One Summer in Paris

Lissa spoke again. “I’m making a fresh start. I envy you, Grace. Having a man love you the way David loves you—” Her voice thickened. “You’re lucky.”

Lucky? Lucky?

Grace stared across the foyer of the hotel. David had humiliated her. He’d left her. How did that make her lucky?

“Goodbye, Lissa.” She ended the call, her hands and legs shaking.

She took a moment to calm down and then walked into the restaurant.

David and Sophie were seated at a table by the window.

Sophie looked more subdued than usual, but she sprang to her feet when Grace arrived.

“Mom.” She gaped at Grace. “Your hair! And your dress—you look so different. You look amazing. Doesn’t she, Dad? Beautiful.”

Color streaked across David’s face. “She does. But your mother always looks beautiful.”

But not beautiful enough to stop him choosing Lissa.

Oh, stop it, Grace.

Bitterness could eat you alive and she wasn’t going to let that happen.

“A change of circumstances called for a change in look.” She hugged Sophie. “Are you doing okay?”

Sophie clung to her. “I’m so sorry.”

Grace stroked her back, aware that David was looking at her searchingly.

“Is everything all right?”

“Everything is fine.” Had he known Lissa would call? No, probably not. And maybe she’d tell him at some point, but not right now.

Sophie pulled away. “Is Monica mad at me?”

“No. She’s grateful to you for handling everything in such an adult way.”

Truthfully, Grace had been afraid that Monica might blame Sophie, but that hadn’t been the case at all. Monica had bravely digested the facts and looked honestly at her relationship with her daughter without shifting blame.

Grace decided not to relay the details of the conversation where poor Monica had blamed herself and her parenting for Chrissie’s sudden rebellion.

It’s my fault, Grace. I held on to her too tightly.

Grace could sympathize, because to some extent she’d done the same with David. She glanced briefly at her husband, who was talking quietly to Sophie. Had she looked honestly at their relationship? Was she willing to admit that she was at least partly responsible? It was so much easier to wholly shift the blame onto another person than to take responsibility oneself.

She sat down on the opposite side of the table, facing David and Sophie.

“I was so stupid.” Sophie’s eyes were swimming. “Chrissie went totally crazy and I didn’t want to say no to her. When she collapsed, it was terrifying. And I couldn’t speak Italian so no one understood me.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You stuck with your friend,” Grace said, “and that’s important. If you hadn’t been there, maybe Chrissie wouldn’t be alive and flying home with her mother.”

A waiter appeared by her chair. “Would madame like to order?”

“Just coffee, please.”

David ordered the same for himself. “How was London? How is Audrey’s mother?”

“Recovering. Audrey is back in Paris.”