“I know.” She’d fallen in love with David’s smile. “I’m lucky.”

Mimi stopped walking. “No, honey. He’s the one who is lucky. You went through so much and yet you have a family like this—well, I’m proud of you. You’re the glue, Grace. And you’re an excellent mother.”

Her grandmother was her biggest supporter. Grace hugged her in full view of anyone who happened to be watching. It was only when she held her grandmother that she was aware of her frailty. It scared her. She couldn’t imagine a life without Mimi.

“I love you.”

“Of course you do. I’m the buttercream frosting on the stale cake that is life.”

Grace let her go. “Twenty-five years today. Had you forgotten?”

“I have creaking bones and varicose veins, but my memory is fine. I know what day it is. Your anniversary! I am happy for you. Every woman should love deeply at least once in her lifetime.”

“You didn’t. Were you never tempted to get married? Not even when you discovered you were pregnant?”

Mimi flipped the scarf around her neck and slid her arm through Grace’s. “I wasn’t the marrying kind. You, however, always were. I hope you’re wearing your sexiest underwear to celebrate.”

“I refuse to discuss my underwear with you, but I can tell you that I’ve booked dinner. And that’s when I’m giving him his gift.”

“I’m envious. A whole month in Paris. Sunlight on cobbled streets, and the gardens… Paris has a special atmosphere—do you remember that? It slides under your skin and permeates the air you breathe…”

Mimi seemed to be talking to herself and Grace smiled.

“I remember—but I have only been once, and just for a short visit. You were born there. You lived there.”

“I did. And I really did live.” Mimi was never so animated as when she talked about Paris. “I remember one night we stripped off our clothes and—”

“Mimi!” Grace paused at the door to the dining room. “You’re about to appear in public. Don’t scandalize everyone. We don’t want to shock them with your sinful stories.”

“Boredom is a sin. You’re never too old for a little excitement. I’m doing them a favor.” Mimi snapped her fingers in the air. “Pierre! That’s it.” She looked at Grace, triumphant.

“Pierre?”

“The man who bought me the macarons. We’d made love all night.”

Grace was intrigued. “Where did you meet him? What did he do for a living?”

“I met him when he came to watch me dance. I have no idea what he did for a living. We didn’t talk. I wasn’t interested in his prospects—just his stamina.”

Grace shook her head and adjusted her grandmother’s scarf. “You should go back.”

“To Paris? I’m too old. Everything would be different. The people I loved—gone.”

Her grandmother stared into the distance and then gave a shake of her head.

“Time to dance.” She opened the door and sailed into the room like a prima ballerina making her entrance on stage.