Speak Softly, Love

Chapter 2: The Girl in the Rain

March 22, 1939

     Monsieur LeBlanc counted the francs in his satchel and slid each coin across the table, where Adrien caught them in his hands. His family watched the faux game play out, noticing their father flick a coin harder than necessary. The sound blended with the ticking of the clock and then the Monsieur had run out of ammunition. He watched his tenant's finger fight with a lighter and soon his face was covered in a veil of smoke.

     "How's Madame Agreste?" Adrien winced. "Last time I saw her, she seemed to be well."

     "Lila is doing fine. She's out of town for today. In Paris."

     The scent of smoke was reminiscent of their housekeeper back home, who worked with vigor in spite of his wife's invalidations. The francs in his hand were subjected to his impatience, as he pressed the few into his palm.

     "Paris? I suppose you are glad to have a break then, no?" He chuckled, though his wife seemed to find it in bad taste. It left little effect to Adrien as it led him to wonder on what Monsieur LeBlanc had meant. The whole village seemed to know about the nature of his marriage. Everyone would understand if he walked away.

     When Adrien entered the tailor shop, Monsieur Cesaire's daughter let out a quiet gasp. 

     "Monsieur Agreste, I wasn't expecting you! Are you here for your wife's dress?"

     He nodded, absently, his attention directed to a small, black kitten inside an empty carton of spools. The girl disappeared into a back room and the kitten nuzzled it's face into a scrap piece of rayon fabric. He had proposed the idea of a pet before, but Lila denied it as soon as it left his mouth. A smile dawned upon his face as its purring filled his ears.

     "Sorry for the wait, Monsieur. Here you go."

     He held the garment in his hands, admiring the craftsmanship. "No worries. I did not wait long." He reassured, still eyeing the dress. It was red in color, with intricate trimmings of chiffon and black lace, topped off with pearl buttons of proportionate size. It looked like one of the beautiful pieces Lila had fawned over in her high-fashion books from Paris.

     "It's a beautiful dress." He breathed out. "You did a wonderful job."

     The young Cesaire shook her head within an instant and was quick to correct.

     "Do not thank me. My friend, Marinette, is responsible for this dress. She put her heart and soul into it, to make it perfect for your wife. I hope she shares your sentiments."

     He folded the garment with careful hands and placed it within a crochet bag. "I'm sure she will. Send Madame Marinette my regards."

     She giggled and met his perplexed gaze.

     "I will let her know. I am certain she will appreciate it."

     Monsieur Dupain gave a sorry smile and motioned to the bakery displays behind him. His hands were coated in flour and the chaos of bread making could be heard from the kitchen, the smell of yeast prevalent in the air.

     "I'm sorry, we've been out of town recently and still proofing the bread. If I'd known they'd send an Agreste, I would have come home sooner." He laughed heartily and Adrien was eased into laughing along with the burly man. His wife looked up at the mention of the family and stopped dusting the counters to insist him into taking some confectionary from Britain. 

     "It's to make up for the inconvenience. Please take some and share with Madame Agreste."

     He would be sure to, he had told them, and the baker urged the workers in the back to hurry, before joining them himself.