“I hope not,” her father said, trying not to laugh. “If you’re the chief engineer now, we’re in big trouble.” As he said it, he walked her back into the kitchen, and then went to congratulate his plumbers and engineers for their good work. He was always deft at handling his staff, and they liked working for him, although he could be tough at times. He expected a great deal of them and himself, and everyone agreed that he ran a tight ship. It was his training and what the hotel guests loved; they could rely on a high standard of excellence if they stayed at the Vendôme. Hugues ran it to perfection.

When he came back to the kitchen, Heloise was eating a cookie and chatting with the pastry chef in French. He always made her French macarons, and she took them to school for lunch. “What about your homework, young lady? What happened to that?” her father asked her seriously, and Heloise opened her eyes wide and shook her head.

“I don’t have any, Papa.”

“Why is it that I don’t believe you?” He looked carefully into the big green eyes.

“I did it all before.” She was lying to him, but he knew her well. She much preferred cruising around the hotel to sitting in the apartment alone doing her homework for the Lycée.

“I saw you in my office making paper clip necklaces when you got back from school. I think you’d better check again.”

“Well, maybe I have just a little math to do,” she said sheepishly, as he took her hand in his own and led her to the back elevator. She had left a pair of red clogs there when she waded into the flood and retrieved them now for the ride upstairs.

As soon as they arrived in the apartment, Hugues changed his suit and shoes. The cuffs of his trousers, and his shoes, were soaked from his brief visit to the basement. He was a tall, thin man with dark hair and the same green eyes as Heloise’s. Her mother was an equally tall blonde with blue eyes. The great-grandmother that Heloise had been named after had had red hair like Heloise.