“And now I want to tell you about the entrance keypad,” continued Madame. “The code is one-five-two-three-A, and you must never divulge it to anyone, or you will put all your courtyard neighbors at risk.”

“One-five-two-three-A,” repeated Lucy.

“Not out loud,” hissed Madame, implying Lucy was revealing a state secret.

“Sorry,” said Lucy, repeating the code to herself like a mantra.

“Now we go in.”

As Madame busied herself with the key, which had to be turned several times, Lucy imagined what the apartment would be like. Over the years she’d collected a number of Country French magazines and catalogs, and she pictured a cozy interior filled with comfy chairs and sofas upholstered in toile de Jouy fabric or perhaps Provençal prints, copper pots hanging from beamed ceilings and plenty of those mustard-colored crocks.

“Entrez,” announced Madame, opening the door and revealing featureless gray walls, a huge expanse of parquet flooring, a pair of enormous white leather sofas, a Lucite block serving as a coffee table, and French windows covered with severe blinds. “Very luxurious, no?” she asked.

Lucy bit her lip, trying to hide her disappointment.

“Very modern,” enthused Sue. “Roche Bobois, n’est-ce pas?” she asked, naming a high-priced French furniture company with a store in Boston.

“Peut-être,” replied Madame with a shrug. “La cuisine, c’est ici,” she said, leading them around the corner of the L-shaped space to point out a sleek modern kitchen.

At least that was what Lucy thought it was. There was a huge white marble island streaked with gray, which held a tiny sink and a cooktop, but not even a spoon was in sight. One wall was lined with pale wood cabinets, but the joinery was so subtle that Lucy never would have guessed their function had Sid not picked a spot and pressed against it, popping open a door. “Very nice,” was his verdict.

“The bedrooms are this way, down the hall,” trilled Madame. They followed her through the dining area, which featured a Parsons table and white leather chairs, and down a long hall, where she opened a door, revealing a huge bed covered with a shaggy white fur spread and a sleek mirrored armoire. “The bath is beyond,” she said, pointing to a door that was hidden in the wall. “Who will take this room?”

“We will,” said Sue, shouldering her way past her friends.

“Bien.” Madame led them to the opposite room, similarly outfitted, which Rachel and Bob agreed would do fine for them.

Pam and Ted got the next room, which left only one door remaining in the hallway. It had a stained-glass window, and when Lucy opened it, she found a rather dated, old-fashioned bathroom with a rolltop tub. “Where’s the bed?” she asked.

“The sofa,” replied Madame. “The sofa is also a bed.”

“This apartment is supposed to sleep eight,” said Bill. “That’s what we were told.”

“Bien sûr. Three chambres and one sofa bed in the salon.”