Céline swallowed hard as the officer turned his attention back to Michel. “Now. What is in that smaller house?” He gestured toward Céline and Theo’s cottage. “My men wish to see.”

? ? ?

An hour later, both homes had been emptied, along with dozens of cases of the Maison Chauveau’s best champagne. Michel had insisted they all remain passive as the Germans grabbed furniture, ripped generations-old tapestries from the walls, raided their pantries, and carried out precious loaves of bread, jars of jam, cans of coffee. The Germans took everything—armchairs, blankets, mattresses—even the old grandfather clock that had stood watch for more than a hundred years in the parlor. They piled it all in the garden outside the main house, crushing the bed of red peonies Inès had stubbornly tended even after Michel had insisted they’d need to convert all remaining tillable soil to vegetable gardens. It was a moot point now.

Atop the pile, Céline saw the faded quilt her mother had made her to celebrate her marriage to Theo, and she felt suddenly furious. What would these men need with something so personal? It was the middle of June; the nights were warm enough. No, the quilt represented something worse—a need to plunder for the sake of plundering. She blinked back tears; she knew she should be more concerned about the loss of furniture, of canned and jarred food that would have taken them through the winter. But the quilt was one of the last things she had to remind her of her mother.

The men poured out from the houses, having finally taken everything of any conceivable value. As the men loaded up the trucks, the officer in charge strolled over, his thumbs hooked in his belt.

“We will be back for more champagne when we need it.” There were crumbs on his mustache, a smear of jelly on the right side of his chin. “All you have belongs to Germany now.”

Michel coughed and pressed his lips into a thin line.

The officer studied him. “Wir werden uns wiedersehen,” he said, his tone menacing. No one responded, and he looked amused by their lack of understanding. Céline made sure to keep her expression neutral, and when the officer’s gaze landed on her again, lingering for long enough that she could feel Theo tensing beside her, she forced herself not to blink, not to flinch, until he finally turned on his heel and strode off.

And then, as quickly as they had arrived, the Germans clambered back into their trucks and pulled away with their spoils, hooting and hollering until they were out of sight.

“What did he say?” Inès asked, her tone bordering on hysterical, once the convoy was finally gone. The sudden silence felt ominous. “Does anyone know what he said?”

“He said we will meet again,” Céline replied. There was no need, though, to translate the intent behind the words. They were a threat, and even in the heat of the warm Champagne sunshine, Céline’s blood felt like it had turned to ice.

five

JUNE 2019

LIV

“You need to snap out of it,” Grandma Edith said as Liv stared out the window at the dark sky over the Atlantic, wondering when she’d see the first rays of dawn over the eastern horizon.

Liv turned, surprised to see her grandmother sitting up, studying her in the muted lighting of their first-class cabin. They had boarded the Delta flight hours ago, but Liv hadn’t been able to sleep, despite the fact that the lay-flat premium seats were even more comfortable than Liv had imagined they’d be.

“I didn’t know you were awake, too.” Liv put a hand on her grandmother’s arm. It was cold, covered in goose bumps, and Liv instinctively reached for the blanket that had slipped to her grandmother’s lap.

“Leave it,” Grandma Edith said, pushing Liv away. “I’m fine. But you aren’t. You’re wallowing.”

“I’m not wallowing. I’m just sad.”

“About that good-for-nothing Eric?”

Liv picked at her thumbnail. “About the fact that I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

“Oh for God’s sake, Olivia, I hope you’re not telling me that you had your identity tied up with that good-for-nothing. I know that after your father died, your mother went through husbands like other people go through cartons of milk, but I thought you were better than that.”

Liv gave her a look. “I just meant that this whole thing blindsided me, and now I feel a little lost, okay? I’m forty-one with no husband, no kids, and no job. It’s not where I thought I’d be.”

“Yes, well, if you let Eric take everything from you, then he wins, doesn’t he?” Grandma Edith shook her head and pushed her call button. “And that would be a disappointment indeed.”

Liv chewed her lip as a flight attendant approached, her mascara smudged, her hair flattened on one side. She’d clearly been sleeping, but Grandma Edith didn’t seem to care as she crisply ordered a gin martini and some pretzels. The flight attendant delivered the order a moment later with a yawn and shot Liv a questioning look. Liv could only shrug. No one ever seemed to know what to make of the diminutive French nonagenarian who drank like a 1960s advertising executive.

“Now, where were we?” Grandma Edith asked after she’d taken a long sip of her cocktail, her third since boarding. Clearly the secret to the old woman’s longevity was an unwavering commitment to pickling her liver. “Oh yes, your malaise. It’s not terribly becoming, dear. My mother always said that a lady should find a way to solve her problems without complaint. I think that was very good advice, though I admit I didn’t always adhere to it.”