“Been trying to call you, Boss. Gave up and called Madame Pascale. The train workers strike has shut down all the lines. She won’t get to Paris in time for the flight tonight. I’ve called Marie Louise to try and get her on tomorrow’s flight. The strike should end in a few days, so we’ll have better luck later this week.”

I’d forgotten about the planned strikes and immediately felt like shit for putting Josephine in this position. Well, even shittier than I’d felt not two minutes ago. And then suspiciously annoyed because he could have easily gotten her on a flight to Paris.

“Come, you must meet Josie,” Dauphine said to her grandmother. Then to Josie, “Mémé speaks English.”

My mother stepped forward and smiled in welcome. “I’m Madame Pascale.”

“Josephine Marin,” my daughter’s ex-nanny responded. “Lovely to meet you. I’m so sorry for the unexpected intrusion.”

“Nonsense. You’ll join us for lunch. We have plenty. You too, Evan.”

“Thank you, Madame. But I will grab a bite with Jorge inside, we need to discuss some security details.”

Then he gave me a stony look before turning to go inside. Great. Did everyone who worked for me plan on taking Josie’s side over mine?

“As you wish.” My mother headed back to the table and motioned to Astrid who was already hurrying out with another set of silverware and glasses for the round table. Astrid moved Dauphine and me apart and put Josephine’s place setting right between us. Of course.

“These ridiculous strikes,” my mother snapped in French. “It’s irresponsible.”

“Well,” I said as I pulled out my mother’s chair to avoid having to do Josie’s. “They have a point, if they need more pay.”

“I didn’t take you for a unionist,” she said, placing her napkin back on her lap.

“Well, as a product of a privileged upbringing,” I waved my hand at our surrounding, “and knowing how good we have it, I can say that they are right to feel pissed off when the world around them gets more expensive and they never get a salary increase.”

“Bof.” My mother flicked her wrist and switched to English. “Josie. Are there lots of strikes in America?”

“Um. Not really. I mean there are labor unions for manufacturers but not so much for infrastructure.” Her eyes flicked back down to where she was helping herself to salmon and salad. She hadn’t looked at me once. And I realized we hadn’t even greeted each other either. God, I was a prick. How must she be feeling right now?

“It’s an inconvenience here. A strike every time I turn around it seems these days.”

“There’ve always been strikes. It’s part of French life,” I said, amused at my mother’s new sense of principle.

“And you don’t mind?” my mother challenged.