The server dropped off our drinks and a basket of tortilla chips. Clearly, we looked as though we might need to soak up some alcohol.

“But we live in Charleston,” Meredith said. “It’s a college town. And this is a summer job. Surely there’s someone.”

“You’d think. But I can’t just pluck a random college student. Even with a background check they might be crazy or try and sleep with the dad. I can’t risk it. He has the most gorgeous little girl too. And they’ve been through a lot. His wife died a couple of years ago, and no way, I can’t risk sending the wrong person.”

“You could do it,” I suggested.

Tabs shook her head. “Ha! I wish. My days of nannying are over. And you know my sister is getting married next month, I have to go home to Aiken for the whole lead up. I’m taking a much-needed break from my business.”

Meredith slapped her palm on the table, making us both jump. “Josie could do it.”

“Do what?”

“Go to France and nanny for the sad, hot, Frenchie.”

My belly disappeared down to my feet. And then I barked out a laugh. “No way.”

Tabitha turned her head and stared at me, her brown eyes suddenly glittering with hope and excitement, like I was a fat trout at last light.

“No. No, no, no. Don’t look at me like that.” I shook my head. “She was joking.”

“No, I wasn’t,” Meredith chirped.

“Shh,” I hissed at her. “Are you crazy?”

Meredith popped a tortilla chip into her mouth. “Nope. I’m a genius.”

“Tabitha. It’s the drink talking,” I reasoned. “I have student loans. Rent to pay. I need to get my resume vamped up and out to other firms.”

Tabitha dragged her eyes off me to Meredith. “You are a genius, Mer.”

“No, she’s not,” I whined. “She’s dumb.”

“That was low, Marin, but I’ll let it slide.” Meredith popped another chip in her mouth like it was popcorn and she was settled in for the entertainment. “And please, let’s not forget, Josie, that your Pinterest board is covered in Frenchy French things.”

“That’s only because of my dad’s family heritage.” And mine, obviously. Meredith was right though, I had a whole board dedicated to all things French. Little old medieval towns, cobbled streets, old farmhouses, fancy chateaux, cafes, vignettes of French farm tables piled high with baguettes and fruit with sunshine spilling in from some old thrown back pale blue antique shutters. Okay, so for someone who’d never been, I could qualify as interested in going. But it was a bucket list item. It would happen some day. Not tomorrow for goodness’ sake.

“Please,” Tabitha pleaded. “Literally no one else is available on such short notice. It will be awesome, I promise.”