Why was it that Edith could always see through her? She supposed it was because they’d been like sisters for so long, but she’d never had the same ability to discern what Edith was thinking. Lately, her friend had become even more of a mystery to her. “I do like her,” Inès said. “It is just that she has always seemed to belong here more than I do.”

“Certainly that’s not true.” Edith gave Inès a look of concern as she pulled to a stop before turning onto the main road.

“I’ve been married to Michel for three and a half years now, and I still feel like a guest at the Maison Chauveau sometimes. But Céline, well, Céline is at ease here in a way that I am not. And I suppose that bothers me.”

“Is that why you began your affair?” Edith asked quietly. “Because you feel as if you don’t belong?”

“I don’t know.” Inès stared out the window at the vineyards that rolled by. The bare vines were like skeletons lined up in formation, a silent army against the gray sky. “I’m ashamed, Edith. I know you’re judging me harshly, and I deserve that. I’ve made a big mistake.”

Edith didn’t say anything for a moment. “We all make mistakes. But life goes on, and we can always become better. It’s not the decisions in your past that matter, but the choices you make about your future.”

Inès watched as a convoy of German vehicles passed, one of them skidding slightly on an icy patch before the driver regained control. When the trucks had disappeared behind them, Inès looked at Edith. “Are we still friends? Or have I lost you, too?”

Edith glanced at Inès and then turned her attention back to the road. “You will never lose me, Inès. I will always be here.”

? ? ?

It was perhaps Edith’s words of solidarity that gave Inès the courage she needed to face Antoine that evening when he appeared at the Brasserie Moulin.

“Hello, my dear,” he said, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek near the front door where she’d been standing, waiting for him to show up. “It has been far too long. I’ve missed you very much.”

She pulled away. “And I, you.”

“We should make up for lost time, then.” His hand closed around her forearm like a vice. “Shall we go to my apartment?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I think we should stay here for now. Shall we have a drink?”

Across the brasserie, Edith was watching her and gave her a slight nod when their eyes met over the crowd of Germans. Antoine looked put out, but he didn’t refuse as Inès led them to two seats at the end of the bar. He pulled her chair out for her and then slid into his own. “You have been absent for a long time,” he said as Inès studied the bottles behind the bartender. “I don’t like having to summon you.”

“Things at the champagne house have been busy,” she said without meeting his gaze.

“Is that all it is?”

She turned to him. “No.” She drew a deep breath, steeling herself. “Antoine, I can’t do this anymore. I was wrong to betray my husband and I . . .” She hesitated. “I am trying to be a better person.”

Antoine’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “It’s far too late to change who we are, my dear.”

Inès blinked a few times. “But I am a good person.”

“Good people don’t betray those they have made promises to.” He went on before she could protest, leaning closer until he was breathing his words right into her ear. “In any case, you should understand, Inès, that it is not so easy to disentangle oneself from a liaison in the midst of a war.”

To anyone observing them, they must have looked like two lovers having an intimate conversation, but Inès could feel a chill settling over her. “What are you saying?”

“Oh, my dear.” His tone was ice-cold as his dry lips brushed her earlobe. “As you know, I have friends in high places. And there’s a cost for betrayal.”

She blinked a few times, trying to steady herself. “I am not betraying you, Antoine. I—I care for you. It is just that I cannot continue this way.”

“And you think that it is your decision to make?” His eyes were hard as he leaned back to study her.

“I do think that if you consider what I’m saying, you will agree.”

“No, I do not think I agree at all. In fact, I think perhaps I will mention you and your husband to one of my friends. Perhaps Hauptmann Müller over there.” He nodded across the room to a rotund officer with a Hitler-like mustache. “Or the weinführer, Otto Klaebisch. He’s a dear friend. I’d hate to see your husband’s business suffer as a result.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Inès, I’m insulted. I’m a gentleman.” He smiled coldly, and she felt a surge of anger alongside her fear.

“Yes, well, you’re not the only one with friends,” she snapped back. “Perhaps there are members of the underground who would like to hear about your friendship with the Germans.”

All at once, Antoine went very still, and Inès knew instantly she’d made a mistake. “Ah, so you know people in the underground?”

“No, of course not.” She backtracked quickly. “I was just saying that I’m not the only one with much to lose.”