The rose is fairest when 't is budding new, And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears; The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew. And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears.

Slamming the book shut, I stare unhappily at the old volume, the rain incessantly drumming on the cafe window.

What did Sir Walter Scott know anyway? I think back to my date with Colin, and our Arthurian connection, me with Lady of the Lake, him with the movie he's starring in. Such an interesting coincidence. And running into each other twice in a foreign country. Fate. That's what he had said. He believed it was fate that brought us together again.

But then I think of Jake. With a sigh, I push the thoughts of yesterday out of my head. I've replayed what happened between Jake and me over and over - all last night into this morning, leaving me sleep-deprived and anxious. Jake probably hates me now, and I can't blame him.

My thoughts are interrupted by a familiar figure entering the cafe. Chloé smiles when she sees me in my corner spot before taking off her dripping coat and leaving her umbrella by the door.

"Pardon Lara! Désolé...er sorry to keep you."

"That's ok, thank you for meeting me despite the weather. I really appreciate it."

She takes a seat as a waiter comes over and takes Chloé's order and I order another espresso.

"You leave for America soon?" She asks once he's gone.

"Yes, tomorrow morning. So, I'm especially glad you could meet with me today."

Chloé nods and then gets right to the point. "Je suis familier..er I am familiar with my grand-mère's story. I need to ask ...er, detail from ma mère. She...uh, pleased to know about you Lara."

I'm happy to hear this. "She could have come as well; it would be nice to meet her."

shakes her head sadly. "Ma mère has difficulty to speak of ma grand-mère. She died when she was young."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. So, you never knew Adelaide?"

"No," she says simply. She reaches into her purse and brings out a wrapped package tied with twine. "She wants you to have these. They are letters from Elise."

I excitedly take the parcel from her. "I had no idea there were more letters! This is wonderful, please tell your mother thank you for me." I've only had a snippet of what Adelaide felt in that one letter, so to now have multiple letters from Mémé to her is more than I expected.

"They are in Française, you read...?"

"I can't read French no, but I have a friend that can translate for me. Tell your mother thank you. This means so very much to me."

Chloé smiles with a nod, "I am pleased."

Our coffee arrives and I take a sip of my espresso. "So, Chloé do you know something of the relationship between our grandmothers? You said you had heard the story? "

"Ah oui... they were friends at school in Paris. They were...inseparable." She places both hands over her heart for emphasis. "Adelaide did not finish school. She must return home. Her father, he died and there is no money uh...after. Her mother, she need help in pottery shop."

I nod my head not wanting to break the narrative of her story.

"Adelaide still meet with Elise after she leave school. She did not speak of her life before the war...but she speak of Elise, and this makes her happy."

"And they were just friends? I thought they might have been more than friends from the letter I found?"

"Ah, when you read.." She gestures towards the parcel. "The letters they say, yes more than friends."

I think for a moment of all the questions I've been saving up to ask. "Do you know how long umm.. their relationship lasted? I'm curious about the timeline. I know when my grandmother met and married my grandpa. I'm just trying to piece everything together."

Chloé knits her brows. "Hmm when your grand-mère er...marry your grand-père?"

"I don't know the exact date, but it would have been...well it was after WWII ended. I remember the story of France being liberated and my grandmother meeting my grandfather soon after at a party. I believe it was the fall of 1946?"

Chloé is silent for a moment while she takes a sip of her coffee. When she speaks she is very somber. "Adelaide and Elise knew each other when young. Before the war....before the camps."

"The camps?" I question.

"Oui - Adelaide and her family were Jewish."

"Oh, I wasn't aware." I clear my throat. "So, are you saying...did Adelaide and her family....?" I trail off not sure how to ask what is unfathomable to think of, much less ask.

"They were...how you say...umm taken from their homes, er....separated."

I grimace. "I'm so sorry."

"Ma mère, she tell me Adelaide was taken in 1942 to camp in Germany. She never again see her family. She never again see Elise."

"She was deported?"

"Oui...er yes they...how you say deport Jews to camps in Germany, no matter if they are French citizens...they are Jews...," she shrugs her shoulders sadly, "is all that matter."

I know this to be part of history, yet hearing firsthand about someone that went through this - someone that knew and loved Mémé is hard to swallow. Mémé had told me what it was like for her here in France during the war...but she wasn't Jewish. She hadn't known what it was like to be systematically targeted and forced from her home, and worse.

Chloé continues, "Adelaide was free after the war. She...make a new life for herself. Never return."

I think about this for a moment but there are still pieces of the puzzle missing. "How did your family come to be in this area again then?" I ask.

"Ah, ma mère...after she marries, they come to live in Lannion."

"So, Adelaide and my grandmother never saw each other after the war? That's disheartening."

I pause for a moment thinking. "Chloé, in my grandmother's cottage in Locquirec there is a lot of pottery by Adelaide, and this is what led me to speak with you in the first place. I wonder how she came to own it since they didn't see each other after the war?" I make a mental note to look into the exact year the cottage was purchased by Mémé since it's possible she owned it for some time.

