The Paris Diversion (Kate Moore, #2)

by Chris Pavone

After weeks of rain and gray and increasingly hostile chill, today was an autumnal jewel, a reprieve that everyone knows will be brief, and the warm weather has drawn out not only throngs of tourists but also flocks of locals, it looks like everyone in Paris has arrived in a good mood at a surprise party, Kate cycles by young and old and everyone between, the cafés are all full, people packed onto the terraces, making conversation with strangers and neighbors, making out in corners, holding hands across tables filled with glasses of wine and bottles of beer, bowls of peanuts and ashtrays overflowing and half-eaten slices of tarte tatin, it’s still early enough that children are everywhere, playing on sidewalks and in the park, running and jumping and joyous noise, chasing balls and dogs and that final bit of fun before the unseen clock expires, and suddenly you’re called to come here, to go home, to go to bed, kids know this better than anyone, that you have to do it all right now, everything, because this can always happen without any warning whatsoever: you’re out of time.

Each of my novels ends with one long sentence that’s a short story in its own right, a passage that concludes the book’s action and themes while opening up the hint—the possibility—of a new story. I hope you enjoyed PARIS, and if you want to read more about Kate and these other characters—if you want to know everything that happened in Luxembourg—that’s what THE EXPATS is.