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“Was that your lawyer on the phone?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“How are things in Paris?”

“Well,” Grace smirked. “Typically French, I suppose.”

“As in chaotic?” Charlie chimed in with a laugh.

“Yes. They seem to revel in disorder and disobedience over there.” The smirk turned into a superior wink. “Nothing I can’t handle, obviously.”

“You’re so sexy,” Olivia chuckled.

“Merci beaucoup.”

“How do you say sexy in French?”

“Same, just with added tongue,” Charlie quipped, joining in the mood with a wicked repartee of her own.

Christmas lunch at the family home went surprisingly well considering that Reece showed up with his new boyfriend. After spending six months in Miami, he had returned to Burlington a changed man, and reclaimed his place on the board of the family business. The resort was thriving once again. Jeremy’s fury was pretty obvious from across the table, but he did not dare say a word. Reece’s lover, Toby, was a carpenter on the new team that Grace had hired, and a former state football player. At six foot four, full of muscle, and twice the size of Jeremy, he made an imposing figure. Not the kind of guy Jeremy would attempt to bully, for sure.

“Outnumbered by the gays at the family table,” Grace said to him with an exaggerated smile. “Bet you never thought this would happen, uh? How does it feel, brother?”

“Shut up, Grace,” he grunted.

As for the family patriarch, he barely spoke to anyone past the first disapproving nod of hello, and only had eyes for Chloe and Mark’s new baby girl, named Autumn.

“Fresh hope for the future,” Grace reflected. “Since none of his own kids really turned out the way he wanted.”

“Do you care that he barely tolerates you and Reece being here?” Olivia inquired softly.

“I don’t give a damn. And you know I’m only here because of Charlie again.”

“Of course.”

“Chloe and Mark, too. They will be good parents.”

Olivia smiled at the happy couple. “Yes. I like them both very much. Chloe and I really hit it off. And with Reece, too.”

“I’m glad but not surprised.” Grace pulled her close. “You are a hard one not to like, Ms. Bianchi.”

???

They flew to Paris the very next day. Grace was keen to be there before work on a new contract she had won on the back of the No. 5 deal started –Afterthe holidays, since the French insisted on taking the entire period between Christmas and New Year as vacation. Taking time off never used to be her thing in the past, but she had to admit that roaming the back streets of the French capital with Olivia, introducing her to weird and wonderful, off-the-wall arts places, and enjoying the odd glass of wine in some atmospheric bistro, had its moments.

“You’re loving it, aren’t you?” Olivia teased her. “Tell me the truth.”

“It’s not too bad,” Grace allowed.

On New Year’s Eve, they had dinner at a rare establishment in France: an exclusive vegan restaurant, the only one of its kind in the country to have won a coveted three Michelin stars.

“It’s great,” Olivia decided. “I love the atmosphere.”

“And not a single escargot in sight,” Grace approved.

Closer to midnight, they joined the crowds on the Champs Elysees for a night of dancing and revelry. Five A.M. found them queuing at a café with a bunch of locals to enjoy a French NewYear’s Day tradition: warming bowls of the famous onion soup, served with fresh baguette and a daring glass of red thrown in for free.

“I am, actually,” Grace stated.