“Yeah. I did. Coward.” She rolled her eyes. “It can only mean he doesn’t have an answer yet. I’m sorry.”

My stomach sank. “It’s fine. It’s not like it would have changed my mind about leaving.”

“But maybe you can corner Evan later and get the details?”

I nodded.

“Great,” she said, her uncomfortable smile morphing into a joyous one. “Now let me take you to my favorite little boutique off the square and then we’ll go get some drinks. And then I’ll persuade you to stay.”

The cobblestones were tightly packed and so were the throngs of people. I clung tightly to Andrea’s arm. There were singles, couples, families, and groups of fiery young men and tittering young girls. The outfits ranged from a day out on the water to fancy reservations for dinner.

Music and the clink of glass and hum of chatter emanating from the street cafés and restaurants lent a festive mood to the atmosphere. The evening felt full. Vibrant. Unmarred by the silly stresses of family worries or low paying jobs. Or the humiliation of failing at being a nanny. Real life didn’t seem to exist here.

A family with two little toddler darlings dressed in matching Vilbrequin and Gucci gesticulated wildly as they talked and walked and browsed the shop windows. After several little shops, I’d put a marginal dent in my credit card with some cute items for Meredith and Tabs, a gorgeous linen scarf and a necklace with peacock feathers for my mother.

“Come on," Andrea said and squeezed my arm. “There's another little boutique I want to pop into up ahead. But first, I’m buying you a real French crepe.”

The smell of warm batter and caramelized sugar had already grabbed my attention and made my stomach growl. She dragged me to an open window across the street and ordered two lemon and sugar crepes that were served to us in sticky goodness, dripping out of wax paper. The tart and sweet flavors exploded across my tongue and I devoured the delicious treat.

“Ohmygoooood,” I mumbled with my mouth full. “Shmazing.”

Andrea laughed. “Right?”

When we were both done, Andrea pulled out a couple of wet wipes from her purse, and we cleaned off our fingers and lips. Then we made our way farther up the road.

Tucked into an alley no more than five feet wide was a little store. There was a planter full of colorful flowers below the picture window. The antique wooden front door, with peeling light blue paint, was propped open. Several pretty summer dresses hung from it and swayed in the breeze. The smell of baked waffle cones and coffee drifted from the busy ice cream shop on the corner.