She glanced at the beach in the distance. Her mom was busily digging in the sand with Anouk’s kids. “Want to give it a try?” she asked.

Camille watched Anouk’s husband, Daniel, playing in the surf with their kids. Home on leave from Africa, he reveled in family life. He was as handsome and serious as Anouk was romantic and bubbly, but when he was in the water with the kids, he cavorted like a little boy.

She took out Lisette’s old Exakta and framed a shot. It felt just right to be taking pictures again after a long dry spell in the wake of Jace’s death. That day in Gordes with Finn had been the turning point for her. Seeing the photos of one of her idols had reminded her of a truth she’d ignored for too long—life was beautiful and ephemeral, and a captured moment could last forever. Her long dry spell had ended. She remembered her passion for photography, leaping back into it with the kind of excitement she’d felt years ago.

If Finn had not pushed her, if he hadn’t all but dragged her into remembering her old dreams and passions, would she have rediscovered it on her own? Maybe, she thought, just maybe, Finn was good for her. Maybe she would tell him that. And then . . . well, that was the problem. Then what?

She set aside the question and gave her full attention to the camera and the subject. “They’re so excited,” she said to Anouk, clicking the shutter to capture the ecstasy on the little ones’ faces as their father chased them in the surf. “You have an adorable family.”

Anouk smiled. “Thank you. It’s wonderful to have him home. He will be back with us for good after one more six-month rotation. You know, there was a time when he couldn’t imagine leaving his homeland. Then he spent a summer here with my family, as you have, and now he yearns only for Bellerive. Maybe it will cast its spell on you.”

Camille did love the sun-drenched village. The pace of life, the golden light, the food and wine were only part of it. There was a spirit of creativity here that reached out to her—craftsmen honing their talents with single-minded focus—the forge of the knife maker, the ateliers where designers created jewelry and fashions, the artisans fabricating their wares for the markets, the antiques dealers rolling out artifacts from times gone by.

It was lovely. Camille couldn’t deny that—but it wasn’t home. Before long, she would be going back to Bethany Bay, and work, and real life. She’d bought some unique items for the shop—things as complex as sublimated fabric prints, or as simple as butter knives that stood on their own. Yes, there was a seductive spell that had woven itself around Camille. But as summer waned, her ties to home tugged at her.

With a sigh, she tucked away the camera and watched Daniel and the kids. “I always thought I’d have a bigger family. I’m not complaining,” she quickly added.