Lara followed her through the foyer and into the kitchen. Hers was an old kitchen that likely held a lot of memories of lavish parties in the 1920s and ’40s. At the entrance to the kitchen was a door with a transom window, which Lara kept propped open, a throwback to the time when the house had a kitchen staff and no air-conditioning. Well, the house still didn’t have air-conditioning, but the kitchen staff was long gone. The wood cabinets were dramatic floor-to-ceiling, with secret nooks like bread drawers and flour bins. Having the cabinets repainted a color called “limestone” had been one of her few splurges, along with replacing the old countertops with granite as well as updating the cabinet hardware and lighting. This was one of the finished rooms that gave Lara hope that the rest of the house could look glorious again. After refilling the water bowls, she placed them in front of the dogs, but they looked up like they expected more.

“Haven’t you fed them?” The three were a perfect group of beggars.

“Of course I have,” said Audrey, rustling through bags. “They know you harbor biscuits.”

Lara opened the flour bin and pulled out the dog biscuits. They chomped loudly before settling to sun themselves in the bright morning sunlight streaming through the open windows.

“They had the most wonderful cherries at the farmers market today.” Her mother placed various paper containers on the kitchen island that Lara had built herself. “I’m thinking pie.”

“What did you think of the gala last night?”

Audrey looked around. “Well, I wondered if I might find Ben Archer still here this morning.”

“No,” she said, blushing. Lara walked over to the refrigerator and pulled open the door, grabbing half-and-half.

“So, this little idea of Gaston’s is nuts. You aren’t actually thinking of going to Paris, are you?” Audrey braced herself dramatically on the island. “That painting is worthless, Lara. I mean, I was going to tell him myself, but…”

There was a long silence while Lara poured two cups of coffee and slid one across the counter to her mother, like the last offering of peace before battle.

“But you decided to start with me, instead.” Lara took a sip of her coffee. The brew was a little hot and she put it down on the counter to let it cool. “I am planning on going to Paris. If that painting is valuable, then a representative from the family should be there with it. Don’t you think? Plus, I still have an airline ticket from my honeymoon that I need to use before October. The stars are aligning.”

“Well, frankly, I’m concerned about you going to Paris.”

“Why would you be concerned?” Lara laughed. “I’m thirty years old.”

“It’s not safe.”