Fear of everything, she thought, already regretting the turn the conversation had taken.

STEWARDESS: Yep.

IMAKEPESTO: There are pills for that.

STEWARDESS: I already have a prescription. Julie’s really excited. Now I feel guilty that I’ve never taken her on a big trip like this.

IMAKEPESTO: She’s gonna love it here. How’s her French?

STEWARDESS: Fluent. Or nearly. She had a rough year at school, so it’ll be good for her to get away for a while.

IMAKEPESTO: Rough in what way?

STEWARDESS: Run-ins with other kids. I’m not clear on whether she’s the bully or the bullied.

She hesitated. She was telling this man a lot about herself. She wondered why it was so easy to open up to him. The distance, she thought. The shield of her computer screen.

STEWARDESS: So here’s something else—not about me. My father was bullied as a child in Bellerive. He was vilified because his father was a collaborator.

IMAKEPESTO: Yikes. The war was very personal in small towns like Bellerive.

STEWARDESS: I keep thinking about the pictures I’ve seen so far. My father has dark hair and dark eyes. Olive-colored skin. Both his parents seemed to be fair. I even thought about DNA testing.

IMAKEPESTO: Curiouser and curiouser. I’ve done plenty of DNA testing associated with my work.

STEWARDESS: Really? Why?

IMAKEPESTO: Identifying remains. Grim stuff. But it’s helped with repatriation of lost soldiers. Hey, listen, I’ve got a class to teach. Talk online again later? Or better yet, in person?

Camille felt a little flip of excitement. Simmer down, she told herself. This was about Papa and Julie and putting things to rest. Not about flirting with Finn.

STEWARDESS: Okay, I’ll let you know when we’re en route. D.C. to Paris, then on to Marseille.

IMAKEPESTO: Can’t wait to see you.

Armed with antianxiety drugs, relaxation sound tracks, and any other gimmick she could find to survive her own neuroses, Camille boarded the plane at Dulles Airport with her father and her daughter. Despite all the preparations and support, she couldn’t escape the memories of the last time she flew, returning home from vacation a widow, having to tell her young daughter she’d never see her father again. Julie had begged to go on the trip with them, but Jace had declared that it was to be a romantic holiday, a second honeymoon. Though they hadn’t told Julie, they were going to try getting pregnant again. Julie’s first words on hearing the news were, “It wouldn’t have happened if he’d let me come.” Camille wondered if her daughter remembered saying that.

Julie and Henry were the opposite of anxious. They were bright-eyed with excitement, settling in for the long flight to Paris. Papa had indulged in seats that reclined into flat beds and came equipped with mini–movie screens and far too many offers of drinks and snacks. Though she appreciated the creature comforts, Camille worried that he was too freewheeling with his spending because he knew time was short. She didn’t know how to talk to him about it, though.