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“Ignore it,” I say.

“Bastien, what the fuck! Turn on the damned TV!” Patrick shouts. He opens the door. “Also, you left your keys in the lock. Jesus Christ, Levi!”

We pull apart.

“You want to explain that piece of kabuki theater I had to suffer through?” Patrick asks as he deposits his shoes next to the front door, which makes me feel even more like a real jerk about breaking Bastien’s glasses with my boots.

“I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“Well, you weren’t! I’m almost tempted to rescind that whole mentorship, except that the presentation of evidence was, if very crude, actually well-researched.”

“What mentorship thing?” I ask.

“I didn’t tell him,” Bastien says. “He wants to train you to be a lawyer after you graduate.”

“You can do that?”

“Cool your jets, Knight. I’m still mad at you.” He takes the remote and turns on the TV, turning to one of the local stations. There’s a helicopter looking down at Chancellor Street. The crowd goes from the Bean Stop all the way to Constitution Avenue. There are new signs. BRING SAINT-JACQUES BACK. DOWN WITH CORRUPTION.

“That is not a campus protest anymore,” Patrick says. “That is a news cycle. And what in God’s name were you doing in there?”

“Giving them a villain.”

“You gave them a villain who transferred his life savings to the victim.” He drops into a chair. “I have been practicing law for six years and that is the stupidest thing I have ever seen in a hearing room, and if you ever do anything like it again, I’ll represent the other side.”

Chapter fifty-three

Bastien

“It’s been chaos,” Delphine says, sitting at our dining table in the trailer. She picks up her wine and takes a delicate sip, and then considers the wine. “Do you know, I sent some of this to my father in France. It rather grows on you, this Canadian wine. Not as good as French, but then again, we don’t have polar bears outside of the zoos, so we must content ourselves with the loss of such an excellent wine with grace.”

Levi and I exchange a barely suppressed smile. It’s 11 AM on a Saturday and there is wine and a charcuterie plate on the table. I can almost hear Levi’s Baptist ancestors cringing at this, and one of the things I love about him is how much of my world he has obstinately embraced as his own.

“How can you both praise and insult my country in the same breath?” I ask.

“Easily. It’s Canada. Everyone does.” She leans down and selects some Gruyere. “But the chaos! The canceled classes on Wednesday and Thursday, and by Friday, I don’t know where to begin! Only half the students showed up to classes, if that. But your department has been hit like a cyclone!”

“Do tell,” Levi says, pouring himself some of the wine as well.

“They say that there are fifteen different courses with no teacher at all,” Delphine says. She sips her wine with glee. “Lincoln Preston has finally been suspended after four women came forward alleging they were his mistresses. Four of them! Can you imagine, when he’s such an ugly man.” She shivers. “He must have a cock like a walrus. Hughes threw such a fit over being suspended that he quit.”

Levi puts his glass down. “Those mistresses. Was one of them called Bethany?”

“I don’t have the names, chéri.”

He looks discontented. “Was that the young woman you met?” I ask him.

“Yes. I’ll bet there’s more than just the four.”

“What happened to Julia Spring?”

Delphine takes a sip. “She retired immediately. On the spot. They say she sold her condo in a day and is moving to Florida.”

“Well, good for her, then?” I say. “I’ve heard the weather is nice there.”

I catch Levi rolling his eyes at me.

Delphine snorts. “In the winter. In the summer it’s Hell’s waiting room.”