RENEWAL
follows "Show and Tell"

               ***March 27, 2024***

"Come in!" Alexandra Eames Goren called, switching on the coffee maker and then meeting Noémie Pepin with open arms as the back door opened, revealing a smiling young woman with dancing brown eyes and dark curling hair down her back. She held a bouquet of daisies and black-eyed susans in one hand and her purse in the other so that, as they hugged, the leaves tickled Alex under the chin, but she just laughed. "It's so good to see you again."

Behind her, Laurent Pepin stood smiling, his thumbs looped in the belt of his jeans, a man in his early 30s who resembled 60s film star Jean-Pierre Aumont, complete with thick dark hair. He nodded his head at Robert Goren, who stood smiling at the opposite side of the small kitchen of their home in Milbury, Connecticut, a space instantly made more crowded by the family collie, Sam, a stocky tricolor, who pushed his way past Bobby to greet the arrivals, woofing happily. Alex and Noémie stepped aside to let Laurent inside.

When he finished greeting the excited dog, Laurent skirted Alex and Noémie to hug Bobby and announce, "We have news!"

"Oh, yes!" Noémie said brightly, breaking up her tête-à-tête with Alex. "Just before we left-"

"You see a man once more gainfully employed," Laurent proclaimed expansively, his dark blue eyes alight. "Starting on Tuesday."

"Congratulations! Is this the position at Hydro-Québec you talked about?" Bobby asked, pulling out a chair for Noémie. The gateleg table was already extended and set for five: spoons, dessert plates, forks, napkins, and a coffee cake from Longfellows Bakery in Southbury. Noémie noticed there was already a bouquet on the table, an arrangement of pussy willows, and the flowers drooped in her hand. Alex took them and said softly, "Those will look perfect on the cabinet in the living room," and went about pouring water and putting them in a vase.

"No, I decided against that one, and the Siemens position as well. The work that most intrigued me at Duplantix was the work I was not permitted to do. Maman wanted me to concentrate on administration, while what intrigued me was...what you call 'the nuts and bolts' of alternative energy sources," Laurent said, "the patents Maman so jealously guarded. I wanted to work with a company focusing more on those alternative sources, so I chose a smaller establishment: Énergies du Bouclier. Bouclier, the employees call it. The salary they offered was lower than either Siemens or Hydro, but it was enough with Noémie's wages for the two of us, especially since the home we inherited from mon père has no mortgage on it." He added, amused, "We can save up for the taxes instead."

"You've found a job as well, Noémie?" asked Alex as she collected two more coffee mugs from the cupboard.

"It is...what you call 'nepotism,'" Noémie laughed. "My Papa has me employed in his North American office. But it is my work, what I've always done."

Laurent added, "So you will come to visit for St. Jean Baptiste Day? That is in June. It is like a summer solstice celebration, and petite soeur will enjoy it."

There was a tiny, uncomfortable pause since the fifth chair was still empty, so Bobby filled in the silence by asking, "How is your sister Stéphanie?"

"Still in deep depression," Laurent said, looking grim, as Alex waved them into chairs. "I do not understand why Agathe did this to her. Our father raised us largely prejudice-free, and Maman only showed her true colors to all of us on that broadcast. Agathe knows Stéphie is no Nazi, no anti-Semite! I believe she did it as a coward's move, believing Stéphanie would be censured publicly and she would experience the fallout. But Stéphie's employer has stood by her. He believes in her!

"Yves and Morgane are back in Paris—they returned three weeks after Maman's revelation. He made a statement to the newspapers, not to mention a very public donation to an anti-defamation organization, and his Jewish business associates spoke up for him. Things have been...awkward, but no more threats or violence have occurred."

"And your mother?" Alex asked. "Coffee? We also have tea and herbal teas."

"Yes, coffee, please," Noémie said, and Laurent agreed. "Tatine Béatrice appears to have spirited Maman away. Maybe she is cloistered with Uncle Maxi," he added dismissively, "who I will wager is laughing through his teeth."

Bobby had sat down, too, eyes shrewdly on the other man. "What about–"

"–my sperm donor?" answered Laurent with a raised eyebrow. "Achard has...poof!" He opened his right hand with a pop like a magician producing smoke. "Not a sign of him. His office is locked, I am told, with a fermé jusqu'à nouvel ordre placard." He added for Alex's benefit, "Closed until further notice."

The coffee machine beeped, and Bobby rose to take the milk and oat milk from the refrigerator and pushed the sugar bowl into the center of the table next to the coffee cake. Alex brought the pot to the table and set it on a braided rabbit-and-Easter-egg trivet. Bobby sliced cake for each of them, and they then sipped coffee and discussed the weekend plans.

Finally, Laurent set his empty cup down, having not touched his cake, looking at the very evident empty place at the table. "Still ma petite soeur does not come? Have I done something wrong? She has sent me only one e-mail since Maman shocked the BBC audience a month ago."

"You've done nothing," Bobby said with a sigh. "It was Madame who did the damage with what she revealed about your parentage."

Alex tilted her head at Bobby. "Should I go get her?" but Laurent replied hastily, "No, non—I do not want her forced to see me! But I do not understand. Is she angry with me, then?"

"We had no idea Min hadn't written to you in the past month until last night when I asked if she had made any plans with you," Bobby explained with a sigh, resting his chin on his fist. "She said she hadn't discussed the weekend with you at all and then didn't want to talk about it. Maybe she's discussed this with her therapist, but she hasn't with us."

"Not angry," Alex added. "I think...she's afraid that you won't think of her as your sister any longer."

"Because of Maman's horrid words?" Laurent answered, appalled. "But I never–"

"From her point of view, another bit of her world came tumbling down," Bobby replied ruefully. "I tried to talk with her this morning, but she just gave that sigh as only a ten-year-old can and said, 'You don't understand, Papa.'"

