“You don't remember Daniel?”
The name struck him.
Daniel.
A flash.
A toddler sitting on a kitchen floor.
Wooden blocks.
A child laughing while Alex built a tower.
Alexandre covered his mouth.
“Oh God.”
Claire began crying again.
“You remember him?”
“I... I don't know.”
“He was two when we lost you.”
Alexandre looked at Julien.
“Where is he?”
Silence answered first.
Claire lowered her eyes.
“He died three years ago.”
Alexandre stared at her.
The joy of reunion collided violently with grief for a brother he had only just learned he had lost.
Julien watched him carefully.
“My dad's name was Daniel.”
Alexandre crouched in front of him.
For several seconds, he could not speak.
Finally, he whispered, “Then I wish I'd found you sooner.”
Julien studied his face.
“Are you really my uncle?”
“I think I am.”
“You look rich.”
Claire gasped softly.
“Julien!”
For the first time that morning, Alexandre laughed.
A genuine laugh.
“I've been told that.”
Julien glanced toward the black car.
“Is that yours?”
“Yes.”
“Grandma said having money doesn't mean you buy everything.”
Alexandre looked at Claire.
Despite the tears still covering her face, she smiled.
“She is right.”
Julien nodded seriously.
Then his stomach growled.
The sound was loud enough for all three of them to hear.
Claire's expression immediately filled with embarrassment.
Alexandre looked at the boy.
“When did you last eat?”
“We had soup yesterday.”
Claire interrupted.
“He ate.”
“Grandma gave me her half.”
Claire closed her eyes.
Alexandre looked at the folding table.
Then at the cracked cups.
Then at the woman who was his mother.
He finally understood why the locket had been there.
“You were going to sell it.”
Claire looked ashamed.
“I didn't want to.”
Alexandre picked up the necklace.
“How much?”
Her eyes widened.
“Alex—”
“How much were you asking?”
She hesitated.
“Twenty euros.”
He stared at her.
Twenty euros.
The last surviving object from his childhood had been placed on a Paris pavement for twenty euros because his mother needed to feed his nephew.
Alexandre's jaw tightened.
He closed the locket and placed it carefully in Claire's hand.
“This isn't for sale.”
She looked at him.
“Not anymore.”
Then he turned toward the bakery.
“Come with me.”
The bakery was warm.
Julien stopped just inside the door.
His eyes widened at the shelves.
Baguettes.
Croissants.
Pain au chocolat.
Fruit tarts.
Sandwiches.
Cakes.
The smell alone seemed to overwhelm him.
Alexandre watched his nephew stare at the food.
“Choose whatever you want.”
Julien looked at Claire.
She immediately shook her head.
“One sandwich.”
Alexandre raised an eyebrow.
“Mom.”
Claire froze.
The word still affected both of them.
He smiled.
“Today he gets to choose.”
Julien pointed cautiously.
“Can I have a croissant?”
“Yes.”
“And bread?”
“Yes.”
“And... cheese?”
“Yes.”
Julien's face brightened.
“And hot chocolate?”
Alexandre laughed.
“Definitely hot chocolate.”
Claire touched his arm.
“Alex, that's enough.”
He looked at her.
“No. It isn't.”
The answer was gentle, but something deeper lay beneath it.