“Watching cartoons is one of my rights,” Sam declares, jutting his chin up.

It used to be “May I watch a cartoon, please?” But Sam returned indoctrinated from his visit to his lawyer grandparents two weeks ago. His new tack for getting more TV time is rights-based. Luckily, he hasn’t tried it regarding forbidden foods—guess he hates having seizures too much to be tempted.

The last one he had in the swimming pool didn’t last long. According to Zach, it was nothing compared to the violent seizures he’d suffered weekly before starting on the new medicine and diet. Still, it scared me, making me realize how fragile the little fellow is. I did know about his epilepsy when I signed up, and both Zach and Mathilde had explained multiple times what to do in case of a seizure. But not having seen it happen, the seriousness of his condition had remained theoretical.

It’s a lot more real now.

The funny thing is, I’m also relieved I finally saw it and watched Zach handle the situation with total calm. Now I’m confident I won’t panic if Sam has another seizure when Zach is not around.

“May I please watch another one?” Sam asks, interpreting my delayed response as a no, and reverting to his old strategy.

“OK,” I say. “But just one more. After that, it’s snack time, and then you can look at your books until your playdate arrives.”

“Will you read for me?”

I smile. “I’ll read after your play date, OK? I’m having a video call with Marguerite soon.”

“Your fairy godmother?”

“That’s right.”

Sam nods and turns toward the television set.

My phone rings from the opposite end of the room just as Sam presses Play on the TV remote. I rush to answer the call.

Marguerite smiles from my screen and studies my face. “You look nice.”

“You, too,” I say.

She waves dismissively and points to her hair. “I need a new haircut. And my white roots are showing.”

“No, they’re not,” I say, peering.

Truly, they aren’t.

She sighs. “Enough about that. Have you talked to your parents lately?”

“Last week. They send their regards.”

“Oh, good.” She smiles. “So, they’ve forgiven me for sending you off to Paris.”

“They weren’t really cross with you to start with. Regardless of how much they want me to marry Giriraj, they do realize what an amazing opportunity you offered me. And they appreciate it.”

“Hmm.” She studies her nails. “I doubt they really appreciate your going to Paris, but at least we were able to convince them to let you take the course at Lesage. Are you getting excited? It starts in just three weeks.”

“I can’t wait!”

“Tell me…” she pauses, hesitating. “This Brahmin suitor of yours, Giriraj… You haven’t promised him anything, have you?”

I shake my head. “We haven’t even spoken to each other. He sent his parents to talk to my parents. You know how it’s done in Nepal.”

She tilts her head to the side. “I do. All right, let me rephrase the question. Did your parents promise anything to his parents?”

I can’t help a smirk. “No, Marguerite, they didn’t.”

“I’m that transparent, huh?”

“You?” I widen my eyes theatrically. “Never.”

She smiles. “I do know what an honor it is for your family to be approached by a Brahmin. And that it reflects well on you, of course. It’s just… you and Noah would make such an amazing couple!”

I stare down at my feet.

“He’s crazy about you,” she adds.

It’s not the first time she says this, but it’s the first time I’m not going to pretend I didn’t hear her. “How do you know that?”

“A mother’s instinct.” She studies my unconvinced expression. “Besides, he has told me as much.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes.”

She peers into my eyes, a little too intensely. I have no reason to doubt her words, and yet… “Why hasn’t he ever said anything to me?”

“He’s planning to, trust me. He just needs to work up the courage.”

We change the topic and discuss her current fundraising campaign to build a school for deaf children. I admire what she does so much I used to listen to Marguerite talk about her projects for hours on end, my hands busy embroidering. But I have a kid in my charge now—and I just heard the end credits music to his cartoon.

I wrap up with Marguerite and go over to stand between Sam and the screen.

“Uma, I can’t see anything,” he complains.

“That was my goal.”

He pouts.

I grab the remote and turn off the TV.

Slouching, Sam drags his feet to the bookshelf and pulls out two of his beautifully illustrated books.

“Since my video talk is over, I can read for you,” I offer.

His back straightens, and his eyes light up. “Yay!”

We sit down on the thick carpet and open the first book when I hear the key turn in the door.

Zach’s back from his meeting earlier than expected.

“We couldn’t agree on either the price list or timeframes, so there was no point dallying,” he explains, sitting down on the floor next to us. “I’ll need to find another supplier for those vitamins.”

Zach runs an Internet-based food supplement business, which gives him a good profit margin and lets him work from home most of the time.

He gives Sam a playful nudge. Sam tries to do the same to Zach, undeterred by the obvious hopelessness of his endeavor. While the boy’s attention is focused on his own Mission Impossible, Zach gives me a questioning look, the same one he gives every time he comes home after a few hours away.

I shake my head discreetly and smile. All is well, no seizures.

His face relaxes.

“Did the playdate get canceled?” he asks.

I glance at my watch. “Evan will be here in an hour.”

“Ah, good.” He looks at Sam whose face has reddened with effort and lets the boy shift him a little.

Sam throws his fists in the air. “Yes!”

“And what about you?” Zach asks me. “Did you have your weekly chat with Marguerite?”

I nod.

“I have the impression she calls you more often than she calls Noah,” he says with a smile.

I shrug. “Marguerite and I are very close. But it doesn’t mean she misses me more than she misses her son. She adores him.”

“I figured that much.” He gives me a funny look. “Noah deserves every bit of her love. He’s a great guy.”

“Yes, he is,” I say, suddenly uncomfortable.

Funny how the only times I’m not at ease around Zach are when we talk about Noah or Sophie. Or when he mentions his ex, Colette.

Zach beams as if he just remembered something good. “My club is invited to Provence next weekend to play a scrimmage match against the club from Avignon.”

“I can look after—”

He interrupts me. “I recall you wanted to see the lavender fields in bloom.”

“It’s been my dream for years!” I frown, reining in my enthusiasm. “But how—”

“Well, now is your last chance this year, because the lavender harvest is in a week or so.”

“But how—”

“I have a plan.” He winks at me before turning to Sam. “Just give me a sec to do this.”

Zach scoops the boy up and stands him on his head.

Sam giggles and leans on his hands and works to align his legs and torso into a straight line.

“Avignon is next door to Arles,” Zach says, propping Sam. “We’ll take the TGV train on Friday afternoon. I’ll drop you off at my parents’ place in Arles, rent a car, and go to Avignon for the match. Saturday evening, I’ll drive back to Arles, and on Sunday, we’ll do a stretch of the Lavender Route while Sam is chilling in his grandparents’ pool.”

A host of questions swarm in my head.

What is he implying by “we”? Him and me? Noah, him, and me? Since they’re on the same team, Noah must be going to Avignon, too. What about the tall and gorgeous Sophie whom Zach plans to date? Surely, he’ll invite her to come along.

But he just said he would drive back to Arles on Saturday. In singular.

My pulse ratchets up.

“Woohoo!” Sam yells as Zach helps him back onto his feet. “I love staying with Grandpa and Grandma!”

“Of course, you do.” Zach arches an eyebrow. “They have a pool, and they let you watch cartoons for as long as you want.”

“Are they free to look after him next weekend?” I ask.

Zach nods. “They are. And they look forward to meeting you.”

I force a smile, feeling thrilled, confused, scared, overjoyed, and a bunch of other things I don’t even know how to describe. Nor do I know how to fight the urge to give this wonderful man a big, tight hug. And possibly a kiss.

So, I mutter, “Thank you so much! I’ll be back.”

And I rush to my room.