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We were standing, Miranda and I, in front of the Hotel La Mirande, an elegant little jewel box tucked into the dead-end street behind the Palace of the Popes I’d stumbled upon La Mirande only forty-five htly bruised, very irate Frenchwoman

I had never stayed in a place this fancy, and surely never would — the rooht — but how could I pass up a chance to take Miranda to a swanky restaurant that bore her na the motion detector and alarood chance to catch up with Miranda — and to learn more about her prior history with this pretentious pedant who ist

I pulled a glossy brochure froround about your establishment”

She took a look and laughed “Ooh, architectural erotica — e offers a dreahteenth-century décor… Behind its stunning façade, La Mirande exudes the say of life of yesteryear” She surveyed the exterior, an elegant neoclassical coargoyles and angels, gods and goddesses, sunbursts and swirls of cake frosting in stone “Stunning façade indeed,” she concurred “The façade,” she added, “is fro date back to the early thirteen hundreds, when a cardinal — a nephew of Pope Clement the Fifth — built his palace on the site” She was enjoying this, and that pleased o inside and show them what chic cosmopolites we are”

If the hotel’s exterior was quietly elegant, its interior was al in its richness Crystal chandeliers and sconces glittered everywhere; paintings and statues and flowers filled the spaces, set against backdrops of gilded wallpape

r, brocaded drapes, rich paneling, sumptuous sofas and chairs An interior courtyard was set with candlelit dining tables; so was a lush outdoor garden that offered spectacular views of the floodlit walls of the Palace of the Popes Miranda flitted from space to space, statue to statue, ruffle to flourish, her face bea “This place is so excellent,” she exclaimed “You could probably pay onna cost, but zer, Dr B, how gorgeous” She laughed, a fountain of delight “I know money can’t buy happiness, but damn, it sure can open doors to places that make me smile”

We ate in one such place, a linen-draped, candlelit table in a corner of the hotel’s garden Fairy lights twinkled in the trees around us; above us soared the graceful s of the papal chapel, flanked by a pair of massive towers

We were ht sea bass” for her — before I worked up the nerve to go on le for details about Stefan When I wasn’t busy bristling at his pretentiousness, I had realized, I was fretting about so else I’d seen the way he looked at her, heard the way she spoke to hiiality; a faht have once been, intimacy It’s none of my business, I scoldedthe lure “Stefan’s quite a character,” I said casually “Remind me how you know him?”

She didn’t exactly take the bait — her gi cross-examined — but she answered the question anyway “Re in Guateraduate school?” I nodded “He was a crew leader I worked under him”

I raised my eyebrows at the phrase “worked under him” I expected her to roll her eyes at that and fire back one of her signature smart-ass retorts Instead, she turned cri in butter and seaweed sauce “Sorry, Miranda I didn’t , or meant to be I think I hope”

She looked up, slightly defiant but also vulnerable “It’s okay I had it coet involved with him in Guatemala, and I shouldn’t have I was a kid, and he was h he said that didn’t really matter, because the French don’t mind infidelity—‘We approve of extramarital affairs,’ he said Exact quote He approved, turns out, but his wife didn’t”

“And you know this how?”

“Because she ca surprise When she found ernails and teeth”

“Ah That would imply a certain level of disapproval”

“She took the next flight holass of red wine “I’m also embarrassed that I still feel aard about it It’s been five years It shouldn’t still bother me”

“Says who?”

“Myself My inner critic My friends who have hookups and don’t think twice about it, who act as if sharing a bed with so a taxi or a park bench I’ve just never been able to be that nonchalant about the whole sex thing” She spun the steers; the wine swirled up the sides, then sheeted back down “I feel guilty about Stefan’s ht still be married”

“Maybe But maybe uy Poht hiht him with someone else, don’t you think?”

“Oh, probably Much as I’d like to believe I’ special, I probably wasn’t Stefan’s only…extracurricular activity”

“Sounds like he had his sales pitch down pretty well ‘Ah, chérie, I am ze Frenchman I hed at the parody, and I felt doubly glad — glad toStefan “But you knohat, Miranda?” I caught and held her eyes; she looked back skittishly “Even if Stefan’s a wo about the other thing You are so and brave and spirited You’re a”