Chateau of Secrets: A Novel Read Online Free Page B

“Between school and the campaign, it’s never a good time to talk with you.”
    “I’ll have more time starting Monday.”
    “Oh, good.” Mom paused. “Because your dad and I need you to do something next week.”
    I drummed my fingers against my dress. “What exactly do you need me to do?”
    “We need you . . .” She hesitated. “Well, we need you to go to France.”
    “France?” The word came out as a shout. I stepped farther back into the hallway. My father was from France, and I’d spent two summers after college touring Paris and southern France. I loved everything about the country, but I couldn’t go back now, nine weeks before my wedding.
    My mom talked faster now. “Have you heard of Riley Holtz?”
    “The name sounds familiar—”
    “He’s won all sorts of awards for his documentaries about historical events and he wants to film part of his new documentary at the château.”
    I switched the phone to my left ear, confused. The Château d’Epines was my grandmother’s childhood home in Normandy, a grand fortress of beauty and legend that had captivated me since I was a girl. I’d only been there once, when I was eight years old. My grandmother wanted to honor her brother, Michel, with a tombstone in the family’s cemetery, by the old chapel. My parents wanted to go with her, but for some reason, Grandpa hadn’t been able to travel with us.
    My family had spent an hour with a priest at a chapel, honoring Michel’s life, and then we’d left without going inside the château. Philippe—my third cousin, multiple times removed—lived there with his wife and son. I remembered Dad saying he wished someone would remove Philippe from our family altogether.
    But Philippe was gone now and so were the three wives he’d accumulated over the years. His son, Stéphane, had lived at the château until his father’s death. After he moved to Paris, Stéphane sent regular letters to my grandmother, asking if he could return to the Château d’Epines.
    My dad hadn’t wanted to visit his childhood home since that trip years ago.
    I tightened the grip on my phone, trying to focus. I only had two minutes, maybe less, before Austin took the stage. “What does the documentary have to do with the château?”
    “Mr. Holtz wants to hear the stories from World War II.”
    I leaned back against the walls, which were striped with a muddy yellow and white. I knew plenty of stories about the château but very little from the years during the war. “I wish Mémé could tell him.”
    “Me too.”
    It was too late to ask her now. Even though her body was plenty strong, her mind had failed. “Why can’t Stéphane handle it?” I asked. “Or the caretakers Dad hired?”
    My mom cleared her throat. “Your dad doesn’t want Stéphane back on the property, and this gentleman wants to talk to someone in the family.”
    “Then Dad should go—”
    “He has to be in DC on Tuesday.”
    “This Tuesday?” My retort came out as more of a squeak.
    “We thought you would be perfect—”
    “I have nine weeks to plan a wedding!”
    “The planning will be here when you return.”
    My mind whirled. Going back to the château was a dream of mine, but the timing was terrible. Austin would be frustrated if I even entertained the idea of leaving the country, and I couldn’t blame him. The next weeks were pivotal to the campaign.
    “I would go in a heartbeat if I could, Mom, but there’s so much to do—”
    “Your dad really wants you to do this,” she whispered.
    “But why now—” Austin’s voice thundered over the speakers, and I rushed out of the hallway. “I really have to go, Mom. Austin’s about to introduce me.”
    Slipping my phone back into my bag, I hurried back toward the ballroom, but as I neared the door, one of my stilettos rebelled and my ankle teetered. My hands flailed until I caught myself on a railing, and with my ankle throbbing, I reached down and freed my foot from the straps.
    The