Love Is Pink! (10 page)

21

T
he gas needle was in the red zone. I passed by a filling station but their prices seemed too high to me. At the next one they were already considerably less. I pulled in, stopped in front of a pump, and turned off the engine. A long whistle sounded, followed by a short, but loud, explosion.

David sat up in the passenger seat. “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

“We’re here,” I said. “Nancy.”

“What’s a Nancy?” Emma asked. She sounded sleepy, too.

“A city,” I said. “And your father has to take care of some important business here. But first we need to fill up.”

We got out. Emma walked Baby around a bit, which is to say that Baby dragged Emma over the snow-covered green area.

David’s eyes were glued to the large price board. “You actually sought out an inexpensive gas station for us?”

“You won’t find anything cheaper,” I said, while at the same time feeling slight displeasure as I watched the gas pump’s fee counter increase at a raging speed. Finally, it clicked and the tank was full.

David sensed my worry. “This is the last time we’ll be able to fill up,” he said. “After I pay, we’ll only have twenty euros left.”

“That’ll never get us home.” I’d stated the obvious.

“No, we won’t make it. We need to think about how we can get our hands on some money. It might have to wait until later in the day, though.”

“Of course,” I said. “Your important appointment.”

David nodded and disappeared into the station to pay the bill.

Baby ran past me with a laughing Emma in tow. The two were having all kinds of fun, and I envied them. They had no idea of the worries of this terrible world. In truth, I didn’t want to know anything of those worries, either. And up until not too long ago, I’d been quite successful at maintaining my ignorance. But since Mont Blanc, I’d been downright persecuted by bad luck. Now I was worrying about which station sold gas for a few cents less. My God, if things continued to go this way, I’d eventually have to start shopping at Aldi. The thought of that made me shiver.

David returned, sat at the wheel, and began driving us through the city. He stopped several times to ask for directions. The poor guy didn’t even have enough money for a GPS.

He stopped on a busy street and pointed to a detached building.
“Pièces Détachées Pour Automobiles”
was written in large letters on its facade.

“That’s where your appointment is?” I asked skeptically.

“Right.”

“And how long will it take?”

“At least an hour. Maybe two.”

“Two hours?” I puffed up my cheeks. “Puh.” But then I had an idea.

“OK, Emma and I will drive around the city for a bit, then we’ll pick you up a
t . . .
” I looked at my Cartier. “At four o’clock on the dot.”

David gave it a moment’s thought. “Fine,” he said, handing me our last twenty euros. I tried to protest, but he cut me off. “It’s OK, Michelle. Those twenty euros wouldn’t get us home anyway. And you two have richly earned it.”

He got out, and I took his place at the wheel. In the rearview mirror, I noticed him looking back at us before crossing to the other side of the heavily trafficked street.

22

W
here do we want to go?” Emma asked.

I put on the blinker and followed the traffic. “We all need some exercise—especially Baby—so I thought we’d look around. Perhaps we can find something like a Christmas market.”

“Oh, yay! A Christmas market!”

I smiled at her over my shoulder. “We’d all like that. Even Baby, I bet. But first, I need to take care of something.”

“You have urgent business like Papa?”

“Not like Papa. But certainly just as urgent.”

Nancy was a large and beautiful city; I’d never been there before. We tooled around cheerfully, and I got my bearings with help of the signs, which pointed me toward the
centre ville
.

Finally, I discovered what I was looking for. A small, inconspicuous store with a discreet sign: “
Prêt Sur Gage Pawnshop Leihhaus.”

On the other side of the street, there was an unoccupied parking space. I pulled in, right in front of a fancy Mercedes SLK with a German license plate. This time our Citroën produced the obligatory whistling sound and explosion, as well as a black cloud of smoke. Since the car always delivered us to our destination, it didn’t matter to me anymore.

“Baby needs to wait in the car,” I told Emma. “You should come with me. It won’t take long.”

When we got out, Emma ran around the car and grabbed my hand. The first few times she’d done that, it had bothered me a little. It felt as though I was tethered. Strangely, though, I’d come to like it a lot, and if she didn’t come to me on her own, sometimes I’d be the one to grab her hand. If I couldn’t feel her tiny fingers, it felt like something was missing.

A couple roughly my age neared us on the sidewalk. Both were dressed elegantly, their hair freshly styled. They were young and free. The enviable woman could have been me, walking with a good-looking, obviously wealthy man.

