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“Mme Burdet, I would be delighted with anything you wish to contribute to the design.” Louis smiles at her.

The two German officers are not sure where to look. The senior of them notices colleagues with more medals and decorations than he has now glaring at them.

“I think a touch of purple to match your dress, and some sparkle, would be a welcome addition to the library,” Agent throws in.

Gypsy laughs, musical and light. “Now, Officer, you were checking his briefcase. I hope you find his boring architectural drawings; just know they haven’t been stamped with my personal flair.”

She waves her arms around the restaurant, owning the sumptuous decor that brings so many Germans to her establishment.

The officer looks down at the briefcase in his hands. Looks at Gypsy, radiant and charming. Looks at Louis and Agent, two elderly men having lunch with a beautiful woman.

He closes the briefcase and hands it back to Louis.

“Enjoy your lunch,” he says with a sharp nod, and turns to go, his colleague on his heels.

Gypsy sits, signals the waiter. “Bernard, wine, please. And the fish for all of us. I’m absolutely famished.” She keeps her voice bright, cheerful, but her eyes are sharp. Alert.

They sit in silence for a moment. Then Agent speaks, very quietly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. They’re still watching. We need to have lunch. Make it look real.”

She smiles brilliantly, as if they’re discussing something delightful.

“How long can you stay?”

“An hour,” Louis says.

“Perfect. Then we part ways, and you two never meet in a public place again. Understood?” she reprimands them.

“Understood,” Agent agrees.

The food arrives. They eat. They talk about nothing, weather, opera, university gossip. Gypsy is effervescent, charming, keeping up a steady stream of chatter that covers any awkwardness. The Germans lose interest, focus on other diners.

When they finally leave, Agent takes the briefcase. A smooth handoff, covered by Gypsy kissing Louis goodbye, her handbag brushing against the briefcase as Agent lifts it.

“Thank you, for lunch. For everything,” Agent whispers.

“Thank you, my dear. We must do this again soon. I so enjoy your company,” she says.

They separate. Louis walks home, his hands finally starting to shake. That was too close. Far too close.

The next morning, Andrée waits at Colette’s house for Josie to return from camp. She is eager to hear about Josie’s adventures. But when the bus pulls up and the children disembark, Josie seems withdrawn. She says a quick goodbye to Solène and joins Andrée.

“Did you have a good time?” Andrée asks.

“It was fine.”

“Just fine? You were so excited.”

“Can we go home?”

Something is wrong. Very wrong. Andrée takes her hand. “Of course. Let’s say goodbye to Colette and⁠—”

“I already said goodbye. I don’t want to talk to them. Please. Can we just go?”

Andrée doesn’t argue. They head back to Sophie’s house, where they’re to spend a final night. Josie doesn’t speak the entire way. Only when they’re safely inside, when the door is locked behind them, does she collapse onto the sofa, sobbing. She heaves great, wrenching sobs that shake her entire body. Andrée holds her, bewildered, frightened.

“Josie, what happened? What did they do?”