Fleur De Lies(36)
“I don’t know how to Skype.”
“Nana can help you figure it out. You’ll be able to talk to each other face to face whenever you want. It’ll almost be as good as being in the same room together.”
“What if she doesn’t have a computer?”
“Madeleine will have a computer.”
He inched his chin off his chest, looking desperate to believe me.
“But I still don’t know how to get in touch with her. We left before I got a chance to exchange any contact information.”
“Have you Googled the French white pages?”
“Yup. I entered Solange’s name and village, but I didn’t get any hits. I didn’t get any for Madeleine either.” His voice grew thready with anxiety. “What if the family has gone wireless? How will I find her if they only use mobile phones? There’s no white pages for cell phone numbers.”
I reached for his hand and squeezed hard. “That’s true, but … Madeleine is an employee of the tour company, so she has to communicate with them somehow. Why don’t I try to convince the person in charge of that stuff to share her contact information with us.”
His rheumy old eyes lit up like the grand finale in a fireworks display. “Really? Are they allowed to do that? Even with all the privacy laws?”
I offered him a reassuring smile. “You know me. I can be very convincing.” And if that didn’t work, I had my usual ace in the hole: Nana could hack into anything.
“Golly.” He propped himself higher in his chair. “All of a sudden, I feel a whole lot better.”
“Of course you do! You’ve just caught a whiff of the world’s most natural mood-elevating elixir.” I smiled. “Hope.”
Blinking away tears, he leaned sideways and threw his bony arms around me. “I’m going to invite Solange and her whole extended family to Iowa,” he vowed, sniffling into the crook of my neck. “Her last name isn’t Spenard anymore, so I reckon she got married again, but that doesn’t matter. I’ll reserve a whole floor of that new hotel opposite the waterpark. And she can bring her kids and grandkids and great-grandkids if she has any.”
“You’d better ask about a senior citizen discount,” I teased as he released me. “You might need it.”
He swiped moisture from his cheeks as his newfound generosity introduced itself to his Iowa practicality. He gave his jaw a self-conscious scratch. “Not that it matters, Emily, but do you suppose Solange had a whole brood of kids?”
“Well, she had at least one—Madeleine’s mother. That’s about all we know for now … other than your name is apparently a popular one in the family.”
“Isn’t that something? I’ve never known another Osmond in all my life, and here Madeleine says there’s a whole bunch on her family tree. I wonder what the deal is? Why Osmond?”
“I’m sure Solange will be happy to take you through the family genealogy the next time you talk to—” The words leaving my mouth suddenly jogged something in my brain, prompting me to consider a possible twist in the family genealogy. Was the name Osmond popular because it had been carried down through the centuries? Or was it popular for another reason entirely? One that had me staring at Osmond, gobsmacked.
“Osmond? This is none of my business, so please don’t feel obligated to reply, but during the war, did you and …” I gave my head an awkward bob, suddenly tongue-tied. I cleared my throat and tried again. “What I’m trying to say is, were you and Solange … you know … an ‘item’ while you were together in France?”