Yet here I was instead with my junker and a nice, but extremely annoying, little girl. And the only cash I had totaled twenty euros.

“Your trunk is open a crack,” the man said to me in impeccable German.

Naturally, he’s the owner of the SLK
,
I thought.
This scene could not be topped for its embarrassment. But then, to cap it all off, Baby started barking like crazy, causing the Citroën to shake.

“The trunk is open?” I repeated loudly to drown out Baby’s barking. “Not a big deal—it happens constantly. The lock doesn’t close anymore.”

The young woman looked at me compassionately. “Well, the car isn’t exactly new.”

“But it’s very reliable,” I countered. “It may not look like much, but”—I knocked on the pink tin fender—“it’s still kicking.”

The couple replied with a polite smile.

I pushed down the cover of the trunk resolutely and waved good-bye to the two lucky kids, who’d just climbed into their sparkling clean and shiny Mercedes. Then Emma and I marched across the street to the pawnshop.

23

T
he door opened with a chime and revealed a veritable smorgasbord: clocks, statues, appliances, paintings, rugs, and sparkling jewelry in a glass showcase.

I conjured up my most engaging smile for the woman behind the counter. “Bonjour,” I said. “Y-a-t-il quelqu’un ici qui parle allemand?”

The woman smiled, but her eyes remained cold.

Great,
I thought.
Mrs. Money Shark in person
.

“My husband is from Saarbrücken,” she said in German with a thick accent.

I lifted my arm and opened the latch of my Cartier watch. Valentin had given it to me for our one-year anniversary. He’d even told me its price—something he did every time he gave me a present. That was one of his quirks, and I’d quickly become fond of the habit. The watch was the most valuable thing I was wearing. In many respects.

I took it off and placed it on the counter for effect.

She didn’t even look at it. “What should I do with that?” she asked.

“A genuine Cartier,” I said. “It cost 16,795 euros.”

“That’s clear to me.”

“I’d like to pawn it now.”

“Otherwise you wouldn’t be here,” she said snippily.

“Fine.” I exhaled. “What are you able to give me for it?”

“For that watch?” She smiled widely now. “Absolutely nothing. Such an expensive item screams theft, stolen goods, and police. Or do you happen to have a purchase receipt on you?”

I shook my head.

“Then I can’t do anything. I’m not about to burn my fingers on hot merchandise.”

I didn’t deign to respond; I just picked up my Cartier and headed for the door.

“That lady is mean,” Emma said to me. “I don’t like her.”

Just as we were about to step outside, the lady cleared her throat. “There is one possibility,” the pawn dealer said.

I turned.

“I could give you a
little
money for the watc
h . . .
unofficially. Privately. But it’ll have nothing to do with the shop. And if someone asks about it later, I’ll categorically deny that it ever happened.”

I went back to the counter, set down the Cartier, and waited.

“Four hundred euros,” she said.

I shook my head. “Five hundred. Not a penny less.”

She was poised to answer, but then she looked me in the eyes and just shrugged. She went to the cash register and counted out five hundred euros. I grasped the money, and without looking back once, we left the shop.

“Don’t be sad,” Emma said as we left. “The watch wasn’t even pretty.”

“No?”

“Nope. It looked kind of clunky, didn’t it?”

Outside, it was just beginning to get dark. Baby’s barking echoed above the traffic noise. Loud and piercing. He seemed terribly upset about something. Once we got back to the Citroën, I realized what was wrong. The trunk was wide open. My two suitcases were gone. Stolen. Only David and Emma’s duffel bag was still there.

I pictured a glamorous young woman in a brand-new Mercedes SLK opening the bags and appraising the stylish, designer clothing.

Oh, well. Merry Christmas
, I thought.

24

W
e got in the car and tried to calm Baby down. He was still completely agitated. He kept sniffing the window, snarling, and acting like he wanted to jump out.

“What’s wrong with him?” Emma asked.

I stroked his neck. “Baby is a really cool dog. He immediately knew that the couple with the fancy Mercedes were worthless. As soon as he saw them, he started barking. He tried to warn us. We just didn’t understand him.”

Emma, who was now sitting in the front passenger seat, turned her back to me, lowered her head, and began to tremble. I could hear her soft sobs.

I gently placed my hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Her crying got louder.

“I’m not angry at Baby,” I said, “if that’s what you’re worried about. He did his job really well.”

“That’s not it,” Emma sputtered in between her sobs.

“What is it, then?”

