Liese worried about both her sons constantly, for different reasons. Javier was destroying any chance he had for a good life, and he was affecting Joachim’s life from a distance, with the grief of having lost his twin. Joachim doubted he would ever see Javier again and, at the same time, always hoped he would, and Javier would magically reappear, which never happened.
Liese had to make her own peace with having a son she might never see again. She prayed every day that he was still alive. Some sixth sense gave her the feeling that he was, and Joachim had the same intuition that somewhere out in the world, his brother was still living, but they had no way to verify it. The detective had found no trace of him during his last mission for them. Javier had vanished.
Liese had had her share of grief in her lifetime, the loss of her father and then her husband only months later, and then Javier’s determined disappearance. Then eight years after she came to Paris, Francois died quietly in his sleep, lying beside her. A massive stroke was the cause of death. He was only seventy-four years old, but mercifully, he had died peacefully, hadn’t fallen ill, and hadn’t suffered. And Liese was a widow again at sixty-four. She was still passionately engaged in her work for the organization that located lost and stolen artwork in order to return it and had no desire to retire. She was healthy and strong, and loved going to work every day. Francois had still been working as an expert at the Louvre, but he had been tired lately, and thinking of retiring, and now he was gone.
He left almost everything he had to Liese, since he had no children or relatives. He had a very decent insurance policy he had taken out when he’d married her. And he had left a nice amount of money to Joachim, not enough to go crazy with, but he wouldn’t have anyway. Francois knew that about him. It was enough for Joachim to buy himself a small apartment, nicer than the ugly one he rented, or study somewhere abroad, if he wished to. Francois gave him a little start in life. He had hoped that Joachim would go back to school, to learn a trade or pursue a career of some kind, but he hadn’t. The loss of his twin had been a huge blow and took him years to adjust to. There were girls in his life, but they never lasted long. And he never got deeply attached to any of them. Having lost Javier, he seemed to have a hard time getting close to anyone, for fear of losing them too. At twenty-five, he had no particular direction and hadn’t found a career that inspired him, only the temporary jobs he took as filler. He was just passing time. Liese and Francois had talked about it a great deal, and Francois had been as concerned as any father would have been. Joachim had been lucky that his mother had married a man with a big heart who had wanted to take him under his wing, although Javier had thrown them all off balance. Liese always wondered if Joachim was just waiting for Javier to return.
Liese continued working after Francois died, with no intention of retiring. More than ever, she needed her job now. It gave her some purpose in life, a place to go every day, and contact with people. She was doing some good, or trying to, tracking down art and returning it to people who had been so severely wronged. She felt as though she was part of some form of justice, compensating in some small degree for all that had been lost or taken from them, most of it so enormous that no one could ever really make it up to them. But what she was able to return to them gave them something, and in some cases, with important works of art, it gave them an object of great monetary value. She was only a child when most of the art had been taken from them, or their relatives, during the war, but at least as an adult, she could be part of the restitution. It was very meaningful work for her, and she was proud of what she was doing. And Francois had been proud of her.
Joachim was shocked that Francois had left him anything at all and was deeply touched by it. Two months after he died, with his new inheritance, Joachim was having Sunday lunch with his mother at her apartment and saw an ad in the newspaper that intrigued him. He folded the paper and handed it to his mother, who looked at the page blankly. She couldn’t see why he had shown it to her. She didn’t see anything of interest.
“What am I supposed to look at?” she asked. They were both still shocked to have lost Francois, and Joachim had been checking on her a lot, to make sure she was all right. They were both doing the best they could to get used to it. He had been a benevolent force in both their lives, a truly kind and loving man. And Joachim knew how lonely she was without him.
Joachim pointed to the newspaper. It was a fairly large ad for a butler school in England.
“That?” She looked surprised and he nodded. “Butler school? Why would you want to do that?” It sounded like another dead end to her, like all the jobs he had had since he’d dropped out of the Sorbonne.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I do. But it sounds like fun, at least for a while anyway. Like a part in a movie.” He was twenty-five years old, and wanted a job that was fun, and so far none had been. He had no passions, like his mother’s love of art, or Francois’s. All he had was a bright mind, the strength of youth, and the fact that he spoke four languages, which wasn’t unusual in Europe. Many people did.
“You don’t need a part in a movie,” she said, frowning. “You need a real job, a career, something you’ll want to do at forty or fifty. Why would you want to be a butler? What gave you that idea?”
“The ad makes it sound interesting. You learn to run a fine home, have a supervisory position over other staff, how to take care of silver, fine porcelain, and antiques, and impeccable service, how to serve at table. It sounds like a very varied and responsible job.”
“Those days are gone,” she reminded him. “Everyone had formal staff, in full uniform, in Argentina when I was a girl. I’m sure no one there does now. And I don’t think anyone has a butler here either.”
“They have them in England. That’s where the school is. The course lasts six months, it might be fun.”
“Would you want to work in England?” She was surprised. He was so Latin by nature. He’d been in France for eight years by then and was at home there.
“I don’t know where I want to work, or what I want to do. But I’ve got time to spare. I’m only twenty-five, Mom. I can afford to waste six months of my life, especially now, thanks to Francois.” He was frustrated by his own lack of direction, but nothing interested him and there was nothing he wanted to do.
“I don’t think he intended the money for you to study for a job you’ll never want.”
“Maybe I will want it. Maybe being the head man in a grand house would be interesting.”
“You need to do more in life than learn how to set a table,” she said sternly.
“I don’t think I’d mind a life of service. I kind of like the idea of keeping people’s lives in good order. I wouldn’t mind that at all, especially if the house is impressive. I have nothing else to do at the moment, and shoving furniture around at the auction house has no future either. It’s a laborer’s job. I don’t like leaving you, though. I could come home on weekends, while I’m taking the course.”
“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine,” she said bravely. She wasn’t fine, but she thought that eventually she would be. And she didn’t want to stand in his way or be a burden to him. She just thought that being a butler sounded like a crazy idea with no future.