stomach clenched. Was there a dire note in his tone of voice? Was his latest checkup not a good one? “Is everything all right?”
“Yes. Stop worrying. You worry far too much. I have something to show you,” he said. “I had a special delivery today.”
He led the way to the front room, with its fireplace and grand bay window projecting out over the laurel hedge. It was decorated in a spare, chic style that somehow worked with the architecture of the rustic old house. Over the mantel was a painting Camille had always admired, depicting a region in the south of France called the Calanques—the towering, rocky inlets along the coast of the deep blue Mediterranean. The painter had managed to capture the deep, golden quality of light Camille had always associated with Provence, even though she’d never been there. What had Finn said? No one’s life is complete until they’ve gone to the south of France. Camille had to admit that loneliness did make her life feel incomplete, but going to Provence wasn’t the answer.
In the middle of the room was a large cardboard shipping crate plastered with customs forms.
“What’s this?” she asked her father.
“It arrived late this afternoon from France. Madame Olivier had it shipped to me.”
“Wait. What?” Camille was confused. “Who is Madame Olivier, and why is she sending you something?”
“She lives at Sauveterre—my family home in Bellerive. It’s an ancient house, and a section of the roof caved in. While clearing the attic for the renovation, she came across a trunk full of my mother’s old belongings, and she thought I might like to have it.”
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