Out of Sight by Isabelle Grey Read Free Book Online Page A

square before returning to the stuffy office. She was sure Gaby, who insisted on the finest and freshest ingredients, would not object; indeed, they’d probably bump into one another at the busiest of the charcuterie stalls. Leonie made a first circuit to see what fruit and vegetables were in season, making mental notes of which seller had the best greengages and corn on the cob.
    She was on her way back around, beginning to enjoythe clamour and the easeful warmth of the sun on her back, when she spotted Patrice buying chanterelles at the stall that she’d ear-marked to buy some for herself. What to do? If she continued as she had intended, he might imagine she had engineered a meeting. After the abortive phone call this morning, it would look like she was stalking him! On the other hand, why should his presence force her to alter her natural behaviour? As though reading her mind, he turned his head, spotted her and beckoned her over.
    â€˜Hello! These look really good. Let me get you some.’
    The artlessness of his offer made her regard her thought processes as conniving and artificial, and she stood there like an idiot while he bought a second bag of mushrooms. Their hands brushed as he handed it to her, his blue eyes sparkling into hers.
    â€˜Here. A taste of autumn. Enjoy.’
    Before she could even mumble her thanks, he turned and wove away through the crowd. She stayed put, and asked for a couple of corn-cobs while she willed the hot blush to fade from her cheeks.
    When she dared to look again in his direction, he was gone. Dazed, she carried on with her shopping, but the allure of the ripe fruits had faded, and she bought mechanically, smiling only from politeness. Carrying her bags, she made for Gaby’s office, where she could hide her shame and the ringing phones would banish her confusion.
    But Gaby already had fresh intelligence from hersister-in-law to impart. A friend of Sylviane’s, Catherine, had been close to Agnès at school. When Agnès used to send Patrice to stay with his grandmother, Catherine would ask the boy over to play with her children, who were the same age and all seemed to get on well. But Madame Broyard nearly always made difficulties about it, and never invited Catherine’s children in return. Though their kids had been given little chance to become friends, Catherine and Agnès had managed to remain in touch for over thirty years, and would always catch up whenever Agnès visited her mother, which she had done diligently once or twice a year.
    â€˜Patrice must’ve come too, at least once in a while, to see his grandmother?’ suggested Leonie.
    Gaby shook her head. ‘Apparently not. And,’ she added with emphasis, ‘when Agnès and her husband came for the funeral, Agnès barely spoke to anyone, then left without even seeing Catherine. Catherine’s not had a single word from Agnès since; she’s actually extremely put out. Thierry wonders whether there might have been some disagreement over the will,’ Gaby continued with relish. ‘Madame Broyard apparently left almost nothing to her daughter. Although Catherine thinks that may be because Agnès was perfectly well provided for by her husband, and this way she would’ve been saved the bother of disposing of everything.’
    â€˜So Patrice didn’t come for the funeral?’ queried Leonie.
    â€˜Not that Catherine knew of. Which also makes it all the more odd that Madame Broyard chose to leave her house to him.’
    It was clear to Leonie that the subject had been thoroughly discussed amongst Gaby’s family and friends. While she didn’t want to miss out on any possible scrap of gossip that might shed some light on her elusive new friend, she resolved to be extra careful in what she chose to tell Gaby from now on. Especially when Gaby declared, ‘We’ll all have to rely on you to find out for us, sweetie!’
    When Leonie reached