“It’s not yours.” Emily clenched her jaw, registered the spasm that followed, that always followed, when she tried to talk too fast, too soon.

Tyler shrugged, took a book from the shelf, then put it back again. “I just thought it would save time.”

“Save time?” Emily said, trying not to imagine all the places he would clearly rather be. All the people he would rather be with, because it was starting to feel as if there was something more at stake for him, something other than simply helping her solve her grandmother’s puzzle. Turning from him, she undid the knot of string around the package before slipping the paper from the book. One quick glance at the cover, then she opened it up to read the dedication.

For Antoine—thank you for showing me how to capture the light.

“Who’s Antoine?” Tyler was peering over her shoulder, and she took a step away, tried not to let him see.

“Not sure,” she replied, flicking through the pages of a story about a boy who walked barefoot to school. A child who was gifted a pair of magical boots so he could soar higher than all the people who thought he was less worthy because he was poor. “Where is it?” she muttered, holding the book by both covers, turning it upside down and giving it a gentle shake.

“She said to come back tomorrow.” Tyler looked back toward the front of the shop, where an assistant with a sharp black bob was passing over a bag filled with books to a man, and his three girls were all twitching expectantly, their blond pigtails jiggling. “Apparently Madeleine wanted to give it to you personally, along with something else.”

“What?”

“She didn’t know. But she did give me these.” He held out two small rectangles of plastic. In the corner of each was a tiny, metal square. Hotel keys.

“A hotel?” She had no desire to go to a hotel. It felt clinical, yet seedy, the idea of being ushered to a hotel with him. Was this part of the plan?

And yet it couldn’t be, because Madeleine had something more. Something her grandmother may not have known about.

“Apparently it’s just around the corner. Same one Aunt Cat always stayed in whenever she came back.”

Ever more secrets. Ever more surprises to bear.

Emily knew her grandmother had traveled when Margot was just a baby. She’d taken her all over the world, carried her in a sling as she researched her next book. She worked any job she could find to make just enough money to feed them both, buy paper, ink, and a ticket to wherever the desire took her next. It was only when Emily’s mother was older and needed a proper education, to have what society described as “stability,” that Catriona returned to England. That was when she went to live with an old friend who worked for a large publishing house in London.

But Paris? She had never spoken of Paris.