The Great Towel Mix-Up, Part 2

Julien enjoyed being right, but only briefly. After that, being right required effort, and effort was not what he came to Club des Dunes for.

From his chair on the south terrace, he could see the whole scene at once: Nora beside the disputed beige towel, upright with suspicion; Elise staring toward the second beige towel near the low stone wall; her woven basket on the ground beside it; and around all of them the calm life of the club, still moving at its usual rhythm as if nothing of consequence had happened.

“No one,” said Nora, “moves a basket and a towel separately unless they are determined to make life worse.”

Elise kept her eyes on the distant chair.

“I agree. Which is why I did not do it.”

Julien sighed.

“We should go and inspect the chair.”

Nora looked at him.

“Now you want inspection.”

“Now we are beyond color theory.”

Elise picked up the newsletter again, though only to have something in her hands.

“If that really is my basket, then either I am becoming alarmingly incoherent or someone else has been using my chair.”

Nora glanced at the handle.

“It is yours. I recognize the blue ribbon.”

It was true. Elise had tied a narrow blue ribbon onto one handle for no clear reason except that she liked it there. It was decorative, impractical, and unmistakable.

“Good,” said Julien. “Proof.”

“A basket is not proof,” Nora replied. “A basket is only a basket.”

Elise looked at her.

“That may be the least useful sentence of the morning.”