with silver medallions. She’d bought some Campus boots as well, because she thought they would go with anything.
Calvin complimented his sister, saying, “I think you always look smashing, but I don’t think I can be so adventurous in my tastes. I’d feel too conspicuous.”
“You’re adventurous in your own way,” she told her brother. “I don’t know many people who run around the Serengeti with lions and wildebeests.”
Uncle Julien smiled warmly at his niece and nephew, reflecting what charming young adults they had turned out to be. “My brother did a superb job raising you children,” he told them unexpectedly. “Your parents did right in choosing Richard as your godfather. If I had raised you, you’d probably be spoiled little jet-setters by now.”
“I doubt that, Uncle,” Natalie assured him. “Your morals are much stricter than Uncle Richard’s in lots of ways. You may be more free with your money, but you’re infinitely more civilized.”
“That’s true,” Calvin added. “Uncle Richard practically let us run wild, so long as we did our schoolwork and chores.”
“I most certainly would have enrolled you both in boarding school,” Uncle Julien said, teasing them. “And definitely catechism.”
“Yikes!” Natalie yelped playfully. “Close call.”
A black Mercedes waited under the awning in front of the hotel, with a handsome gentleman in a black wool pea coat leaning on it nonchalantly, arms crossed. When he saw them emerge from the lobby, he rushed forward to greet them.
“Julien!” he cried. “It’s been far far too long!” Kieran Beaulieu kissed Julien on both cheeks and embraced him warmly.
“Kieran, monami, what catching up we have to do!” Julien introduced them, and they shook hands enthusiastically.
“I’ve heard a lot about you both. Julien is one of the proudest uncles I know, and has told me how singularly brilliant his niece and nephew are.”
“Oh dear.” Natalie turned a little pink at such extravagant praise. “Uncle Julien is too kind, as well as biased.”
“Nonsense,” Kieran returned, “I’ve read two of your books, Natalie. And I’m also very familiar with Calvin’s efforts in Africa. I admire your commitment, both of you.”
They mumbled rather embarrassed thanks and stomped their feet, trying to warm them. The night had turned frightfully cold and the air smelled as if it might snow any second.
“Well,” Kieran said briskly, “let’s get in the car where it’s warm. I have a delightful meal prepared, and I’m starving!”
“I’m all for that,” Calvin replied with readiness.
Kieran drove them through the streets of Calais and towards the Place D’Armes. When they passed an ancient stone watchtower, Kieran explained that the monument dated all the way back to 1302 and had miraculously survived the many bombings inflicted on the city during World War II. “It was one of the few structures left standing,” he told them somberly. “The Place D’Armes also hosts a morning market in front of the tower, twice a week. Luckily, today is Saturday, so I was able to find all sorts of delicacies this morning. I do all of my own cooking, you see.”
Natalie laughed. “You shouldn’t say such things around Calvin. He’s a regular glutton, although you wouldn’t know it to look at him.”
Kieran lived with his wife near the old watchtower, in an elegant townhouse. He ushered them inside, which was warm and lit invitingly with firelight and candles. As they removed their coats, a tall, pretty woman greeted them in the entryway.
“Janette, how lovely to see you again!” Julien said gallantly, and kissed her hand. “And may I say that you have grown even more stunning since last we met? I did not think that could be possible, but here you stand, proving me quite wrong.”
Janette’s blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh Julien, you know you’re the only man besides my Kieran that I have ever set my cap for! But you can’t cook to save your life, so the scales were tipped in his favor.”
“I knew I should have enrolled in Le Cordon Bleu!” he lamented. “Why are all the best women swiped out from under my nose?”
Kieran laughed while handing round glasses of wine. “Julien, you’re not fooling anyone. We all know you have left a trail of broken hearts in your wake!”
Julien and the Beaulieus spent a few minutes catching up on mutual friends, before sitting down to dinner. Kieran and Janette were antique dealers, and their home was filled with a diverse collection of furniture and artwork. Kieran favored Asian and Indian pieces while Janette was drawn to Italian and French artwork, so their home was decorated in a pleasing fusion of east and west.
Kieran, a devout Catholic, said a prayer of thanks for food and friends and began passing around plates. “This dish is called anguilles au vert,” he explained, “which is basically eels cooked with sorrel leaves in white wine. I like it on fried bread.”
He also passed around plates of ostrich pâté and a savory tart known as flamiche. Calvin was in seventh heaven and ate as if he had been starved for days.
“That’s so beautiful,” Natalie said, pointing at a large wall tapestry. “What’s the story behind it?”
“It’s funny you should notice that particular tapestry, Natalie, as it was a gift to my parents from your own family.” He glanced at Julien and bowed his head slightly, “A most extravagant one, to be sure.”
Julien smiled, saying, “It was no expense. It was a family heirloom, and I couldn’t think of a better couple to have it. Have I ever told you the story behind it?” he asked.
“No, but I’d love to hear it,” Kieran encouraged. “I’ve always meant to ask you about its origins.”
Uncle Julien cleared his throat. “Well, to begin, this tapestry tells the story of our family’s beginnings.” He looked at his niece and nephew intently. “This story will hold great interest for you children. Richard and I had planned to tell together someday, but …”
“He said we came from India, countless generations back,” Natalie interrupted, before he could finish. She didn’t want to hear the end of that sentence.
“Just so. And this tapestry depicts our migration.”
Calvin examined the tapestry with more interest. “It looks like they’re traveling through a desert,” he noted. “Are there deserts in India?”
“There is at least one great desert, in the northwest,” Julien replied. “It’s called the Thar, and it’s one of the most inhospitable places on earth. It borders Pakistan, and it is this desert which has been sewn into the tapestry.”
“But who made it?” Natalie asked. “It’s obviously very old, and how do you know it depicts our ancestors?”
“This tapestry was passed down from second son to second son, for hundreds
