“You should see Sydney,” I say once we’ve sat down.

She shakes her head. “I’m seeing all of Sydney I want to see right now.”

“That’s not what I mean. God knows when and if you’ll ever be back. There’s a lot to see.”

“The Opera House, the Harbour Bridge, the fish market, Bondi beach… Yes, I’ve read all about it. Yet, I have no desire to see any of it with my own eyes. What I would like to see, however, is how Zoya Das lives.” Her eyes are crinkled up in a smile.

“That can be arranged.”

“Do you live far from here?” she asks.

My attention is snagged by a loud group of people entering the Pink Bean. I recognize Micky, Robin, and Micky’s teenagers. They head straight for the counter and don’t see me.

“Olivia had a craving for Kristin’s sticky buns and arguing with a fifteen-year-old girl is very difficult on a Saturday morning,” Micky says to the person behind the counter.

“Our moment of peace and quiet may be disturbed imminently,” I say, knitting my brows together.

“I don’t mind meeting your friends. A person’s friends say so much about them.”

“Says the person who sometimes hangs out with Dominique Laroche. Have you met her partner?”

Micky and company occupy one of the big tables in the middle of the shop. They still haven’t seen us.

“I have met Stéphanie. Definitely the most unconventional first lady on the face of the earth. She’s keeping a low profile. When I met her, we talked about her role in Dominique’s public life, and she countered by asking if I had the faintest clue who Angela Merkel’s husband was and his role in her life.” She chuckles. “I had to admit I didn’t.”

“That might be true, but I imagine the interest in Merkel’s husband is far less than in Laroche’s much younger lesbian lover. It’s human nature. I have no desire to know anything about some bland guy, but my ears always perk up when I hear something about Stéphanie Mathis. I just can’t help myself.”

“You’re a lesbian. You’re more attuned to news about your kind.”

“Trust me, it’s not only among lesbians. What’s it like in France? It must be hard for her.”

Camille shakes her head. “It’s not. We are a nation who, historically, don’t care what our leaders do in the bedroom. We are truly not interested. We always have far more fascinating things to talk about. Although when Dominique first came out, a shock wave did travel through the country. But in the end, once things have settled down, what does it truly matter who the president is with?”

“She’s France’s first female president. That’s far more important.”