Three days after her meeting with Edmund Erwell, Marron found herself making soup.
Not stress-cooking this time—though there was plenty to be stressed about—but actual, deliberate soup preparation for a specific purpose. She'd received a message that morning from an unexpected source, and it had sent her straight to her kitchen with ingredients and intentions.
The message had been simple:
Chef Louvel,
I would like to continue our conversation. Not as an interrogation, but as two people who care about the same things from different perspectives. If you're willing, I'd like to invite you to my home. I'll prepare a meal. You can see my collection, understand my concerns more fully, and perhaps we can find common ground.
Tomorrow evening, if that suits. My address is enclosed.
Edmund Erwell
