Page 61 of The Good Girl Effect

I get Bea ready in the morning and prepare her a bag with everything she might need for the day. Jack is still upstairs, probably sleeping, when the door buzzes.

“Let’s go, Bea,” I say, ushering her out the front door. When she and I appear on the front steps of the building, Elizabeth looks surprised.

“I was hoping we could talk out here. Can I walk with you?” I ask.

Elizabeth looks confused before hesitantly nodding. “Sure.”

Bea walks in front of us as I talk to Elizabeth. Unlike the last time I saw her, her long black hair is down, and she’s wearing a red wool coat and high black boots. She really is stunning, and it makes me feel immediately inadequate in my joggers and T-shirt.

“So,” I say as we walk. “Beatrice has mentioned wanting to take ballet lessons.”

Elizabeth turns toward me in surprise. “And Jack said she could?”

I wince. “I haven’t spoken to him about it.”

She lets out a sigh. “He won’t change his mind.”

“But what about what Bea wants?” I argue, trying to keep my voice low.

“It’s not up to us,” Elizabeth replies.

“I just don’t understand why,” I say.

When we come upon a small market, Elizabeth stops. She fishes in her pocket for some coins and hands a few of them to her niece. “Bea, will you go inside and pick yourself out a treat? I don’t have any good snacks at my house.”

“Can I get candy?” she asks excitedly.

“No,” I say, but Elizabeth answers at the same time.

“Yes.”

When I glance at her, she shrugs. “Auntie privileges.”

“Fine,” I say, and Bea cheers before rushing into the store.

Once we’re alone, Elizabeth turns toward me and says, “When I was sixteen, I came to Paris for a ballet program, and I lived with my brother. Emmaline was one of the teachers in that program.”

“That’s how they met,” I say with a subtle gasp.

“Yes. After a year, she had to move home to Giverny, but Jack was already in love with her. He begged her to come back to Paris. So she did. Within a year, they were married, and Bea was born. That’s when she found out she was sick. I stayed with them through it all. She fought for three years, but the cancer wouldn’t go away.”

Tears prick my eyes as I turn to see Bea still perusing the candy section in the shop. Poor Emmaline. Poor Jack. Poor Bea. Poor Elizabeth. One cruel disease left so much despair in its wake.

“Em never danced after she came back to Paris, and my brother blames himself for that.”

“So he won’t even let Bea take lessons?” I ask.

“Jack won’t do anything that reminds him of Emmaline. I’m still in shock that he hired you.”

“Why?” I whisper.

“Because you’re French.”

My lips part, and I stare at Elizabeth as everything suddenly makes sense. That’s why he won’t let me speak. He can’t bear to hear my accent.

It feels like something in my heart both shatters and expands at the thought of my presence bringing Jack any pain. When did I start to care for him so much that the idea of hurting him hurtsme?

Bea comes bounding out of the shop a moment later, and I’m still reeling from this revelation.