“At the north end of the hall,” he said, gesturing.

Camille didn’t understand the look of sadness in her father’s eyes until Julie ran to the end and opened the door. The room was a cramped and windowless linen closet, with neatly folded sheets and towels on shelves and sachets of dried lavender hanging from the corners of the shelves.

“Sooo Harry Potter. Why did you have to sleep here?” Julie asked, peering inside.

“The other rooms were for my aunt and cousin, and the household help who worked the farm,” he said.

Camille remembered what he’d said about Palomar’s sister, Rotrude, who had raised him after Lisette died. Rotrude had always resented the fact that her nephew would inherit the family estate. She must have been a miserable person to treat a little boy so poorly.

“We have a south-facing room for you now,” Madame said cheerfully, showing him a bright, clean suite with a comfy-looking bed, fresh flowers, and a grand fireplace. “I know you must be tired, but please join us for an aperitif.”

Everyone trooped out to a lovely garden surrounded by bougainvillea and shade trees, the perfect gathering spot for their aperitif. Jacques made a gracious toast, and trays laden with olives, cheese, tapenade, and crostini were passed around. A little boy of about eight or nine went up to Papa, giving him a sideways glance. “You are the landlord of Sauveterre,” he said.

“That’s right, I am,” Papa replied.

“Are you going to take it back?”

“Don’t be rude, Thomas,” warned his mother, Anouk.

“No, little one,” Papa said easily. “This has been your family’s home for many years, and it wouldn’t be right to put you out after all this time. Besides, I am too old to keep a big farm like this running. I just wanted to come for the summer. Is that all right with you?”

The little boy gave this a moment of solemn thought. “Do you know how to play soccer?”

“I do. When I was a boy, I was always the tallest on the team, and I made a good goalie. I might like to try it again while I’m here. Do you know how to play?”

Thomas nodded.

“Then I think you and I will be good friends,” Papa said. He beamed at the little boy in a way that made Camille wish she’d given him more grandchildren. He loved being a grandpa and was so good with kids.

She looked over at Julie, and to her surprise—and delight—she saw Martine slip her arm through Julie’s and say, “Timid and tired. Not a perfect combination.”

“No,” Julie admitted. “Is it that obvious that I’m timid?”

“Just a guess. I would be timid in this situation. Don’t worry, though. You can get to bed early tonight. Your French is fantastic.”

“Thank you. Papi taught me, ever since I was a baby.”

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go up to my room. Aspro, come.” Martine patted her leg, and a small terrier dog scooted out from under the table, eagerly following the girls.