If the stories at lunch were to be believed, every one of his employees had needed rescuing, so I had to assume Andrea’s story was a similar situation. So my new employer had a white knight complex. I supposed there were worse faults to have, I thought to myself wryly, irritated that I was finding more reasons to like than dislike him. A crush on a handsome man, I could get over quickly. A crush on a handsome and kind man … well kind was my kryptonite.

Dauphine lay on the sectional, her eyes drowsy, but glued to the movie. She’d pulled a cerise cashmere-looking throw over her bare legs.

“Be right back,” I whispered. The boat rocked gently beneath my feet as I stood.

The swimming and salt and sea air had tired her out.

I hoped they did the same for me come bedtime.

I caressed her hair and then got up and made my way to the galley to find Andrea and chat. Unfortunately, she was busy going through upcoming menus with Chef.

After making sure it was fine with Andrea that I leave Dauphine relaxing where she was, I retrieved my sketchbook and climbed to the top deck. I spent a blissful hour under the awning, sketching the houses built into the rock. Dauphine found me soon enough and was delighted that I knew how to draw. I tore a sheet out of my book, making a mental note to buy more paper when I could, and gave her a pencil. She drew a seascape, complete with a mermaid.

The sun was low, and the light hitting the villas and rocky outcrops as we gently swayed in the water made my heart twist in contentment. I found myself longing to explore the tiny villages. How close together were all those houses after all? Were all the alleys cobblestoned? Did little French ladies stand in front of their pale blue doors and sweep their stone steps and shoo the stray cats? Did they all walk home with fresh baguettes every day? How strange to have been plucked from my small Southern life I’d thought I’d wanted and plopped into the middle of the Mediterranean. This was the kind of thing I should have been putting on a vision board as a teenager. Not that I’d ever finished one. It had always been Meredith’s idea, and my logical left-minded brain didn’t put much stock in such a practice. Although Meredith was always trying to convince me that my Pinterest board about France was the same thing. Maybe it was. Maybe fate had indeed brought me here.