“Are you leaning one way or the other?”
“If we must discuss this … I’m weirdly torn. Guillaume has sort of, let’s say, made his intentions clear. Luc was about to, I think, but didn’t get a chance—”
“Oooh, romantic intrigue.”
“But I pretty much get the picture. I know, I think, how that sentence was going to end.”
“And so?”
“Luc and Guillaume are very different. It seems unfair to be attracted to them both.”
“Haven’t you ever heard of a roster?”
“A what? That isn’t what I think it is, is it?”
“Yup,” said Sabine. “These days, it’s totally cool to have a roster of guys you’re sleeping with.”
“I’m not sleeping with either of them!”
“Not yet.”
“Mind your own business.”
“And as long as they’re OK with it,” said Sabine, “I say go for it.”
“Daughter-sanctioned romantic activity. Strange. It just … doesn’t feel very respectful.”
“It’s mutually respectful. And then you’ll have a situationship or two going, and—”
“Oh man. What is that?”
“Exactly what you think it is. Somewhere between casual hook-up and committed relationship. You like each other, but you’re not exclusive. And everyone’s OK with that.”
“Until they’re not.”
“Communication’s vital.”
“How do you even know about this? Oh. Wait. Reality TV.”
“Willa, actually. Who watches reality TV.”
As they reached the parking lot, there was Aubin and his little red car.
“Honestly, Mum, I’m OK with it. I think you should do what you want here in France. Other than working on the house and getting a refund, that’s the point, isn’t it?”
Marlow gave Sabine a hug and turned to Aubin. “Thanks for introducing Sabine to your friends, Aubin. She worked hard in school and deserves some fun. But not too much fun, if you get my drift. Drive safe.” She smiled and continued to the boulangerie. As they drove past her down the hill, they honked twice and waved.
Warm baguette in hand, Marlow walked back up toward Mirabelle, her mind crowded. The house. Guillaume. Luc. A roster and situationships!
Luc had urged her to get back to recording Instagram moments on her phone. What should she shoot?
A magpie landed on the stair railing, as if answering the call. Marlow slowly pulled out her phone and filmed it assessing her, readjusting its feathers as it was considering flying off but standing its ground. A beam of sunlight broke through the clouds, illuminating the bird’s shiny, iridescent feathers, and suddenly it took flight, white wing tips splayed out to catch the wind, tail shaped like a blue-green diamond. A sign of something, though Marlow wasn’t sure what.
Nenier didn’t have its own train station, so Sabine and Aubin drove to Neufchâteau and took the early morning fast train toParis from there. Sabine watched the countryside zoom by and napped. She’d stayed up half the night worrying about the excursion. It was another lie, but this one felt … exciting.
Yves’s text about where to meet read:Outside Shakespeare and Company, 11 am.Then he’d texted again to say he’d be an hour late. Sabine kept her expectations in check. Although her mother had resisted ragging on her father throughout Sabine’s life, she’d grumbled that he was undependable or at the very least had a different sense of responsibility than they did. So this might be par for the course.
They took the train to Saint-Michel Notre-Dame station. When they surfaced to street level, there was the Seine. Right. There. And Notre Dame, too, like something out of a storybook. They looked up and down the water. A long, thin boat passed by.
