Chapter 17

“Are you family?”

She has come every day for two years and four months. At the front desk, she has nothing to answer.

You know that a grandmother of eighty-five is giving half an estate to her granddaughter, that her son learns of it at the table between the cheese and the coffee, and that Mathilde's mother, who has an opinion on everything, looked out of the window and said nothing. Still to come: what turns up in an account book left in a cellar since 1984, why a woman who owns half an estate insisted her name appear on no commercial document, what was said in that kitchen one Sunday in September 1992 — and what it costs, forty-two years later, to have no word for who someone is.

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