Laurent stood up abruptly. "Where is the child? I cannot have her thinking such terrible things!"

Bobby rose and opened the basement door. "With her books, of course. Downstairs in her library, to the right."

Laurent descended the steep, painted stairs and turned to the right, where, in the corner by the exercise area, two regular bookcases and a corner shelf made up one-half of a square. The opposite half of the square was cornered by a small armchair flanked by a small table with a reading lamp. Olivia was curled up in the armchair, her book set aside, cuddling her smiling stuffed fox.

Laurent perched on the edge of the weight bench to regard her. "Bon après-midi, Olivia."

"Je suppose," she said with a sigh.

"We've just finished discussing the weekend itinerary. Your Papa and Mama have a busy Easter holiday planned for all of us."

"Yes." She stared at him now with solemn brown eyes.

Laurent sighed silently but soldiered on. "So tonight we have dinner at Shard and TJ's place, no? Bob said this is 'Open Mike Night' and a guitarist will play? And then tomorrow we were supposed to visit Boston, but because it will rain, instead we will take a drive along the seashore to Newport and see a big mansion from...what is called 'The Gilded Age' and then have our dinner at an Italian restaurant in Providence?"

"Yes, it's called Camille's. It's been open for over 100 years."

"And then on Friday, we will see the Freedom Trail and the Heritage Trail in Boston."

"It will be a little chilly." Olivia was apologetic.

"It is colder still in Quebec right now, filette. And as the Scandinavians say, there is no bad weather, only bad clothing."

For a moment, Olivia smiled, then nodded at him, now looking almost bashful. "You should come back and stay in Boston for a week at least. There's so much to do: a science museum, the aquarium, the art museum, the symphony, and next month the Swan Boats will open."

He knew how much she loved museums. "Noémie and I will have to remember, but it won't be soon. I start a new position next week and will have to wait until I am permitted a holiday. From now on I will have to sing for my supper."

She brightened. "You have a job!"

"Yes, one where I will work on the things that interest me, not one which someone dictates."

She understood now how much he had hated his work at Duplantix. "I'm glad."

"And then on Saturday, we visit Mr. Mark Twain's home, then meet Marc Thuringer for an airplane ride?"

"Yes. There's an aviation museum there, too, if you and Noémie wish to see it."

"We would rather spend time with you, and Bob and Alex." Laurent concluded, "And lastly, Sunday is the big feast in the city with your Mama's family."

"Yes," Olivia said in almost a whisper. "A big ham, potatoes, salad, carrots of course for the Easter rabbit, and something called a rice pie for dessert. Aunt Patty says it's an Italian specialty. You'll get to meet my cousins, including Eddie who Mama was a surrogate mother for."

"Then, alas, Noémie and I must leave. I wondered--by then will I still have to pry words from ma petite soeur?"

Now Olivia looked at him sadly. "But what Madame said– Am I? Still?"

Laurent stood up, this time with an audible sigh. "Mignon!" And she straightened up, too, at her first name. "So what you are saying is that Monsieur and Madame Goren are not your parents because they are not of your blood?"

"But that's different," Olivia said with a catch in her voice. "There was court...and signed papers..."

He crossed his arms in front of him and asked sternly, "Mignon, who taught you to ski at Chamonix?"

"Papa Marcel," Olivia said softly.

"And who taught you to snowshoe and," Laurent smiled briefly, "how to build the largest snow maiden on the slope?"

Olivia's smile flickered. "Papa Marcel."

"And how to swim, and dive, and snorkel at Nice?"

Now Olivia bit her lip. "Also Papa Marcel."

"Also to water ski, although I remember you weren't fond of that."

Olivia shook her head emphatically.

"And who scolded you if your manners were poor, and smiled when you behaved, and who always brought you a gift after he went to another country, 'for his good child'?"

"Papa Marcel," she said, blinking back tears.

"Well, he did that for me, too. And tucked me in bed when I was small and read me pirate stories when I was older and came with me to make sure I was settled into boarding school properly and made sure no one was bullying me." He squatted down so his eyes were level with hers. "The man...who provides the seeds is not always the farmer. It is the farmer who nurtures and watches things grow and cares for them until they are old enough to go on to their next role in life. Marcel Pepin was my father no matter who planted the seed. And you," he held out his hands, "are still my little sister."

Olivia pushed Captain the fox aside and then nestled in his arms, saying in a small voice, "Promise?"

"Promise."

Now she asked soberly, "How is Stéphanie?"

"Very sad," he answered truthfully. "And Yves...is Yves. You know he always lands on his feet."

She nodded with a little smile. "And...Madame?"

"Holed up with Aunt Béatrice, which probably makes her furious." He looked down on her gravely. "Her art collection is no more, and the paintings that belonged to others have gone back to their rightful homes." He paused. "I think Duplantier House will need to be sold, to make further amends."

She was silent for a moment, then looked up. "We did have some good times there." And then grinned. "Even if Madame insisted on a pink Christmas tree."

Laurent laughed. "I know. Quelle horreur! But we did have some good times," he agreed. "Now I would like to have a slice of the delicious cake your Mamà has so thoughtfully provided--but afterward, will you help Noémie and me get settled in to...what is it Bob calls it? A Murphy bed?"

"Yes! Mama brought you some books and other things to make you comfortable. I made a cross stitch for the wall that says 'Welcome'—you'll see."

"Once we are settled, we will walk the streets of Milbury and meet your adopted grandpere Bruno and the others before walking to the restaurant for dinner."

"And we'll have ice cream at Sweet Scoops for dessert!"

"But of course. Come on, upstairs now."

Olivia swooped her fox from the chair and scampered up ahead of him, with Laurent following, taking the steps two at a time.