“What? No.” Céline was startled; where had Theo come up with this idea? He had never mentioned it before. “I’m not leaving.”

“That’s foolish. You’d be safer there.”

“There’s danger everywhere,” Céline shot back as they reached their front door.

“Just because Michel thinks you’re safe here doesn’t mean you are. It’s not his place to be making decisions about my wife, you know.”

“Nor is it yours!” Céline cried. “It’s my life we’re talking about.”

“But it’s not just your life, is it? It’s all our lives! You being here, it puts us all in danger! You could ruin everything!”

“Ah, so is that what this is about? Not protecting me, but protecting the business?”

“I didn’t say that. But you would so easily ruin the Maison Chauveau, just to prove a point?”

“She stays.” Michel’s voice came from behind them, firm and low, and Céline whirled around. How long had he been there? What had he heard?

“But—” Theo began, his palms outstretched.

“She stays if she wants to,” Michel said, cutting him off. “She will always have a place here, where we can look after her. Do you understand?”

“I understand perfectly.” Theo’s jaw flexed. “Excuse me.” He went into the house, slamming the door behind him and leaving Céline and Michel alone.

“Michel, I—” Céline began, but he shook his head, and she stopped.

“You will be safe here, Céline,” he said, holding her gaze. “I swear, I’ll protect you with my life.”

seventeen

JUNE 2019

LIV

For three days after Liv’s conversation with Julien, she thought about his words—and the way she’d blurted out that he was attractive and then barreled on to ask him personal questions about his life—and felt more foolish with each passing day.

“I didn’t bring you here to mope,” Grandma Edith said over breakfast one morning. “And if you tell me you’re thinking about Eric, I will have to disown you.”

Liv forced a smile as she systematically dismantled the croissant that she’d plucked from their room service tray. She was still in her pajamas, while Grandma Edith was already in chic black pants, a white blouse, and red flats that matched her lipstick. “No, I wasn’t thinking about Eric.”

“Then who? I know that look. It’s the look of a woman mooning over a man.”

“What? No. I’m thinking about your attorney, actually. But not in the way you’re implying.”

“Julien?” Grandma Edith seemed amused. “And why not? He’s very handsome, yes? And would you stop picking at your croissant? Honestly, Olivia, did your mother raise you in a barn?”

Liv rolled her eyes, but she obediently set the croissant down and brushed the crumbs from her fingers, feeling like a chastised child. She picked up her cup of coffee and lifted it to her lips.

“So why is Julien Cohn on your mind, then, if not for those perfect buttocks of his?” her grandmother asked innocently.

Liv choked on the sip she had just taken. “Grandma Edith!”

“What? I’m not dead yet. Now, are you going to answer my question?”

Liv sighed. “Julien just made some good points, that’s all.”

“Do be more specific, dear. I don’t have all day.”

“He just—he asked me some questions about my life. About what I want for myself. And it made me think about how maybe . . .” She paused. “Maybe I need to pull myself together and figure out what kind of life I actually want before it’s too late. You know?”

“Ah.” Grandma Edith took a small, satisfied sip of her coffee. “It seems Julien is as wise as his buttocks are perfect.”

Liv gave her grandmother a look. “I think maybe I said too much, though. He was just being polite, and I started babbling about Eric and babies and leaving my job. I probably sounded like a lunatic. I think I scared him away.”

Grandma Edith raised an eyebrow. “Olivia, dear, a true lady should never air her dirty laundry to the first gentleman who happens by. But you’re in luck. You didn’t frighten Julien, at least not that I’m aware of. He just had to go to Paris for a few days on business.”

“And you know this because . . . ?”

“Because the business was on my behalf.” Grandma Edith checked her watch. “In fact, he’ll be here any minute. I’m not sure how you do things in America, but here in France, we prefer to be dressed with at least some makeup on when guests drop by.”

Liv stood abruptly and headed for her bedroom. “Why didn’t you tell me he was coming?”

“I wasn’t aware you cared so much. Oh, and you have croissant crumbs in your hair!” Grandma Edith added helpfully as Liv slammed the bedroom door.

Fifteen minutes later, with a black cotton dress thrown on and her hair purged of pastry, Liv emerged into an empty parlor. It took her a few seconds to realize that her grandmother and Julien were on the balcony, deep in conversation. She took a few steps toward the French doors and was just about to join them outside when she heard her name. Surprised, she stopped to listen.