“I wish for nothing but for the Diaz to sell quickly and that you hurry back.” I rose to the tips of my toes for another quick kiss.

“The commission couldn’t come at a better time.” Theo’s smile was filled with hidden meaning.

Hope should be a patient thing. Mine wasn’t. It made me demand, “We are moving?”

The tips of Theo’s mustache wiggled higher. “I promise, dearest. And this is only the beginning. All our dreams will be coming true and soon.”

I sprang back into his arms. “Life will be so much easier in the ground-floor apartment. Oh, do write Vincent in Auvers to tell him. In a larger apartment, we will be able to store his paintings exactly as he wishes. That should make him happy.”

“You read his last letter. He is happy already. He is painting every day. He found a good friend in Dr. Gachet. I am certain his new works will sell.”

“I’m just glad he’s optimistic about his prospects again.” Vincent’s happiness was necessary for Theo’s happiness.

At the last warning whistle, my husband hopped onto the train. I held back tears as the steam-spewing black beast carried my love away.

On the way back to my parents’ house, I held my son tighter. I worked on gaining control of my emotions, yet some stubborn tears still clung to my eyelashes as I walked inside at last. But then there, in the parlor, the happiest of surprises awaited.

My best friend, Anna, jumped to her feet and ran to me. “Jo! And Wil! How precious he is. And here is my Saskia.” She reached back for her own daughter, who was sitting on the carpet. She was only a few months younger than my son.

The three carefree days that followed were full of laughter. The two babies loved playing together. My family doted on us. Theo wrote that he would be returning shortly.

“My life is a dream, the perfect idyll,” I told Anna Tuesday morning, handing Wil back his wooden ball, which had rolled under my seat. “And yours too. How lucky we are.”

She straightened Saskia’s pretty yellow dress. “Of course, the trouble with the story of Paradise is that it always ends with being cast from Paradise.”

I opened my mouth to ask if she and Jan were having troubles, but the doorbell rang.

I hurried to answer and accepted a letter from the mailman.

“From Theo. He’s probably writing to tell me which train he’ll be on in the morning.” My gaze snagged on the return address.

Anna noticed. “What is it?”

“He writes from Auvers-sur-Oise instead of Paris.”

My mother sailed into the living room from the kitchen. “Why is he there? Must he constantly travel? Your father wouldn’t have dreamed of deserting me and our children.”