walked into the chapel area, I saw Michel and Jacqueline sitting in the row just second from the front, which was reserved for family members. As we sat down next to my co-workers, I heard Michel whisper to his daughter, "The funeral director should ask some of us to sit next to Joseph's granddaughter. It'll look like he had more family." As she nodded her assent, he noticed us sitting down next to him. He then turned to us and said softly, "Ah, good to see you, Roberta. I see you're making good on your promise to sit with us. Buquet, it's good to see you, too. I'm glad you could make it." His eyes scanned the room and he added, "Too bad not everybody's here. The way that Carlotta woman worked Joseph, the very least she could do was show up at his funeral!"
"Shhh, papa! People will hear you!" Jacqueline whispered sharply.
We all heard a throat being cleared behind us and then a male voice spoke softly but with authority, saying, "Indeed they can, Michel. Carlotta called us this morning and said she has the flu. As bad as she sounded on the phone, I have no doubt she has a good excuse. Besides, if you look over in the left corner next to the casket, you'll see that big flower arrangement on the easel--that's from Carlotta. And in addition to that, Carlotta sent a donation of a thousand francs to l'Arche--so don't judge Carlotta harshly, my friend. She, too, misses the old stage hand."
"Yes, M. Hauptmann," Michel replied contritely.
"And you, madame. How are you doing these days? Mme. Giry says you are taking Joseph's death rather hard," M. Hauptmann said as he turned to me.
I shook my head and said, "I guess I'm still in shock. You know, you just don't expect a co-worker to drop dead at work!"
M. Hauptmann nodded as well and said simply, "Indeed!", just as Mme. Giry came and sat down next to him. Right after she sat down, we heard organ music, probably piped in from the next room, as there was only enough room in the one we were in to fit the casket, the flowers and the nearly one hundred folding chairs. As the music played, the last of the mourners filed into the chapel-like facility. I took a quick look around just before the funeral began and noticed that there was almost standing-room only. That's a sign of a truly good man--when there's standing room only at his funeral! I thought as yet another song was played on the organ. I wonder what kind of a funeral he'll have. These songs don't sound like hymns to me! I thought as the organ music continued. Finally, the organ music changed to another song, and at that, the whole assembly rose as a younger woman dressed in black walked down the main aisle and then up to the casket itself. She put her right hand, gloved in black, on the closed lid of the casket and stood there silently fow several minutes before finally sitting down in the chair right in front of Jean-Baptiste. With that, eveyone else who was standing sat down as well, and the funeral began.
The funeral, as I said before, was short--certainly a lot shorter than I had always remembered the ones I had attended to be! The reader must keep in mind that I am a Catholic and the funerals I had gone to before always included a funeral mass. This one did not. Also, the reader must keep in mind that I come from a large family, and it is not uncommon to attend funerals that number in the hundreds in attendance. Although this one was not much smaller than those, it was still too short in my opinion. Afterwards, I was to learn that Joseph had not been a believer and had long ago requested that there be no funeral mass, and since his granddaughter was also not a believer, she complied.
After the service was over, his granddaughter walked up to the lectern and announced that there was to be a funeral luncheon to be held at the union hall located about a half a mile from the funeral home. I was surprised that she gave no directions to get to the hall. After she left the lectern, I leaned over to ask Jean-Baptiste about it and he replied that everyone there either knew where the hall was, or was riding with someone who did. "Well, do you know where this place is at?" I asked softly.
"Of course! Everybody knows where the hall is!" he replied softly, but in a tone of voice that made me feel as if I were from another planet.
Just then, as if on cue, everyone started to get up out of their seats and some began to leave the room, no doubt on their way to the union hall. Michel, Jacqueline, Jean-Baptiste and myself did the same, and as we left the room, Michel turned to me and asked, "Well, what did you think of that?"
"This has got to be the strangest funeral I've ever been to--no eulogies to Joseph...no stories about him...just the bare facts about his life, training, and employment history!" I replied, shaking my head at the thought of the bare simplicity of the service.
