Chapter Nineteen

ACACIA’S ROOM WAS ON THE SECOND FLOOR and had a balcony that overlooked the swimming pool and the tennis courts. Through the windows, she had an exceptional view of the Alps.

Juliet drew back the curtains and opened the balcony door, allowing a refreshing summer breeze inside.

She unfolded a luggage rack and gestured for Gretle to place Acacia’s suitcase atop it. “Thank you, Gretle.”

She bobbed her head and withdrew.

Juliet switched on a lamp that sat on a side table adjacent to the large bed. “Gretle will bring your breakfast tray and unpack for you.”

“That isn’t necessary. I didn’t bring much.” Acacia smiled at Juliet and placed her briefcase on a desk that stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows. The view of Mont Blanc was breathtaking.

“Very good.” Juliet opened a door to the left of the bed. “This is the closet. If you need anything pressed or cleaned, please speak to Gretle.”

Juliet crossed over to the desk and touched the telephone. “Line one is an internal line and will ring downstairs. Line two is an external line. The wireless password is recorded here.” She pointed to a piece of paper on the desk.

“Thank you,” Acacia murmured.

“The dining room is downstairs, and dinner will be served at seven o’clock. Do you have any dietary restrictions?”

“No.”

Juliet gestured to a doorknob that seemed affixed to the wall near to the bed. “The bathroom is behind that wall. Just turn the knob.

“Rest well.”

Acacia thanked Juliet again and watched as she exited and closed the door soundlessly behind her.

She heaved a sigh of relief, unaccustomed to being on the receiving end of service.

She removed her jacket and walked out onto the balcony. A trellis, covered with vines, climbed the outside of the balcony. She tested its strength. It wasn’t clear it would support her weight, but it was the simplest way of escape, should she need it.

She surveyed the grounds before she went inside and closed the door. She locked it and pulled the curtains. It was a shame to block such a view, but she needed darkness in order to sleep.

The room was very large, with cream-colored walls and heavy, blue damask curtains. An expansive rug that matched the window dressings covered the parquet floor.

The furniture appeared to be antique. The bed had a high, tufted, blue velvet headboard. Something resembling a crown was situated above the bed, from which blue damask curtains fell, draping to the floor in two large swags.

The bed coverings were blue silk, and at the foot of the bed was a small, backless couch with rolled arms, upholstered in blue velvet.

Acacia was admiring an antique gold clock on top of the marble mantelpiece when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” she called.

Gretle, who appeared to be in her early twenties, entered the room carrying an elaborate breakfast tray.

Acacia greeted her with a smile. “Thank you. If you’d just place it on the table.”

Gretle nodded shyly and completed the task before she withdrew.

Finally left to her solitude, Acacia yawned. She was exhausted, but not too tired to make sure her room was secure. She checked all the windows to ensure they were locked, and she locked the door to her room and braced the desk chair under the door handle.

Satisfied that anyone wanting to get in would find it difficult, she opened her laptop and connected to the wireless network. She typed a short, polite email to Monsieur Roy, copying the Human Resources department, which stated that she was ill and wouldn’t be at work that evening.

She wondered what kind of reaction that would elicit.

She texted Kate and told her she was in Cologny and provided her with the telephone number she found printed on the house telephone.

Luc had left more than one message. In each, his voice grew increasingly alarmed. Acacia felt a pang of regret at worrying him, but only a pang. Her safety was her chief concern.

She typed out a text and sent it to him.

I needed a break from everything.
I’ve left Paris for a few days.

Acacia knew he’d call her as soon as he received her message, so she switched off her phone.

She regarded her breakfast. There were eggs and toast, fresh fruit, chocolate, and a carafe of coffee. Acacia skipped the coffee and drank the orange juice, but she only nibbled the food. It was possible, she reasoned, that the items had been tampered with.

Afterward, she began unpacking. She retrieved Marcel’s journal from her briefcase and looked around, trying to find a hiding place. Eventually, she lifted the mattress and placed it on top of the bed frame. The mattress would hide the journal well enough.

She needed a shower.

In Brazil, it was common to shower several times a day. Acacia averred that Brazilians were probably the cleanest people on Earth.

She reached for the doorknob, which turned easily in her hand, and a door swung inward.

Acacia stepped into a bright, white marble bathroom with a spacious, modern shower.

“Heaven,” she whispered.

For the moment, at least, she was safe.