It seemed like every time they left the country they managed to work in Paris. They had their rituals, la Pomme de Pain for bread, Les Pyrénées for café au lait, a Mont Blanc at Angelina’s when they were feeling reckless. Sabine knows which evenings the Musée D’Orsay isn’t crowded. She knows the hidden sale racks at Au Bon Marché. There is nothing left to surprise Sabine.
