She led the way into the house and upstairs. Camille glanced at her father. “How are you feeling?” she asked quietly.

“I used to do the same chores when I was a boy. Although Aunt Rotrude never made me clean the attic.”

The three of them went to the house, where Madame Olivier was waiting. “I had to take a break from the historical excavation,” Papa said. “It’s nicer out in the sunshine.”

“So you’re feeling all right?” Camille murmured, well aware that he hadn’t answered her question, and equally aware that she was hovering.

“Today is a good day,” he said. “Worrying about tomorrow will make it less so.”

The four of them made their way upstairs. Camille could see Finn taking in every detail of the old house. The final stairway to the attic was narrow, winding up to a small arched door. When Madame opened the door to reveal the attic, sun-heated air wafted over them, carrying the scent of dust and age. “It is quite a stockpile of old things,” she said. “Sadly, nothing has been sorted. Rotrude was not the best of housekeepers, nor were her parents, it seems, and perhaps the others before that. It appears Rotrude simply stuffed things away up here and never bothered with them again.”

“Didier Palomar’s sister—Papa’s aunt,” Camille told Finn. “She lived here as his guardian until he turned eighteen and moved away to the States.”

“If I’d known what a mess she left behind, I would have helped,” Henry said. “My aunt always resented the fact that she would have to vacate the mas in order to make way for the tenants. She went to live with her daughter—my cousin Petra—who was married by that time.”

“I do apologize for the mess.”

“It’s not a mess,” said Finn, his eyes shining. “It’s El Dorado.” Bars of light falling through the rafters illuminated slowly wafting dust motes. Camille tried not to stare.

“I’m glad you think so,” said Madame. “Jacques and I always expected her to send for her things at some point, but she never did. After a time, we forgot about everything.”

“It’s understandable,” Camille said. “Your life got very busy around here, what with six kids coming along.”

She nodded, smiling broadly. “These days, when I look back, I don’t quite know how we managed.”

“And now you are reaping the rewards,” said Camille’s father. “You’re surrounded by such a beautiful family. I always wanted more children, but . . .” His voice trailed off.

“You never told me that,” said Camille.

He took out a white handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead. “You were such a joy,” he said. “I wish I’d had ten of you.”

Finn was too tall to stand up in the attic without bumping his head. “Would it bother you if we moved some of this stuff elsewhere?” he asked Madame.

“Bother me? It would be a big help to get it cleared out for the renovation work. It can all be taken downstairs for sorting.” She dusted off her hands. “You can also get the children to help. Nico and Martine are excellent workers, and I imagine Julie is, too.”