Aubrielle's Call by C. Marie Bowen Page A

down the dark hall to her room and stood at the window overlooking the back gate. Papa grew worse each day, one moment anxious and the next angry, unable to follow a simple conversation. At times, he believed Aubrielle to be her mother. They could not afford a physician, and even if they could, there was no cure for Mad Hatter’s disease.
    Tomorrow she would sell the last of her flowers. Truthfully, she intended to give them away if there were no buyers. No doubt Henri would attempt to persuade her to continue to sell his wares, but she would be firm. Mrs. Moroney’s offer to let her sell baked goods appealed to her. What she didn’t sell could be put in the day-old bin in the store. No more dying flowers to throw away.
    Across the alleyway, a light came on in an upstairs room and caught her attention. The familiar outline of a tall man stood framed in the light.
    Aubrielle gasped and drew back from the window even though he couldn’t see her in the darkened room. She pulled the curtain closed and peeked around the edge.
    The tall shadow paced away from the window, only to return a moment later.
    Unwilling to turn on her light, she undressed in the dark and crawled between the sheets.
    Had the tall man followed her?
    She rolled over and stared at the closed curtains.
    I must be imagining things.
    She would keep a look out for the man tomorrow, and if she saw him, she would report him to the préfecture de police. Although she tried, she couldn’t remember the details of his face.
    The next morning, she left the house just after Tante Mae arrived with a basket of croissants. Folded into a napkin, the flaky pastry Mae had given her warmed Aubrielle’s pocket as she crossed the bridge and walked along the river with a lighter heart. Yesterday’s fears had evaporated like the fog. She didn’t care that her flowers had wilted a bit more overnight. She would give them away if she had to. Today would be the last day she and Éclair would sell dying flowers in the park.
    After Éclair had his feedbag, Aubrielle pulled the pastry from her pocket, broke off a small piece and popped it in her mouth. As usual, the park was empty except for the vendors and a few residents enjoying the bright morning. The man she had glimpsed in the third-floor window last night remained a mystery, his large form nowhere to be found. At noon, she handed out small bouquets of flowers to soldiers and homemakers cutting through the park.
    She took her time in the afternoon, walking the half-circle paths that meandered to the edge of the park, beneath the colorful autumn trees before returning to the avenue. Aubrielle and Éclair waited for two cars to pass, then crossed the roadway and continued in the direction of the École Militaire. There would certainly be more soldiers near the military school to present with flowers.
    With her cart nearly empty, she turned Éclair north, along another arching path, toward the exit to the park and home.
    “Aubrielle!” Out of breath, Henri jogged up to her cart and graced her with his most flirtatious smile. “I didn’t know to look this far from the tower. I couldn’t find you.” He gestured to her depleted flower display. “You’ve had a good day?”
    “ Non . I gave them away.” She took Éclair’s lead and scratched the mane between his ears. “I’ve decided not to sell flowers anymore, Henri. I’m sorry.”
    “What do you mean?” Henri paced away, then turned back as he pushed his shock of blond hair back from his face. “You cannot quit. If I do not sell the remaining stock, I will lose my broker position.” He inhaled deeply, rested his hands on his hips and softened his voice. “Aubrielle, the petals of these lilies are so exquisite, their fragrance so rare, that their scent will make you cry. I promise you, people will fight to have a bouquet from your cart.”
    “Who will fight, Henri?” She shook her head. “There is no one here. Besides, I have no means to buy your exquisite