“Maybe,” Eden demurred.
Just then, Sophia came through the double doors into the garden in a dressing gown, her hair hanging in a loose braid down her back.
“Good morning!” she smiled at Eden, who rose to pull out her chair, kissing her as she did.
The maid came out with coffee and Sophia sipped it carefully and put it back down.
Eden grinned. “It’s strong,” she said. “Try it with milk.”
Sophia poured milk and sugar both into her cup and tried again. “Are you taking me to your exhibition today?” she asked Eden.
Eden looked at her hands for a moment. “It’s so late already,” she began. She looked up. “We’ll wait until later in the week, perhaps.”
Sophia frowned, “I think you’re ashamed to have me among your artist friends.”
“Sophie! How could you say so? I only want to show you so many other things first, is all,” Eden insisted.
“Have you seen it, Eleanor?” Sophia asked, turning to the older woman.
“I have,” Eleanor answered in a neutral tone, shaking out the match she’d just used to light a cigarette. She glanced fleetingly at Eden, then smiled a little at Sophia, drew on her glasses and picked up the newspaper beside her coffee cup and opened it.
Sophia looked from Eleanor to Eden and sighed. “Well then, what will you show me today?”
“How about the Luxembourg Gardens?” she asked with a smile. “We’ll call on Bette. And then, perhaps, some shopping?”
“Shopping?” Sophia asked.
“It’s Paris, after all. Sylvie thought you might like a new dress.”
“A new dress?” Sophia thought of Sylvie Babin’s elegant ball gown. “Well, I suppose if you think I ought to…”
“Lovely,” Sophia said looking into her cup. Then, to the maid in the doorway, “Pardonez-moi, mais il n’y a pas du the?” And the woman hurried off to make Sophia tea.