She nods her head with understanding. "How you say...Un inconnu...uh, unknown? Person make...uh, the request from my family to purchase all the pottery. Your grand-mère the one to make such a request?"

"So an unknown or anonymous buyer purchased all of Adelaide's pottery, you're saying after the war?"

"Oui," she confirms. "I keep some uh, pieces - I do not sell all."

The dots are starting to connect. "So when did Adelaide make all this pottery? Before the war?"

"Oui, the pottery...uh, it is kept safe with neighbors...during the war. No damage." She continues, "It was er....very generous...the money given from buyer. This is how I open my shop."

"It does make sense with everything you're saying that it was my grandmother, especially with all that she owned. Maybe she purchased them to have a part of Adelaide around her." If this was true, I think, it is certainly bittersweet. "One thing you said has been on my mind. You said Adelaide died of a broken heart? What did you mean by that?

"Oui, ma mère always say this.... Adelaide heartbroken after the war, no family no friends. She married yes...she er...make new life, but never recover. She have many hard things in her mind to...overcome. And she lose her whole family. So, her heart, it is broken always."

I'm curious if there's more to it than that. "So, my grandmother didn't have anything to do with it?"

Chloé shrugs, "I do not know. This is all the story I know. She was sad to not see Elise again. Ma mère, she remembers Adelaide as good to her...but always sad."

I let this sink in. The air around us suddenly feels heavy, as if the ghost of Adelaide has come to sit with us.

Finally breaking the silence, I say, "Thank you so much for meeting with me, Chloé. Please tell your mother thank you for letting me know about Adelaide and your family. And for the letters. I deeply appreciate it."

"My pleasure. So happy to meet you, Lara. We will stay in touch, yes?"

"I'd like that," I answer warmly.

Chloé finishes her coffee and then leaves with wishes for a safe flight. After she's gone I sit for a moment thinking about what I've learned. The rain continues to beat against the roof, the incessant clamor adding to the buzzing in my head. There's something not connecting but I can't make out what. Or maybe it's that I was expecting something different, a story with a different outcome. The reality was so incredibly sad, for Adelaide especially...she lost so much.

My fingers absently fiddle with the twine on the parcel while I think. Maybe the letters will tell me more?

~*~

Picking up the box from the locksmith shop, it was all I could do to not open the box right there in the shop. But since he was closing for the evening, I tucked it under my jacket and made my way back out into the rain.

Back at the cottage I forgo making a fire and curl up with a blanket on the couch instead, the box in my lap. The lid lifts with ease now and I find myself staring at an assortment of random items.

The first item I take out seems fragile, so I gingerly lift it and place it carefully in the palm of my hand. Wrapped in wax paper is a single pressed rose, now separated in pieces.

"Dammit Jake," I curse under my breath. I knew he shouldn't have been shaking this box so much.

I place this carefully on the coffee table and remove the next item, a tiny empty perfume bottle, the type with a dropper. Bringing it to my nose, it just smells musty and I sneeze.

The next item is a black and white photograph. I stare at it for a moment, examining all the details, trying to decipher what exactly is going on. I recognize Mémé when she was young - her hair done up beautifully with flowers - wearing a lovely dress. The girl beside her must be Adelaide. She resembles the picture I had seen of Adelaide in Chloé's shop. I can't decide if this was a photo from their school years or after, but both of them look so happy, their hands clasped together, smiling. I flip the photo over but there is no writing on the back to give me a clue.

Next, I pull out a lady's handkerchief, now slightly yellowed on the edges, a single rose embroidered in the corner with the initials E.B. Mémé's initials. The final item is a small, leather book. I carefully open it and realize it's possibly a diary. The very first page has the name Elise written on it. Gently flipping through the pages, I note there are a dozen or so entries all in French.

For not the first time I find myself wishing Mémé herself were here to tell me in person her version of the story. But at least I found what l think is a diary because that's as close as I'll get.

I wonder why this box was left in that crawl space. Why didn't she leave this box with the rest of her belongings that went to my mother? Maybe she didn't trust anyone with her secret and hid it?

With more answers just come more questions, I realize with a sigh.

Shivering against the cold in the house I get up to make a fire. By the time I'm done building the fire, it's late and I still have to pack.

An idea comes to mind regarding all my findings today. I send Juliette a text, *I have another favor to ask you. Found more letters and a possible diary. All in French. Can I stop by your place in the morning on my way to the airport?*

As I carefully place everything back in the box, I notice one more item that I hadn't seen before.

It's a letter, stuck to the bottom of the box. The envelope is addressed to Elise from Adelaide, but to the Paris address she lived at with my grandfather. That's odd, I think. That doesn't match up with what Chloé said about Mémé and Adelaide not seeing each other after the war.

The letter is written in French, as expected, but when I slide it back in the envelope, I realize there's something else in there. As I turn the envelope upside down, two simple, gold rings drop into the palm of my hand.