"That's partly at his request as well as his granddaughter's wishes," Jean-Baptiste replied.
"His granddaughter? Doesn't she care about that poor old man at all?" I asked incredulously.
"On the contrary! She and Joseph were very close, in spite of the physical distance between them. My feeling is that she didn't want to break down here at the funeral parlor. And if it's stories you want to hear, believe me, you'll hear some whoppers! Now, are you ready to go?" Jean-Baptiste finished by asking. I nodded, and we left, Michel and Jacqueline in their car, and Jean-Baptiste and me in his.
The union hall was in another non-descript building, not far from the funeral parlor, and while the outside of the building was rather plain, the decor inside was quite the opposite, with black and white parquet floors, and dark wood paneling on the walls. The floor plan of the hall reminded me of the small Ameican Legion or Veterans of Foreign Wars posts one finds scattered throughout America's heartland. There was a short entrance way at the front door and a hallway at the other end of the entrance way. The hallway was perpendicular to the entrance way, with offices located on the left end of the hallway, and a large meeting room located on the right, which was where the funeral luncheon was set up. As we entered the meeting room, I noticed that it, too, was arranged not unlike the meeting rooms of veterans' posts, with even the standard kichenette area in the back corner. "Where do you want to sit, Papa?" Jacqueline asked, as she and Michel followed us into the room.
"Wherever Roberta want to sit!" Michel replied, and then turning to me, he added, "That is, if you're going to make good on the rest of that promise of yours and sit with us!"
"Of course! But only if Jean-Baptiste sits with us as well!" I replied.
"Bien sur, he can sit with us! That is, if you don't mind being an employee sitting sandwiched between her old boss and her new one," Michel replied, and then looking at Jean-Baptiste and then me, he added, "You did know about that, didn't you?"
I nodded as did Jean-Baptiste, who finally said softly, as we all sat down at one of the long tables set up for the luncheon, "Yes, but I want you both to know that this was not of my doing!"
"We know that, mon vieux. Mon dieu! La Carlotta sure gets her way, doesn't she? It's a good thing she's got a good excuse for not being here today, or she'd really hear it from me! And as for promoting me instead of Roberta...well, it's not like I mind the raise in pay, which I don't, but you know I like working with my hands better than managing people! That was your job, and it should have been Roberta's! God knows she's better with people that I ever will be!" Michel exclaimed.
I blushed a little and then said, "I'm not sure I'm as good as you say--otherwise, I'd be able to handle Carlotta!"
"Oh, that witch had it out for you from the beginning, so I wouldn't worry about her. As for the rest of us, you can handle Jacqueline and me just fine and that's no small feat, let me tell you! But enough of this! I'm hungry! Let's eat and tell stories about Joseph--that's what we came here for!" Michel exclaimed, as we all rose from our seats to join the line that had formed at the buffet table. Unlike the other parties where there had been buffets, this one only had very simple refreshments--coffee, biscuits, and a very simple cake that was much smaller than its American counterpart.
After we returned to our seats, Jacqueline, who was seated opposite from me, leaned forward and asked, "Do they have union halls like this in America?"
"I imagine that they do, but I've never been in one," I replied, and then seeing the puzzled look on her face, I added, "My dad was an accountant who worked for the largest department store chain in St. Louis. After he took a transfer to work at one the stores in Denver, we moved there."
"But don't accountants belong to a union in America?" she asked.
I shook my head and replied, "Maybe here in France, but not in America. But I will say this much--this hall reminds me a lot of the VFW post my dad was active in."
"VFW?" she asked, even more puzzled.
"Veterans of Foreign Wars. It's a veterans' organization that used to be really big at one time, especially for veterans of World War Two, but unfortunately, those guys are dying off like flies, and the membership of the VFW is dying along with them," I replied sadly.
Michel cleared his throat and said, "Well, we're all dying off nowadays, but Joseph was a little younger than your father, as am I. I was born right after the war, so I have no memories from that time but Joseph would have, since he lived through the Occupation. But, he never talked about that, at least not to me anyway." Then, seeing the expression on my face, he added, "Now, you're not going to cry, are you? Good God! You never knew the man like I did, woman!"
