Read Online Colette and the Silver Samovar by Nancy Belgue - Free Book Online Page A

we’ve lost her forever…well, it terrifies me.”
    â€œWhat do you think it does to me?”
    â€œWere you able to track down the husband?”
    â€œNot yet. I went through the apartment and found the flight details, but I couldn’t find the name and address of his parents anywhere.”
    â€œWeren’t there any letters?”
    â€œNot that we could find. And Faizal is such a common name in Iran that it is going to be difficult to locate him.”
    â€œWhat about an address book?”
    â€œWell, you know Alice. She never was very organized. Her address book doesn’t have one entry for Iran.”
    â€œThere must be some way we can find him! What about where he worked? Do they know anything?”
    â€œNo. He never spoke of his family to them.”
    â€œThe consulate?”
    â€œThat takes time. I’m looking into it.”
    â€œYou mean he isn’t to be found anywhere?”
    â€œSince they don’t have an answering machine, Mrs. Singh has agreed to stay in the apartment as much as she can so that if Colette’s father phones, someone might be there to take the call and tell him what has happened.”
    â€œI can’t believe it! I can’t believe he didn’t leave an emergency number.”
    â€œI’m sure he did, Emily. I’m sure Alice knows where he can be reached. But as you know, we can’t ask her!”
    My grandmother started to sob. My grandfather’s voice dropped to a murmur.
    I put my hands over my ears and went back to my bedroom. I had seen a movie once about an underground spring called a geyser. When pressure builds up, the water just explodes, and that’s exactly how my sadness was inside me.
    When Grandpapa came to the door and told me that dinner was ready, I told him I wasn’t hungry.
    He sat beside me. I wanted to shout at him to go away, but then he picked up my hand and said, “Just give us a little time. Our hearts. Your grandmother’s heart…well, it’s broken. She doesn’t mean to be harsh. I would really appreciate it if you would come down for dinner,” he said, finally. “You need to eat.”
    â€œWill you take me to see her?” I demanded.
    â€œIf you want,” he said slowly. “I will take you to see her tomorrow.”
    I gripped his fingers. “Promise?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAre you going to tell Grandmama?”
    â€œI’ll have to,” he said.
    â€œShe won’t like it,” I told him.
    He hesitated, then said, “No, she won’t.”
    We stared at each other. He was taking my side. I remembered my father saying that a husband and wife should always stick together, and I realized that this was hard for my grandfather. I kissed his cheek. He put his hand over the spot where my kiss had landed.
    My grandmother had set the table in a great big dining room. Silver dishes glowed on the table. A golden clock tick-tocked on the sideboard. Grandpapa ate without speaking. My grandmother sipped from a glass of wine and didn’t speak. Her rings sparkled in the candlelight. I tried to eat, but the food stuck in my throat.
    I waited for Grandpapa to say something about taking me to see my mother, but he went to make some phone calls as soon as he’d finished eating. My grandmother left her food untouched, just like I did.
    â€œMay I be excused?” I asked.
    My grandmother glanced at my plate, opened her mouth to say something, but then looked at her own plate and nodded.
    I went into the hall. I started pushing open doors and peeking inside. A sign that said The Wrapping Room hung on one door. Inside was an entire wall of bins and drawers and rollers holding pretty papers. Jars of pencils, pens and paintbrushes sat on a large table.
    The next room was full of the kind of equipment you see in a gym. It even had a sauna. Before long, I found myself on the back porch. I thought of Ethelberta Jarvis sleeping on the floor,