“You’ve never been here, then?” Star said, watching her. She was eating chocolate croissants and drinking café au lait. He reached across and flicked a tiny piece of pastry that was stuck to her chin.

“No. Never. I always wanted to come. We’ve been all over—but always these really dull places. Air-base towns. Germany was worst. I hated Germany. My mother did too. We were stuck right out in the middle of nowhere, this horrible little place, all closed in with pine forests. Daddy was off working all the time. Or playing golf. He’s a golf fanatic. He has an eight handicap, so I guess he’s good at it, but Mommy and I nearly went crazy. We had cabin fever. Mommy says that’s what it’s called—”

She stopped. She must remember not to gabble and gush, she told herself. She could see Star didn’t like it, because it made his face close. Maybe she was boring him. He looked away; he began to fidget and tapped his fingers on the table, and she could tell—something was getting to him, because normally Star was so still.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” he said in an abrupt way, and rose. Mina watched him thread his way past the tables and disappear in the direction of the men’s room. She sat there trying to finish the croissant, trying to watch Paris, but the delight had gone from the streets outside and the croissant suddenly tasted stale.

He was away a long time, ten minutes or more. When he came back though, she could tell at once that his good mood was restored. He sat down opposite her, fastening his shirt cuffs. His hands smelled of soap. He smiled at her with the special smile that made her feel they both had all the time in the world.

“In Germany…” He leaned forward and touched her hand. “Was that when the quarrels started? You remember you told me in the car?”

“Maybe.” Mina frowned. “I was only thirteen when we left there. We were there three whole years. It could have been earlier, and I didn’t notice, or I pretended it wasn’t happening. We were in Hawaii before Germany, and that was better. I’m not sure. I guess—they must have been happy sometime. When I was small. They really loved each other when they got married. Mommy told me. She said Daddy just swept her right off her feet, and—”

She stopped, fighting sudden tears.

Star watched her with that still, intent gaze he had. Then he took her hand in his. He said: “Mina. Love comes and goes. You have to learn that.”

“It doesn’t stay?” She looked away. “In books it does. In movies.”

“It might stay.” He lit a cigarette, drew on it, and exhaled. Mina watched him through the smoke’s blue coils.

“Everyone wants it to stay, for sure. That makes people strive too hard. They get anxious and stressed out. What you should do is just wait. Let it come. Hope it lasts. Just a little bit of love is worth having. There’s a whole lot of hate in this world.”