The Cherche-Midi mystery: a Julia Latour story

Jeanne

There it was. Right in front of her, lying on the coffee table. She could not help but stare at it. The hot herbal tea cup she was holding was shaking, her legs felt heavy, almost paralysed. Her jaw was tensed.

No, she would not open it. Not right away anyway. She did not have the strength to discover its content. Plus, she had to start making dinner. Monica and Mickaël would soon come back from school, with their backpacks full of homework and starving stomachs.

The notary's file clearly was not this evening's priority. Jeanne stood up suddenly and locked it in the huge living room cabinet.

Why? Why on earth had she wanted to know? Had the love from her adoptive parents not been fulfilling enough? Thinking of it, they were those who had gave her love, that had generated the adult she had become. Why had she wanted so deeply to learn about her biological parents? Those people she did not know, that she had never seen? Why?

On that particular night, Jeanne could not really remember why. The life she used to live, in which she did not imagine that her parents had been found dead in dark circumstances, appeared to her much more sweet and pleasant. Why had she tortured herself all these years, sometimes wondering if her parents had abandoned her because they did not love her?

The doorbell put a sudden end to her wonderments. In just a few seconds, Monica and Mickael came rushing in the apartment.

-How are you guys? How was school today?

- English classes are so boring. I'm pretty sure I speak better English than the teacher.

-Mickaël, don't be so arrogant. It's quite normal, it's your mother tongue.

-Yeah whatever.

Jeanne was amused by the disabused look of her older son. As she was about to ask him about his math test, he had already run into the kitchen, mumbling about how hungry he was, that he would give anything for some peanut butter, as this chocolate cream his classmates were raving about, that "Nutella", was absolutely tasteless to him.

-And how was school for you Monica?

-The other girls aren't nice! I was picked last at gym class!

-Come on sweetheart, it's really not that important.

-Mum are you going to help me with my homework?

-Of course sweety!

-Great!

-But before, time for a small snack.

She was observing each of her children's movements, as if she wanted to memorize them forever. Her children were her greatest satisfaction, her greatest accomplishment.

Jeanne was only twenty when she got pregnant with Michael. She had not planned to become a mother so soon: in 1970, abortion was not an option in America.

Driven by duty more than love, she had married the father of her child, Wallace McDamon, a promising advertiser. He was seven years older than her. She had met him during her studying years, during one of these parties, set up by the alumni association in order to "strengthen the network between former and current students".

Wallace's job was extremely time consuming. It had not been long for Jeanne to concede, almost naturally, that she had to stay home to take care of Mickael. Yet she would have preferred to graduate from Georgetown University's law school. Her parents had spent a great amount of money for her to study in this prestigious DC college. Surprisingly enough, their reaction had been utterly positive when she had told them about her forthcoming wedding with one of the masterminds of American Advertising, this famous firm at the top of the upcoming marketing techniques. Little did they appear surprised when she had added that, on top of that, she was carrying her first child.