"I feel our thinking is probably very close on this," Cazaux said, lowering his voice. "A dilemma for me because my government prefers to maintain the status quo, reduce unemployment, and pacify les conservatives. This treaty is the only way we can pass economic benefits on throughout Europe, standardize trade, and get uniform guidelines."

"I understand," Hartmuth said, not eager for Cazaux's added pressure. No more needed to be said.

The two men rejoined Quimper and the other delegates in the hall. More kissing and jovial greetings were exchanged. Hartmuth excused himself as soon as it was diplomatically possible and escaped down the staircase. He paused on the marble landing, a floor below, and leaned against an antique tapestry, a forested scene with a naked wood nymph stuffing grapes into her mouth, juice dribbling down her chin.

As he stood there, alone between floors, Sarah's face appeared to him in a vision, her incredibly blue eyes laughing. What he wouldn't give to change the past!

But he was just a lonely old man full of regrets he'd tried to leave behind with the war. I'm pathetic, he thought, and waited for the ache in his heart to subside to a dull throb.

Thursday Afternoon

A PUNGENT SMELL OF cabbage borscht clung to the hallway of 64 rue des Rosiers. Abraham Stein answered Aimee's knock, his faded maroon yarmulke nestled among his gray streaked black curls, a purple scarf riding his thin shoulders. She wanted to turn away, ashamed to intrude upon his grief.

"What do you want?" he said.

Aimee twisted her hair, still damp from swimming, behind her ears.

"Monsieur Stein, I need to talk with you about your mother," she said.

"This isn't the time." He turned to close the door.