At that, Jacqueline nudged him at his side, and then whispered sharply, "Papa!"
Hearing her, I said softly, "It's all right, Jacqueline. It's not just this hall or the shock of losing a co-worker so suddenly. It's other things as well. Joseph died the same way my father died--of a sudden heart attack, although my dad was luckier than Joseph because my mother was with him when he died. And just now finding out that Joseph lived through the German Occupation...It's too bad my father and Joseph didn't live long enough to meet each other. Can you imagine the stories those two could have told?"
The other three only nodded, and the Michel exclaimed, "So that explains the big flower arrangement right next to Carlotta's! You sent that one, didn't you?"
Jacqueline nudged her father again as I quickly covered for Erik by saying, "I sent some flowers but not those."
"What do you mean? You must have!" Michel exclaimed, and then turning to his daughter, he asked sharply, "Now what?"
"I've been trying to tell you since we left the funeral parlor that Roberta didn't send those flowers," Jacqueline replied.
"Well, if she didn't, who did?" Michel asked through clenched teeth, no doubt upset because he was proven wrong once again.
Jacqueline shrugged her shoulders and said, "Somebody by the name of Erik Filipovic. I've never heard of him."
"That Erik again! What in the hell is
a rat-catcher doing by sending fancy flower arrangements to a funeral and
then not showing up? What makes this Erik feel he's so damned special?"
Michel
exclaimed.
"I think sending those flowers was very kind of Erik. As for not coming to the funeral, maybe he had his reasons. You know, he was the one who gave me the rose geranium at my retirement party." Jean-Baptiste replied.
I looked at my old boss sitting next to me and then at my new one. For a moment, no one said anything more. Finally, Michel grumbled, "Well, still..."
Taking a cue from Jean-Baptiste, I said, "You know, Michel, you worked with Joseph longer than anybody here at this table. Why don't you tell us what it was like working with him."
"Yes, Papa. Tell us about the time he got lost in the basement," Jacqueline suggested.
"Which time was that? He was always getting lost in the basement!" Michel replied sardonically.
"Well...you know!" Jacqueline prodded, and with that, we were regaled the rest of the afternoon with Michel's stories of Joseph, nearly all of which were humorous.
At about four o'clock, people began to leave the hall. Jean-Baptiste left us for a few minutes to pay his repects to Joseph's granddaughter and then returned to our table just as Michel was ending one of his stories about Joseph. "Well, Michel, it's about time I took Roberta home. It's going to get dark soon, and I'll be driving home in the dark as it is."
Michel turned to him, nodded his head and said, "I suppose Jacqueline and I should do the same. It was good seeing you again even if it was under these circumstances. Listen, why don't you stop by the opera house sometime? It's not been the same since you left and now with Joseph gone...Well, I know Roberta does her best and God knows how hard I try to get along..." Jacqueline rolled her eyes at that statement, and I managed to stifle a giggle. Glancing sternly, first at Jacqueline and then at me, he turned back to Jean-Baptiste and asked, "You see what I have to put up with?"
Smiling, Jean-Baptiste replied, "I'll do what I can." Then, looking at me, he asked, "Are you ready to go?"
I nodded, rose from my chair, put my coat back on, which I had hung on the back of my chair, and said, "I'd like to stop and talk with Joseph's granddaughter before we leave. I'll only take a minute." Jean-Baptiste glanced at his wristwatch and then nodded as we walked over to her table.
We reached her table just as she was finishing up a conversation with the man seated next to her. Seeing the two of us standing there next to her, she rose and turned to me. At that moment, I was trying to think of words in French to express my condolances, when she rescued me by saying in English, "Thank you for coming. I know you didn't know grand-pere very well but I appreciate you coming to his funeral."
I nodded and said, "His death is a loss for all of us."
Taking my hand, she said softly, "Indeed." Then she turned to Jean-Baptiste and said, "Thank you again, M. Buquet, for coming. Grand-pere would be pleased to know he was remembered so fondly."
