“Totally, are you kidding? Best night of my life.”

Papa smiled and patted Julie’s arm. “You didn’t sleep much.”

“I know. I was too excited.”

Camille breathed a sigh of relief when the plane touched down at Charles de Gaulle Airport.

“We’re in Paris,” Julie whispered, her eyes shining as she waited her turn at immigration.

Then she took out her phone. “Hey, I don’t have service,” she said.

“You don’t need a phone while you’re here,” Camille told her.

Julie’s eyes narrowed, and she opened her mouth to complain.

Camille held up a hand. “When you’re spending the summer in France, you don’t get to complain about your phone.”

Julie scowled. “Well,” she said. “When you put it that way . . .”

“I’m putting it that way.”

The next leg of the journey, a one-hour flight to Marseille, passed in a blur. The airport was small and modern, and Papa hired a car, a little Renault Twingo the color of a ripe grape. Camille loved the sound of the language spoken here. It was her father’s variation of French—Occitan. Compared to the rushing crowds at Charles de Gaulle, life moved at a leisurely pace in the south, even at the airport and car-rental kiosk.

Once they were on the road, she looked out the window in wonder at the spectacular scenery and picturesque villages with their shady squares and gurgling fountains, clinging to impossibly steep hillsides. The hour-long drive took them past dramatic gorges draped in pines, evergreen oaks, olives and vines, cherry orchards, and walnut groves.

Julie eagerly followed the route on a map, calling out the names of the tiny villages and landmarks they passed along the way—a castle here, an aqueduct there, churches and ancient coppices along the waterways. The fields of sunflowers and flax and lavender were just beginning to bloom, the vineyards were thriving with bright green new growth, and the sky was a marvelous shade of blue. Papa called Madame Olivier to give her their ETA.

“She’s making a special aperitif for us,” he said. “I have not seen her since I left Bellerive. She was a young bride back then. Now she has a granddaughter—Martine, who is a year older than you, Julie. I’m sure she’s eager to meet you.”

For the first time, Julie looked apprehensive. “What? You didn’t tell me there was another kid. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know until Madame told me, just now. It’s good news. You won’t be stuck with a bunch of boring adults.”

“Maybe I like hanging out with boring adults.”

“Now you’re getting cranky,” Camille said. “Jet lag is hard, but when we get there, be polite. And remember, you’re the one who begged for this trip.”

“What if this Martine kid doesn’t like me?”

“Nonsense,” Camille said. “Everyone likes you.”

“Uh-huh. That’s the reason they’re kicking me out of school.”

“No one’s kicking you out of school.”

“That’s what Vanessa said.”

“And her information is always so reliable. Listen, we’re half a world away from all that, so let’s enjoy where we are.”