“Oh my God,” Camille said, recognizing their very similar expressions as they watched him. “You’ve both slept with Finn.” In a way, it was a relief. Camille had long been uncomfortable with her attraction to him. This was the perfect excuse to get over him. She was not about to become his next conquest.

“Unfortunately, no,” said Vivi.

“Everyone wants to shag Finn,” Roz added, still checking him out. “I mean, come on. But he has this unfortunate trait.”

“He does?” Camille leaned in. Maybe he was an even worse player than she suspected.

“Yes. A very inconvenient sense of decency. He tries to keep it a secret so we’ll think he’s all that, but you’ll see. He’s ridiculously decent.”

Vivi nodded. “He’s terribly professional, keeps his distance from colleagues and students. Even the young and shameless ones.”

“Professional?” Camille was skeptical. “He’s an outrageous flirt.”

“Ah, that is just a front,” Vivi said. “He has a wall.”

Roz nodded. “No one can ever find a way into his heart, and that sort of thing gets boring after a while, no matter how he looks when he takes off his shirt.”

“And just so you know, he’s actually interested in you,” Vivi pointed out.

“What?” Camille’s cheeks caught fire. “Why would you say that?”

“Because he told us on the way over here,” she said.

“He . . . what? What did he say?”

“That he’s super attracted to you, and he wants to shag you.”

“He said that?” Oh my God, thought Camille. What a tool.

“No, he didn’t say that,” Roz explained. “But I’m sure he wants to. Just remember, he refuses to give his heart.”

They worked for a while in companionable silence. Finally, Camille couldn’t keep herself from wanting to know more. “Why does he refuse to give his heart?”

Roz shrugged her shoulders and made some notes on a clipboard. “Good luck getting an answer out of him.”

“I think it’s all to do with his first wife,” Vivi said.

“Emily Cutler,” Camille said. “He’s never mentioned her to me, but it was on his Wikipedia page. I don’t know why they split up.”

“Ooh, you two will have plenty to talk about in between rolls in the hay,” said Roz.

“I don’t want to get that personal with him,” Camille objected. “And I’m absolutely not going to roll in the hay. It’s not . . . we’re not like that.”

“That’s a shame, then,” Vivi said. Her expression turned thoughtful. “We’ve never seen him smitten over a woman before.”

“He’s not—”

“Trust me, he’s smitten.”

“Come to the table, everyone. Henri has made the most wonderful salade lyonnaise,” Madame declared, bringing a tray to the long outdoor table. “Camille, go and get Finn. He’s over at the shed.”

The Olivier family, it seemed, was conspiring to throw her together with him. She found him sorting through the things they’d brought down from the attic. “All these artifacts from a past no one can remember,” she said.