“You!” I whip my head, looking between them. Lena is blushing terribly; Maxine is as casual as you please. “You two—” I can’t complete the sentence.

“Once!” Lena insists.

Maxine takes a bite of omelet and shakes her head. “Three times.”

“I can’t believe no one told me!” The other passengers are looking at us now, so I duck my head, lower my voice. “I can’t believe you were talking behind my back!”

At that, Lena laughs. “Oh, that I’ll defend, you were briefly insufferable. We love you, but you have to admit it was a lot there for a minute, Frances.”

“She thought I was a murderer.” Maxine nods her head in agreement.

Lena points to Maxine with her coffee spoon. “You thought Maxine was a murderer.”

I roll my eyes, but know deep down she has a point.

“I’m going to tell Maria,” I laugh.

Lena’s eyes go wide. “Maria? You two finally worked it all out, then?”

Maxine shrugs, a lock of hair falling in front of her sharp eyes, stormy like today’s pale gray morning. “No, that’s over now.”

I’m surprised by the news and hurt she hasn’t told me sooner. “Since when?”

“A month? Maybe two. It was hard with her in the city, and you know how things could be with her. It’s for the best, I’m fine. Truly, I am.”

“What happened to May?” Lena prods.

Maxine takes a sip. “Moved back to Connecticut. Married a nice boy with lots of money.”

“Oh, Maxine, I’m sorry,” Lena replies.

Maxine shushes her. “Stop, stop. I’m fine! Look at me!”

“You deserve it too. Happiness, I mean,” Lena says.

Maxine laughs but it’s hollow. “Happiness, what a boring goal.”

After breakfast, Maxine goes for a swim in the onboard indoor pool, but I never learned how to swim, and putting on a bathing costume and learning now doesn’t seem worth the trouble.

Lena and I end up, as we have most days, in the women’s lounge reading novels and listening in on conversation.

“I’m sorry about the game at dinner,” she says between sips of too-sweet tea. “I’ll tell Maxine to stop.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

Lena does the awful thing she does where she looks at me up through her lashes, quirks an eyebrow, and makes me feel like she sees right through me. She always has. “I’m your friend. It’s my job. Maxine’s, too. This will get better, I believe that.”

I think of the address. I believe it too. I have to believe there are answers waiting for me in France.

“I don’t want to be someone you have to worry about. This is a holiday. We’re supposed to be having fun.”