Partners—that was what they had been as children when sneaking burned loaves from Monsieur Picard’s bakery or eavesdropping on their parents’ plans for their birthdays. He smiled at her, the image of them as children racing through his mind. She didn’t grin, but she didn’t scowl either. Was she remembering the same antics he was? “Partners in crime,” he said, and she did smile slightly at that.
