Theory of Remainders by Scott Dominic Carpenter Read Free Book Online Page B

“That’s the expression in French. We’ll just have to brush up your idioms.”
“Welcome back to Yvetot,” said Yvonne.
“It’s good to be here,” he said. Platitudes. He had a storehouse of those at the ready. He looked around the room. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
“And still such an excellent liar,” Roger proclaimed.
There was one person Philip hadn’t met yet—the short, rather dapper man on the other side of Yvonne. The new husband.
“You must be Hair-vay ,” Philip said.
“ Er-vé ,” the fellow corrected with a broad smile, wagging his finger in the air. “Remember, my dear sir, the H is not pronounced in French.” He bowed his head to accept Philip’s unoffered thanks for the correction. “Dr. Hervé Legrand, at your service. Endocrinology. Infertility, mostly. Must say, I’m delighted to finally meet you. Awfully kind of you to make the trip.” Hervé clamped Philip’s hand in his own and shook. “I so look forward to speaking with you. Why don’t you sit over here by me?”
And before he could protest, Hervé had guided him away from Yvonne’s side, like a child being seated by the teacher’s desk. A first husband’s lot is ludicrous, just a hair’s breadth from that of the cuckold.
Roger beamed. “So good to have you back.”
“Is it?” Philip said.
“Of course! It was always so useful to have you in the family.” His eyes sparkled. “It kept their minds off me.”
Classic Roger. Part clown, part black sheep.
On the other side of Hervé, Yvonne leaned forward. “You had a good flight?” she wanted to know.
“Good enough.”
“And you’re staying . . . ?”
“At La Cauchoise.”
“That old trou à rats? ” Roger interjected as he checked the thermal pot for coffee. “Run by our local fossil, Bécot?” He poured himself a cup.
Philip turned back to Yvonne. “How was the funeral?”
It was Hervé who answered. “A pity you slept through it. Jet lag, I suppose? The ceremony was quite tasteful.”
Roger nearly spat out his coffee. “Tasteful?” he retorted. “That old crock of a priest, Cabot, he got mixed up in the service. Part of it he did twice. Everything was out of order. We didn’t know if we were coming or going. I tell you, if mother hadn’t already been dead, this would have finished her off.”
“Roger,” Évelyne said, as if shushing a child. “That’s not appropriate.”
He ignored her. “The worst of it is that we’ll probably find she left everything to the church. Wouldn’t that just take the cake.”
“Roger!” cried Évelyne.
He turned to his sister. “You know, you don’t have to keep squawking my name like that. I’m as sorry as anyone that she died, but you have to admit, it was a pretty hilarious funeral.”
Évelyne clamped her beak shut, not willing to admit anything of the sort.
Flora’s face squeezed out a pained expression. “ Please let’s try to get along,” she crooned.
The room roiled with tension, but when Philip exchanged a look with Yvonne, she let a flicker of humor show in her eyes. It was like old times. For Philip, an only child, initiation into the Aubert clan had been an introduction into wonderment.
There was a lull in the conversation. “So,” Philip said, “what exactly are we doing here?”
Various Auberts exchanged glances.
“Well,” Yvonne began. “It had to be today, I’m afraid. Flora and Pierre have to leave tomorrow.”
“ What had to be today?”
Évelyne squinched her nose. “Didn’t you tell him?”
Yvonne shrugged. “I wanted to explain in person. But then he missed the ceremony. And didn’t call last night. And, anyway, it’s not the kind of thing you do over the phone.”
Évelyne rolled her eyes.
“You know, Philip,” Roger began, “it’s terribly nice of you to show up, considering we’ve only invited you so you can give away your money.”
“My money?”
“Don’t put it that way,” Yvonne snapped at her brother. She turned to Philip. “Let me explain. There’s a