She debated with herself whether to tell Bill about her midnight adventure and finally decided he didn’t need to know. He’d be furious with her, for one thing, and she wasn’t sure how he’d react to the idea of his daughter having an active sex life. But it was Elizabeth herself who broke the news, calling her father on his cell phone and catching him when Lucy was busy in the bathroom.

“What were you doing running all over Paris last night?” he demanded, confronting Lucy as she poured herself a cup of coffee. For once, they were alone in the kitchen.

“I was worried about Elizabeth. I called, and she didn’t answer, so I borrowed one of those bikes downstairs and went over to her apartment.”

“She says you woke her up, and she’s worried that you’re freaking out.”

“Woke her up? That’s funny,” said Lucy.

Bill furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

Lucy would never have said it if Elizabeth hadn’t put her in the awkward position of having to defend herself. “She was entertaining a male caller,” said Lucy, regretting the words the moment she said them.

“My little girl?” demanded Bill. “Are you sure?”

“She’s a woman, Bill,” said Lucy. “And I’m quite sure.”

“Who was it?”

“Putting two and two together, since she left here on a motorcycle with Serge, I imagine it was him.”

“That bastard,” growled Bill.

“You said he seemed nice. He made her wear a helmet,” said Lucy, throwing her husband’s words back at him.

“That was before I knew he was screwing my daughter.”

“Look, I’m glad to know she survived the night,” said Lucy. “I don’t trust anybody anymore.”

“Neither do I,” said Bill. “I’m going to have a word with this guy, make sure he knows that he’d better treat my daughter right, or he’ll have me to deal with.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Bill,” said Lucy, but it was too late. Bill was already on his way out the door.

She put her coffee down and ran after him, grabbing her coat and handbag as she went and catching up to him as he rounded the corner and headed for the Métro station. The slowdown was over, and the trains were running on schedule today, delivering them to the boulevard Haussmann in record time, which Lucy found ironic. If only the Métro workers had continued their protest today, she wouldn’t be in this situation, terrified her husband was going to get in a fight and end up in one of those dreadful French prisons.

“Please, Bill, we can’t meddle in Elizabeth’s love life,” she protested as the doorman in his splendid green Cavendish uniform trimmed with gold braid held the door wide open and Bill marched into the lobby, looking very much like a man with a mission.