The restaurant was on a side street off the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré that most people walked past without seeing because it did not advertise itself in any way that invited casual attention. No sign above the door, no menu in the window, no indication from the outside that anything of significance was happening within. Just a dark green door in a pale stone wall and the knowledge, if you had it, that behind it was the best sole meunière in the eighth arrondissement and tables that were spaced far enough apart that a conversation could be a conversation rather than a performance.
I had been coming here for three years.
I had never brought anyone.
I did not examine this fact too closely as I held the door open and she walked past me into the warm interior and stopped just inside the t
