was so momentary she’d already forgotten about it. That wouldn’t be easy, but Josiane wasn’t afraid of a challenge. She’d been through worse and come out on the other side.
“We’re meeting them inside, you’re sure?” asked Hortense in the car. “This is so cool! I wouldn’t miss it for the world! An afternoon at the Ritz swimming pool, the height of luxury!” She sighed, stretching. “I don’t know why, but the moment we leave Courbevoie and cross the bridge into Paris, I feel I’m coming back to life. I hate the suburbs. Why did we go live there anyway, Mom?”
Joséphine ignored the question. She was looking for a parking spot. It was Saturday, and Iris had invited them to meet at her health club. “It’ll do you good, Jo. You seem so stressed out.” But finding a place to park near the Ritz was no easy task—and not exactly the most relaxing way to spend the afternoon. Everyone was out Christmas shopping. Joséphine kept driving around, craning her neck, as the girls grew more and more impatient.
“There, Mom! Right there!”
“No! That’s a no-parking zone, and I don’t want to get a ticket!”
“Oh, Mom, you’re such a buzzkill.”
That was their latest word for her, buzzkill. And the two of them used it constantly.
Just then, a car pulled out of a space right in front of them. Joséphine braked and put on her turn signal. The girls bounced up and down.
“Go for it, Mom! You can do it!”
Parallel parking wasn’t one of Joséphine’s strengths, but she managed to squeeze into the space. The girls clapped as she mopped her brow.
She sweated even more at the thought of walking into the hotel and dealing with the hotel staff. She was sure they would look down their noses at her, wondering what she was doing there. She found herself following Hortense, who seemed perfectly at ease, nodding distantly at the doormen in their livery.
“Have you been here before?” Joséphine whispered.
“No,” Hortense whispered back, “but I imagine the pool must be downstairs. And if we’re wrong, we’ll just turn around. These people work here. They’re paid to give us directions.”
Joséphine stuck close to her daughter, feeling as much out of her element as Hortense clearly felt in it. Zoé, meanwhile, was gazing in wonder at the glass cases filled with jewels, watches, and handbags.
“Wow, look at that one! I’ll bet it’s really, really expensive! Max Barthillet says that you can steal from the rich if you’re poor, because they don’t notice it, and it’s only fair.”
Joséphine was starting to think that maybe Hortense was right about this Max kid.
“Mom, look! A diamond egg!” exclaimed Zoé. “Do you think a diamond chicken laid it?”
At the club’s front desk, a beautiful young woman asked them their names, checked a big ledger, and confirmed that they were expected by Madame Dupin poolside. A scented candle flickered on the desk, and classical music wafted in from hidden speakers. Glancing at her feet, Joséphine felt ashamed of her cheap shoes. The young woman showed them to the dressing room and wished them a good afternoon. The three of them disappeared into their changing stalls.
Joséphine got undressed. She folded her bra carefully and rubbed at the marks it had left on her skin. She took off her tights and rolled them up, folded her T-shirt, sweater, and pants, and put everything into the locker reserved for her. Taking her bathing suit out of the plastic pouch where she’d stored it in August, she felt a stab of anxiety. She’d gained weight since last summer; would the bathing suit still fit her? She looked around and noticed a white bathrobe on a hanger. Saved!
She put on the robe and went looking for her daughters, who had gone ahead to find Iris and Alexandre.
Iris was lying on a wooden deck chair, looking sumptuous in her white bathrobe. A book was open on her knees. She was deep in conversation with someone Joséphine could see only from
“We’re meeting them inside, you’re sure?” asked Hortense in the car. “This is so cool! I wouldn’t miss it for the world! An afternoon at the Ritz swimming pool, the height of luxury!” She sighed, stretching. “I don’t know why, but the moment we leave Courbevoie and cross the bridge into Paris, I feel I’m coming back to life. I hate the suburbs. Why did we go live there anyway, Mom?”
Joséphine ignored the question. She was looking for a parking spot. It was Saturday, and Iris had invited them to meet at her health club. “It’ll do you good, Jo. You seem so stressed out.” But finding a place to park near the Ritz was no easy task—and not exactly the most relaxing way to spend the afternoon. Everyone was out Christmas shopping. Joséphine kept driving around, craning her neck, as the girls grew more and more impatient.
“There, Mom! Right there!”
“No! That’s a no-parking zone, and I don’t want to get a ticket!”
“Oh, Mom, you’re such a buzzkill.”
That was their latest word for her, buzzkill. And the two of them used it constantly.
Just then, a car pulled out of a space right in front of them. Joséphine braked and put on her turn signal. The girls bounced up and down.
“Go for it, Mom! You can do it!”
Parallel parking wasn’t one of Joséphine’s strengths, but she managed to squeeze into the space. The girls clapped as she mopped her brow.
She sweated even more at the thought of walking into the hotel and dealing with the hotel staff. She was sure they would look down their noses at her, wondering what she was doing there. She found herself following Hortense, who seemed perfectly at ease, nodding distantly at the doormen in their livery.
“Have you been here before?” Joséphine whispered.
“No,” Hortense whispered back, “but I imagine the pool must be downstairs. And if we’re wrong, we’ll just turn around. These people work here. They’re paid to give us directions.”
Joséphine stuck close to her daughter, feeling as much out of her element as Hortense clearly felt in it. Zoé, meanwhile, was gazing in wonder at the glass cases filled with jewels, watches, and handbags.
“Wow, look at that one! I’ll bet it’s really, really expensive! Max Barthillet says that you can steal from the rich if you’re poor, because they don’t notice it, and it’s only fair.”
Joséphine was starting to think that maybe Hortense was right about this Max kid.
“Mom, look! A diamond egg!” exclaimed Zoé. “Do you think a diamond chicken laid it?”
At the club’s front desk, a beautiful young woman asked them their names, checked a big ledger, and confirmed that they were expected by Madame Dupin poolside. A scented candle flickered on the desk, and classical music wafted in from hidden speakers. Glancing at her feet, Joséphine felt ashamed of her cheap shoes. The young woman showed them to the dressing room and wished them a good afternoon. The three of them disappeared into their changing stalls.
Joséphine got undressed. She folded her bra carefully and rubbed at the marks it had left on her skin. She took off her tights and rolled them up, folded her T-shirt, sweater, and pants, and put everything into the locker reserved for her. Taking her bathing suit out of the plastic pouch where she’d stored it in August, she felt a stab of anxiety. She’d gained weight since last summer; would the bathing suit still fit her? She looked around and noticed a white bathrobe on a hanger. Saved!
She put on the robe and went looking for her daughters, who had gone ahead to find Iris and Alexandre.
Iris was lying on a wooden deck chair, looking sumptuous in her white bathrobe. A book was open on her knees. She was deep in conversation with someone Joséphine could see only from
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