Chapter 39It was late in the evening, and the lights of Antibes were being extinguished, one villa, one yacht, at a time. The moon hung low over the cliff, like a giant ripe orange, keeping Ruth company while she jotted down some ideas for her current, in-progress novel.
A day later, Samuel’s last words to her were still ringing in Ruth’s head, reminding her of a truth which said that not all things start when they begin, and that not all things end when they are over.
“A big thanks to our Nili for her devotion to you,” Macaire said, stoking the embers in the hearth with a fire iron.
Ruth removed her reading glasses. “I quite got the idea she was glad to be rid of me. I can just picture them now, playing house with the children—who, by the way, seemed equally tickled by the prospect of
