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moving back to France, so Chantal was alone. She had done her job too well. Her flock had flown.
    She always said she was grateful that her work kept her busy, and she visited her children from time to time but didn’t want to intrude on them. They had their own lives and expected her to have her own. Her only regret was that she had been so dedicated to them, and busy with them, that she had made no effort to get seriously involved with a man while they were young. And by now she hadn’t met a man who interested her in years. So she worked harder than she might have if she’d had someone to share her life, or if her children lived near. But she was busy and happy and never complained about her solitude, although Jean-Philippe worried about her and wished she’d meet someone so she wouldn’t be so alone. Once in a while, she admitted to him how lonely it was to have her children so far away, but most of the time she stayed busy with her friends, had a positive attitude about life, and she added fun and intellectual sophistication to every occasion.
    The rest of their group that night had also been to the White Dinner before, as Jean-Philippe and Valerie’s guests, with the exception of a lovely Indian man they had met in London the year before. Dharam Singh was from Delhi, one of the most successful men in India, and a technology genius. He was consulted by high-tech firms all over the world and was a charming, unassuming, very attractive man. He said he had business in Paris in June, so they had invited him to the dinner, especially for Chantal, since she didn’t have a man to bring and needed someone at her table. Jean-Philippe was sure they’d get along, although Dharam’s taste seemed to run to very beautiful, very young women. If nothing else, the Dumases were sure that Dharam and Chantal would be good dinner partners and find each other interesting.
    Dharam was fifty-two and divorced, with two grown children in Delhi. His son was in the business with him, and his daughter was married to the richest man in India, had three children, and was a spectacularly beautiful woman. Dharam’s white suit, made by his tailor in London, made him look very handsome and exotic, as he sat across from Chantal. She had brought the tablecloth and table settings, and the meal, and he had added caviar in a silver bowl, champagne, and excellent white wine.
    Chantal looked lovely that night and as always younger than her years with a trim figure, still youthful face, and long blond hair. She and Dharam were already deep in conversation about filmmaking in India and enjoying each other’s company as he opened their champagne, and he had brought a bottle for Valerie and Jean-Philippe too. Several of the tables shared their food, and there was a congenial, festive atmosphere throughout. It was amazing to think that seven thousand people were dining elegantly and having a good time. And by nine-thirty everyone was sitting and the party was under way, as wine was poured, hors d’oeuvres were passed around, old friends were rediscovered, and new ones were made.
    There was a table of younger people just behind them, with some very pretty girls in their midst, whom Gregorio and Dharam had already spotted, and then pretended not to notice, focusing on the people at their table. Jean-Philippe and Valerie had put together an attractive, lively group who were clearly having a good time as everyone laughed and had fun, as the sun set slowly, and the last rays reflected off the glass of Notre Dame. It was an exquisite sight. The church bells had tolled almost as soon as they had arrived, greeting them. And the priest had come out on the balcony to wave at them and make them feel welcome.
    Half an hour later the sun had set, and the entire square in front of Notre Dame was candlelit, with candles on every table. Jean-Philippe strolled around to make sure that all his guests were having a good time. He stopped to talk to Chantal, and for just a