The Red Brick Cellars: A Tolosa Mystery by R.W. Wallace Read Free Book Online

among the plane trees lining the street.
    Catherine was on the café’s terrace, which extended across most of the wide sidewalk. Out of the three rows of tables they’d fit in the space, she preferred one closest to the building to avoid being too close to passing cars and, more importantly, to avoid being bumped into by pedestrians walking past the café.
    As she waited for her ex-husband Maxime to show up for their rendezvous, she thought about ordering a tea. She would most likely need the comfort when she reminded Max that they had to sell the house he loved. Before she could signal the waiter, she spotted him coming up rue de la Concorde on his bike. He waved and smiled when he saw her and quickly attached his bike to one of the bike racks right next to the most outlying tables. Despite the feeling of frustration and underlying anger he now brought out every time she saw him, she still found him handsome. She’d always been attracted to what she considered the French archetype: slim, tall, dark hair, dark eyes, and strong nose. The sprinkle of gray in his hair only made him look more refined.
    Unfortunately, looks weren’t everything.
    Catherine stood as he approached. He looked chipper. She had a sinking feeling this meeting was going to be as emotionally taxing as the previous ones. When he reached her table, Maxime leaned in to give her a kiss. Luckily, she was used to this by now and saw the disaster coming. She turned her head at the last second, and he ended up kissing her cheek. She did the same, and before he could recoup, kissed his other cheek.
    “We’re not married anymore,” she rebuked, talking soft enough that the people at the next table wouldn’t hear. “Remember? The divorce was finalized two weeks ago.”
    “Right,” Max said. He smiled so wide she could see his two crooked bottom incisors. “Old habits die hard.”
    Catherine pushed the second chair over to the opposite side of the table and sat back down. She wanted some distance and the opportunity to read him properly.
    “I was so happy to get your text,” Max said as he dropped his phone, lighter, and wallet on the small round table. “And I read your article in today’s paper. It was brilliant! I’m thrilled you want to celebrate with me.” He caught the attention of the waiter. “I’ll have a coffee, please. And Madame will have a tea with milk and sugar, and probably some cake.” He turned back to Catherine. “You do want cake, right, mon cœur ?”
    Deep breath. Count to ten. Decide if she wanted cake more, or to make a scene and drill home that she was not his Madame anymore, she was not his sweetheart, and he needed to move on. Since she had received her paycheck the day before and was therefore once again well fed, the temptation to finally allow herself something sweet won out. She could get her cake and yell at her ex-husband.
    “I’ll have a chocolate brownie, please,” she ground out between clenched teeth.
    The waiter repeated their order. “Un café, un thé au sucre et au lait, et un brownies.”
    Catherine shuddered. She couldn’t get used to the French adopting the word brownie, but always using it in plural form. So she always had to buy one brownies. They even corrected her on occasion.
    Once the waiter was out of earshot, she pounced. “When are you going to get it into your thick head that we are divorced?” She kept her voice down, but there could be no mistaking her anger.
    It had been like this all through their marriage. He had always treated her like she was a baby or an invalid, doing things for her that she was perfectly capable of doing herself. Like opening doors, carrying grocery bags, or deciding what she would eat at a restaurant. Stifled, Catherine needed to get out. After three years of marriage, she filed for divorce.
    Max smiled like she was a teenager who didn’t want a parent to kiss her goodbye in front of her friends. “I’m sorry,” he said with no regret whatsoever. “Did