“Oh, yes! She said something about us going shopping for new dresses.” Sophie took another fry, dipping it into her mayonnaise. “I hope she doesn’t make me wear frills like Maman. Do you know Chloe can hula-hoopandjuggle?”
I shook my head. Why didn’t that surprise me?
“You’re still happy she’s here, though?” Based on the scene in the kitchen the other day, I knew the answer, but I couldn’t resist the chance to talk out loud about our nanny with another person. Spending this time alone with Sophie was lovely, but I missed Chloe’s presence in the club. I appreciated the buzz around her coffee—and the buzz I felt when she flashed me one of her cheeky smiles.
“What are you so happy about?” Fifi asked, joining us at the table.
I pushed my wineglass away. “Oh, for goodness’ sake. You as well? Am I not allowed to smile?”
Fifi’s dark hair shone in the hurricane lantern. “Oh, absolutely, it’s just such a rarity. I wanted to check you were okay.” She winked at Sophie, who giggled, diving back into her fries.
“May I ask what was specifically so nice about your day? We felt lonely without either you or Chloe here. I don’t suppose you know where she got to?”
I met her gaze and swallowed. Her eyes danced with mischief, and I couldn’t ignore the slightest quirk on her lips. Damn if my cheeks didn’t burn, too. What waswrong with me?
“How are you, sweetheart?” she asked Sophie. “I hope your papa paid you handsomely for your work today?”
I huffed. I had. It turned out my daughter had quite the mind for business. She’d produced a neat list of everything she’d done, matched with what she considered a fair wage for her efforts, leaving my wallet a little lighter than I expected.
Sophie grinned. “Yes. And he’s buying me a fancy dinner.”
Fifi eyed the finished bowls of fries. Her red-painted lips cracked in a smile. “I see. And so healthy, too.”
I was about to defend my food choices when Fifi cut in.
“I wish you’d brought Chloe with you.” She glanced over her shoulder at the bar. “That coffee machine terrifies me. There are too many pipes. And we have more customers than usual. Word has got out. Everyone’s expecting fancy foam pictures or portraits. I almost had a mutiny on my hands at lunchtime. I tried to draw a face. According to one customer, it looked more like their mother.”
Sophie cackled, drawing stares from the customers at the next table. I gave a tiny shake of my head, and she rolled her eyes. I should’ve pulled her up for her sass, but we were having such a lovely night. I didn’t want to spoil things.
I took a breath. “Chloe’snothere, so you’ll have to take your chances.”
“Maybe she wanted a night off from you, Papa.”
Fifi scoffed. “Who could blame her?”
I hung my mouth. What was this? Some kind of laugh-at-Maxime themed party?
“Oh, he’s not that bad,” Sophie said, reaching for my hand with her greasy fingers.
Fifi tipped her head with a smile. “I know, sweetheart. He just likes people to think he’s scary.”
I gathered my napkin in my fist. “I do not...”
A shrill squeak startled us.
“What was that?” Fifi leaned down to check under the table. After a moment, she extracted the little black kitten that lived in the garden. “Look, see. Another terrified customer! He was in hiding.” She stood and lifted him into the light. “Who’s this?”
“There you are! Did you follow me down the steps again?” Chloe’s familiar voice filled my head, along with the scent of summer flowers. I turned.
She stood, resting her hand on the back of my chair. She wore a light-green dress with thin straps and her cheeks shone pink, no doubt from our ride in the sun this afternoon. Her damp curls hung around her shoulders and as I followed their waves, a picture of her in the outdoor shower rammed into my brain. I shifted in my seat.
She took the kitten and handed it to Sophie. “I believe this belongs to you.”
Sophie’s grin rivalled the Cheshire Cat,and something tugged in my chest. I already told Chloe I didn’t want Sophie getting attached to the kitten. But the look of pure joy on my daughter’s face made me second guess my decision. She gave him a kiss on the top of his head, then buried her face in his fur.
“Does he have a name?” asked Fifi.
Sophie’s smile could’ve lit up the whole town. “He’s called Bean. I think he looks like a coffee bean.”