“Your watch is gone, and now your two suitcases are gone, too, with all your beautiful clothes.”

I laughed. “You shouldn’t worry about that. Those are just things. They can be replaced. I’ve got a ton of clothes at home. Believe me.”

Emma looked at me incredulously. “Really?”

“Really.”

“I thought you were sad.”

I considered this briefly, then shook my head. “No, I’m not. And you know what we’re going to do now?”

“What?” Emma’s eyes looked a bit dull, but she seemed to be regaining her cheerfulness.

I pointed to the intersection. “I saw a square up there, with shops and no cars. What do you say we take Baby? I can’t promise you anything, but maybe we can find a few Christmas stands and buy something nice for you and the dog?” After a second I added, “Maybe we’ll even find something for your papa.”

It was a short walk to the traffic-free area. Baby proved himself to be a proper city dog. He didn’t pull, and he walked obediently. As soon as Emma saw the stands decorated with lights, she was the one doing the pulling, hurrying to get there. They had herbal candies, handmade leather goods, hand-carved figurines, Christmas stuff—everything that was necessary at this time of year.

We found a simple but well-made collar and leash for Baby. Emma got a gigantic cotton candy, and since I couldn’t find the gingerbread cookies I love so much, I bought three oversized Christmas cookies in the shape of a funny man with a smile. They looked like they might also be ginger. I didn’t see anything that seemed quite right for David.

“What could we get for your papa?” I asked Emma.

“Butter cookies,” she said promptly.

We went back to the bake stand. There was a whole section of cookies that looked as though they’d been baked with a lot of butter. The sign next to them included the word
beurre
.

“Which of the cookies should we buy?” I pointed to the vast assortment.

Emma did not need time to answer. “Those little hearts with pink on top.”

“Pink?” I said. “Wouldn’t streusel or icing be better? Your papa isn’t a girl.”

“But Papa loves pink.”

“Really?”

“Papa always says love is
pink
.” Emma stressed the last word.

I had to laugh. “No, I’m sure your papa means love is
blind
.”

Emma stood with both hands on her hips. “Is it
your
papa or mine?
My
papa always says love is pink. And since he loves butter cookies, he should get the ones with the pink on them.”

25

A
fter searching for ages, I finally found the building where we’d left David. I guessed it was way after four but couldn’t say for sure without my Cartier. I decided to get myself one of those cheap “Made in Taiwan” digital watches the next chance I got—I needed at least an approximate idea of the time.

I found an empty parking space on the opposite side of the street from the building. I waited until traffic gave way, made a U-turn, and took it.

“Papa’s going to be so pleased,” Emma said. “I’m going to give him the cookies right away.”

“Do! Men are always hungry after stressful business negotiations.”

We got out of the Citroën. Emma had the little bag of cookies in her hand.

“Stay close to the car,” I said. “There’s a lot of traffic. It’s dangerous.”

“Where is he?” Emma asked impatiently. She looked above the hood of the car, toward the entrance of the building.

“He’ll be here soon,” I said, and bent toward Baby, who was happily wagging his tail in front of me. “You want your new handsome leash, don’t you? Every self-respecting dog wears genuine leather.”

Over the sound of traffic, I heard a voice calling my name. I stood up. David was waving from the other side of the street, holding a package under his arm.

Then things happened quickly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small shape move into the street.
Emma.
She was running right across the road. A big truck was just a few meters away from her. With all the snow and ice, the driver wouldn’t be able to brake in time.

“Emma!” I screamed.

Baby catapulted forward, ripping the leash out of my hand. He rushed across the street and jumped through the air. His front paws pushed against Emma’s back. She flew onto a pile of snow at the edge of the road, and David, who’d rushed toward her, was able to scoop her up almost instantly. Then came a muffled crack and a loud cry, as the truck’s bumper crashed into Baby’s flank.

I ran to them. Emma clung to David’s neck. They were both shaking and as pale as ghosts. Baby lay whimpering on the ground. Blood seeped out of a nasty wound. His right hind leg seemed somewhat crooked.

The truck had stopped. Its door opened and the driver looked toward us. He climbed out and went straight to David and Emma. He looked at the wounded dog remorsefully and spoke to David in French. David shook his head after responding briefly.

“Tell him he couldn’t have avoided it,” I said. “And is Emma all right?”

“Yeah,” David said hoarsely. “That was close. But what about Baby?”

I knelt down next to the poor, shivering animal. Resting a hand on his head, I said, “He needs a doctor immediately.”