Category:

The car barreled forward. She glanced at the villagers, their mouths open like the oval grille of her vehicle. She waved at them, acknowledging her good fortune. Francie believed her Delahaye to be a mirror of herself. The bright-blue color matched her eyes, just as the fiery-red interior matched her heart. Even the steering wheel on the right reflected how she viewed herself— American in personality, European in spirit.

Ahead she saw open road. She accelerated forward, catching a brief view of the sea in the distance, the swells flickering like candles as the sun called it a day. She sat back and relaxed her shoulders. Easy country driving from here on.

"This is more like it," said Mother. "Nice and peaceful. And slower, if you don't mind.

You've got a big week coming up. Let's not make it more difficult."

Francie nodded. The week ahead was going to be challenging. She had agreed to participate in the first- ever Riviera Fashion Week, an event honoring Paris as the couture capital of the world by celebrating the lifestyle of the French Riviera, the most glamorous destination in the world. Marcel Julien, Paris' leading fashion designer, was ecstatic that she had agreed to represent his line. And from her perspective, it would be a rare opportunity to get a peek inside an industry she found fascinating. Riviera Fashion Week kicked off in two days with a cocktail reception Saturday night, followed by three separate shows on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. It would be a hectic week, with leading French designers putting forward their best summer lines. Media, diplomats, and celebrities from around the world would attend. And as if that wasn't enough to fray one's nerves...

"You see that, don't you?" asked Mother, pointing. "Ahead on the right. Francie? Stop!"

That got her attention. Francie saw the bushes rustle up ahead. In a flash, a pair of deer bounded out. Her heart jumped. She shifted into neutral, then pushed down hard on the brake, lifting herself out of the seat. They came to a dead stop. The deers' hooves touched the ground once before they leaped into the brush on the other side, so synchronized that it looked athletic.

"Something on your mind, dear?" Mother tilted back, giving Francie a sideways glance. "Certainly not driving."

"No, Mother." She pulled back onto the road. Of course there was something on her mind, and her mother knew it. She was back at the Riviera for the first time in a year and almost sure to run into John Robie, despite her warnings to him. John, who had been the cause of last summer's whirlwind of mystery, adventure, and romance. By far the most exciting time of her life.

And completely unexpected. Francie had arrived at the Riviera in the middle of a police hunt for Le Chat, a legendary cat burglar separating wealthy women of the Côte d'Azur from their jewels. She'd figured out John was Le Chat, then discovered he hadn't been committing the crimes. Instead, he worked to clear his name and avoid prison by capturing the copycat thief himself.

And he had uncovered the burglar, a young woman named Danielle, who was now surprisingly married to John's friend, Paul Du Pre. John caught Danielle, then helped her elude the police, giving Francie her first glimpse of his principle of loyalty among thieves.

"He's on your mind, I know," said Mother. "He wasn't all that bad, as men go."

He wasn't bad at all. That was part of the problem. Her heart beat faster. She'd gotten to know John, and while she didn't condone his criminal past, she understood why he'd done it. She'd even empathized with him once she learned of his background. Francie was attracted to his smooth charm, brown- blond hair, chiseled features, and muscular build. And he was drawn to her, too. Very much so. It all happened so fast. They had parted ways on a road to Italy, where he hid for a while as the case wound down. She and her mother then traveled back to New York, and for several months she and John corresponded.

"Francie, I never quite understood—" said Mother.

"I don't understand!" she interrupted. "It's nothing I can point to, not a single thing. It's a feeling. Small comments, things he did, none of which mean anything on their own.

But add them all up, and I know."

Francie did know. She shifted gears and pressed forward, picking up speed. Once back in New York, she'd had time to reflect, to gain perspective. Little things she'd missed kept surfacing. She had learned the police were after John and his criminal friends, men he had spent time with in prison and later in the French Resistance. They all would have been sent back to prison had the copycat burglaries not been solved. Yet John had focused on clearing his name and told her if his plan didn't work, he'd leave the country and let those men "fend for themselves." Not what she'd expected from the man who espoused "loyalty among thieves." And just before they parted ways, a friend of his told her that John "was a thief...and takes what he wants." Those words still rung in her ears. He had wanted her, and she asked herself why. Did he want her, or was she just another jewel to be had, one that could ensure a different life? There were other instances, too, in which he put himself first. People like that could be tolerated and even enjoyed for a while. But in the long run, they made unsuitable partners.