Elizabeth was leaning back in her chair with her hand on her stomach and a blissful expression on her face. “Boy, that was good,” she said. “I guess I needed carbs.”

“You do, after a scare like you had,” said Pam, who took nutrition seriously. “It’s the aftereffect of all that adrenaline. Your body thinks you ran a marathon, and wants to replace all those nutrients you burned.”

“This is so weird,” said Elizabeth. “I can’t believe I lived with Sylvie for six months and knew so little about her.”

“She must have been very secretive,” said Sue.

“I think she was really a nice girl who got in over her head,” said Rachel.

“Perhaps nice isn’t the right word,” said Pam. “It seems she was a little too wild to be nice, but I do think she was basically a good person. I don’t think she would have done anything she believed was evil.”

Lucy wondered if Pam was drawing on her own experience here. She knew she’d been a bit of a wild thing before she met Ted and settled down.

“Believe being the operative word here,” said Richard. “None of these terrorists think they’re evil. They think they’re fighting the good fight, jihad.”

“Yup,” added Bob. “They think that if they die, they’re going straight to heaven and they’ll be awarded a whole bunch of virgins.”

“Talk about misogynistic,” said Sue. “All those veils and blankets the women have to wear. So unchic.”

“Not Sylvie,” said Elizabeth. “She didn’t care about issues. She only cared about Sylvie.”

“That will always get you in trouble,” said Sue, carefully cutting a raspberry tart in half and taking one piece for herself and giving the other to Sid, adding it to the half-eaten éclair that was already on his plate.

“Madame, you are too kind,” said Sid, licking his lips.

When Sid said the word madame, Lucy had a fleeting image of Madame Seydoux, Sylvie’s mother. Mothers and daughters had a unique knowledge of each other, she thought, even when they didn’t seem very close. There was something about a mother-daughter bond. Maybe it was nothing more than shared genes, but it was there. She’d seen it operate in even the most destructive relationships; nobody knew better how to hurt the other than a mother or a daughter. She amended the thought. Except, perhaps, sisters. Lucy didn’t have a sister herself, but she’d seen the dynamic at work in her own family, among her daughters.

“Did Sylvie have any sisters?” she asked hopefully.

“As far as I know, she was an only child,” said Elizabeth.

“Then I think we should take a little trip to Chartres tomorrow, to express our condolences to Madame Seydoux.”

“Well,” admitted Elizabeth, “I have been wanting to see the cathedral.”