"I wouldn't miss this for all the world, Vivienne. Stop by and visit us before you leave Paris. You know where my wife and I live."
"I'll do that, M. Buquet," she replied and then she turned as both Michel and Jacqueline came up to her to express their sympathies.
"Au revoir," I said softly as we turned to leave.
"Au revoir," she replied as she turned briefly to us and then back to Michel and Jacqueline.
As we left the building, Jean-Baptiste shook his head and said, "Vivienne is one strong lady, but I don't know how she'll get through this. She's taking this awfully hard."
"I thought she seemed to be taking her grandfather's loss well," I replied, not meaning to contradict my old boss. I must be hanging around Michel and Jacqueline too much! I thought to myself as Jean-Baptiste opened the passenger door of his car for me.
After he went around and got into the driver's seat, he shook his head again and said, "She's not taking it as well as you might think. You might not have noticed it but she's been living on cigarettes and coffee since all this happened! The doctors even had her on tranquilizers. They may still have her on medication for all I know. No, believe me--She's not handling this well at all. And can you really blame her?"
"But he was only her grandfather!" I exclaimed.
"Only the grandfather that helped raise her, you mean," he replied tersely as he carefully pulled out of his parking spot and into the growing evening traffic. Glancing my way as he passed a car, he noticed the look of incredulity on my face, for he explained, "Vivienne's mother died giving birth to her and both her father and Joseph raised her. Why, I remember her coming to the opera house with Joseph when she was no older than three, and then later on, when she was older, she'd stop by the opera house and wait for Joseph until he got off work. No, losing her father was bad enough but losing her grandfather is probably worse."
"Oh...I didn't realize..." I said softly, my voice trailing off as I turned back around and settled in the car seat. After a few awkward moments of silence, I added, "By the way, thank you for coming to Erik's defense earlier."
"I'm glad you brought him up. How is he?" Jean-Baptiste replied.
"I don't know--I haven't seen him since the morning of your retirement party," I replied softly.
"No kidding? Really?" Jean-Baptiste asked and then, after a brief moment, added, "Well...have you checked his place?"
"I don't know where he lives," I replied with a tone of resignation to my voice. I looked at Jean-Baptiste for a moment in the growing twilight of the day, and seeing the look on his face, I added, "Just because the guy gives me singing lessons doesn't mean I know his whole life story! He's never told me where he lives, and in fact, I know nothing more about him than what I've told you!"
Shrugging his shoulders as we drove to the Fontaines, he finally said, "Well, if I know Erik, he'll turn up sooner or later."
"How can you be so sure? Has he done this before--disappearing for long periods of time, I mean?" I asked.
"Oh, a few. The first time he did this, he had only been working at the opera house for a few months. One day we were having a wonderful conversation, and the next day, he disappeared. I didn't hear from him for two weeks, but I knew he had been around because there were no reports of rat droppings anywhere in the building. The next time he did his disappearing act, Carlotta went on one of her rampages and anybody who was smart got out of her way. Erik was one of the smart ones--he went away and didn't come back until she left on vacation. Non, I wouldn't worry about Erik too much, but if you insist, you can always check his traps or check for rat droppings. Erik may not be big on polite social behavior but I've never known him to neglect his duties," Jean-Baptiste replied as he pulled up next to the Fontaines' apartment building.
I sighed and said, "I think I'll do that tomorrow. Thank you for the ride and I'll see you...non, I guess I won't see you at work tomorrow. So when will I see you?" I asked as I started to open the passenger door.
"Non, I'll get the door for you," Jean-Baptiste replied as he unfastened his seatbelt. Then he added, "I'll be stopping in from time to time. I want to make sure the place doesn't fall apart during my absence."
"Don't worry--it already has, but at least I know you're just checking up on me," I smiled as I replied.
Seeing that I was teasing, Jean-Baptiste smiled
back and then said seriously, "Don't worry about Erik. He'll show
up eventually and act as if nothing happened. Just give him his space
and things will be just like always. You'll see."