“I’ve told you, Mom. Sylvie is very self-centered. She doesn’t think about other people. Like whether or not I enjoy sleeping on a futon and being wakened by some stranger tramping through at five a.m. Frankly, I’m glad she’s not home. I hope she stays out, because maybe then I’ll get a good night’s sleep before I have to go to work tomorrow morning.”

“Well, if you’re not worried . . .”

“I’m not, and you don’t need to worry, either.”

“I won’t,” promised Lucy. “Listen, have you seen Adil and Malik lately?”

“No. We’ve been working different shifts, I guess. Why do you ask?”

Lucy yawned. She was growing tired. “Well, you know how we thought the police had searched our apartment? It wasn’t the police. It was Adil and Malik. They were caught on video.”

“That’s crazy. It couldn’t be them,” said Elizabeth.

“It really did look like them.”

“Well, appearances can be deceiving,” insisted Elizabeth. “I know them, and I’m sure they would never do anything like that. Why would they?”

“You’re probably right,” said Lucy, too tired to argue. She yawned again. “I’m going to head to bed.”

“Bonne nuit. Dors bien,” said Elizabeth.

“You, too, sweetie. Good night and sleep well.”

Next morning they all slept later than usual, and at breakfast Sue advised them to eat lightly because Madame Defarge had invited them to Sunday lunch, her way of apologizing for letting the intruders search the apartment and to thank Bill and Sid for building the closet. “And dress nicely,” advised Sue. “Sunday lunch is a formal affair in France.”

At one o’clock they gathered in the courtyard and knocked on the concierge’s door. She welcomed them warmly and promptly served aperitifs, whiskey for the men and champagne cocktails for the ladies, along with delicious homemade cheese treats. Once everyone was supplied with a drink, she disappeared into her tiny kitchen. Gounod, her little dog, absented himself after the introductions and curled up in his basket, aware, no doubt, that he would be rewarded with the leftovers.

“These are delicious,” enthused Lucy. “What are they?”

“Galettes au fromage,” replied Sue. “And I bet we’ll have some sort of soup for starters, then a roast chicken with vegetables, salad, strawberry tart for dessert, cheese, and coffee. I hope you’re hungry.”

“Not terribly,” admitted Lucy.

“And it will all be served on her best china and crystal,” added Sue.

“That’s a lot of dishes to wash,” said Rachel. “We ought to offer to clean up for her.”

“Don’t you dare,” hissed Sue. “It would be considered an insult, and she would be offended.”

“That’s fine with me,” said Pam, sipping her cocktail. “I’d probably break the Limoges, anyway.”