Page 25 of Catching Trouble

I stared at the freckles scattered across her knuckles.

“You’re right. But I didn’t realise I’d be working for such a purist.”

She stood, stretching like she’d just finished a yoga class. “Do you want anything, Sophie?”

“No coffee for her,” I ground out.

Chloe blinked at me. “Of course. I was thinking of hot chocolate.”

“She won’t sleep.”

“Papa!” whined Sophie. “I’m not a baby.”

I sighed. I couldn’t disagree. She was almost as tall in her chair as her nanny. “Fine.”

With a lift of her eyebrows, Chloe left the table in a cloud of sunshine and spring flowers. It was the same scent from her shampoo earlier.

“I like her.”

I turned to Sophie. “Pardon?”

“Chloe. She’s crazy. I don’t believe her story about the marching, and I wouldn’t leave her in charge of a mission to space, but she’s nice. And, if you and Maman don’t trust me to be on my own, she could be worse.”

I was glad Sohie liked her, but my gut tugged at her approval. Was I envious? Chloe was the type of person who had a knack for getting along with everyone. If only I had the same skill, maybe the club wouldn’t be so quiet.

Fifi’s comment about my “brooding” drifted into my head and I pulled my lips into what I hoped was a beaming smile.

Despite my attempt to emulate Chloe’s cheery demeanour, after five minutes of stilted conversation, I was ready to throw in the towel. Sophie was bending a straw between her teeth, dark hair moving in the breeze. I’d dreamed of this time with her for so long, and it was as if she didn’t want to be here.

Chloe returned holding two cups, hovering them over the table. “Voila!”

I eyed Sophie’s cup.

“Don’t worry, it’s not coffee. It’s hot chocolate as requested. But just so you know, both keep you awake. Plus, the hot chocolate has more sugar. I’d stick to coffee, as long as it’s weak.”

I shook my head. “You obviously don’t have children of your own.” At my accusation, her brows lifted, and her mouth flattened. I cursed myself for sounding like a pompous ass. I didn’t know her background or history. What if she wanted children? What if she’d lost children? Merde.

“Now,” she said, setting Sophie’s cup on the table, ignoring me. “Let me know what you think.”

Sophie looked at her cup and gave a tiny gasp. A smiley face grinned up at her from the froth.

“And this one’s just for you,” Chloe said, placing the second cup in front of me. This time, the coffee froth held a face with a sulky mouth and sharply angled brows, as if mid-tantrum. I scowled.

Sophie giggled, looking up at me. “You look like twins.”

I gaped. “Did that barista do this on purpose?”

Chloe sat opposite me. “Please. He can barely muster a crema. No. I did it.” She grinned at me, her eyes alight. “I thought it was an excellent likeness.”

I leaned forward, glancing at the face again. “I don’t look like that.”

Sophie passed me a spoon, holding it in front of my face as a mirror. My reflection appeared, warped and furious. I growled, pushing it away.

Chloe chuckled. “It’s not meant to be accurate. It’s a caricature.”

Was that meant to make me feel better?

“Did you really do these?” Sophie asked.