Phil was her friend. He was her husband now, and she couldn’t be happier about that fact, but above all he was her friend. He wasn’t tall and handsome like Frank. He was somewhat round. He didn’t have eyes that made her go weak at the knees. His eyes were brown, and gentle, and amused. He’d been a doctor, recently retired. Her children liked him. That was important. Just as important, so did her mother. After she’d been with him for a year, but not yet married, Marie had told her: “I’ve left Phil a bequest in my will, dear, that I thought you ought to know about. I’ve decided to leave him that painting of Saint-Lazare in the snow. The one by Norbert Goeneutte.”

“But I always loved that painting,” she’d cried.

“Yes, dear. I know.”

When Claire had asked Phil what he thought about a Parisian pied-à-terre, he’d been unequivocal.

“I think you should do it,” he said. “You’ve family there.”

“I don’t care too much about Jules’s family. And if Esmé wants to see me, he can get on a plane. He’s free, and he’s got all the money in the world. And I’m pretty much happy staying here with you, you know.”

“You mean you won’t take me to Paris?”

“Not for months at a time. You don’t speak French.”

“So I can learn. It’ll be a project.”

“I’m not going to ask you to do that for me.”

“The offer’s open.”

But she’d put the idea out of her mind, and spent a very pleasant summer sailing and seeing her grandchildren, and Phil’s.

And then Esmé, with his cheek and sense of humor, had sent her a telegram.

COME AT ONCE.

“This is ridiculous,” she’d said.

“Why don’t you go?” said Phil.

It was perfect, of course. It was delicious beyond all words. It was on the Île de la Cité itself, with a quaint living room with old beams, and two bedrooms, and a view over the Seine one way, and a glimpse of the flying buttresses of Notre Dame the other. It was romantic. It was fun.

“You can be on either the Left Bank or the Right in a five-minute walk,” the agent pointed out, when she and Esmé inspected it.

“It’s Friday,” Esmé said. “I’ll give you dinner tonight. Then we can go to the château for the weekend. I’ve already told them you’ll want to see it again on Monday. Then you can make up your mind.”

“You’ve already planned all this?”

“Yes,” he said.