Teresa was prepared with dozens of such verbal gambits.

Unfortunately, the moment she walked into the shop and saw

Raoul, everything flew out of her head. She simply stared at him, unable to speak.

"Bonjour," Raoul said cheerfully. "It's nice to see you again, Mademoiselle De Fosse."

"M—merci." She felt like an idiot. I'm thirty years old,

she told herself, and I'm acting like a silly schoolgirl.

Stop it.

But she could not stop it.

"And what may I do for you today?"

"I—I need more muslin."

Which was the last thing she needed.

She watched Raoul as he went to get the bolt of fabric. He set it on the counter and started to measure it out.

"How many yards would you like?"

She started to say two, but what came out was, "Are you married?"

He looked up at her with a warm smile on his face. "No," he said. "I haven't been that fortunate yet."

You are going to be, Teresa thought. As soon as Monique returns from Paris.

Monique was going to adore this man. They were perfect for each other. The thought of Monique's reaction when she met

Raoul filled Teresa with happiness. It would be lovely to have Raoul Giradot as her brother-in-law.

The following day as Teresa was passing the shop, Raoul caught sight of her and hurried outside.

"Good afternoon, mademoiselle. I was about to take a break. If you're free, would you care to join me for tea?"

"I—I—yes, thank you."

She was tongue-tied in his presence, and yet Raoul could not have been more pleasant. He did everything he could to put her at ease, and soon Teresa found herself telling this stranger things she had never told anyone before. They talked of loneliness.

"Crowds can make one lonely," Teresa said. "I always feel like an island in a sea of people."

He smiled. "I understand."

"Oh, but you must have so many friends."

"Acquaintances. In the end, does anyone really have many friends?"

It was as though she were speaking to a mirror image. The hour melted away quickly, and soon it was time for him to go back to work.

As they rose, Raoui asked, "Will you join me for lunch tomorrow?"

He was being kind, of course. Teresa knew that no man could ever be attracted to her. Especially someone as wonderful as Raoul Giradot. She was sure that he was kind to everyone.

"I would enjoy that," Teresa said.

When she went to meet Raoul the following day, he said boyishly, "I've been given the afternoon off. If you're not too busy, why can't we drive down to Nice?"

They drove along the Moyenne Corniche with his car top down, the city spread out like a magic carpet below them.

Teresa leaned back in her seat and thought: I've never been so happy. And then, filled with guilt: I'm being happy for

Monique.

Monique was to return from Paris the following day. Raoul would be Teresa's gift to her sister. She was realistic enough to know that the Raouls of the world were not for her.

Teresa had had enough pain in her life, and she had long since learned what was real and what was impossible. The handsome man seated beside her driving the car was an impossible dream she dared not even let herself think about.

They had lunch at Le Chantecler in the Negresco Hotel in

Nice. It was a superb meal, but afterward Teresa had no recollection of what she had eaten. It seemed to her that she and Raoul had not stopped talking. They had so much to say to each other. He was witty and charming, and he appeared to find Teresa interesting—really interesting. He asked her opinion about many things and listened attentively to her answers. They agreed on almost everything. It was as though they were soul mates. If Teresa had any regrets about what was about to happen, she resolutely forced them out of her mind.

"Would you like to come to dinner at the chateau tomorrow night? My sister is returning from Paris. I would like you to meet her."

"I'd be delighted, Teresa."

When Monique returned home the following day, Teresa hurried to greet her at the door.

In spite of her resolve, she could not help asking, "Did you meet anyone interesting in Paris?" And she held her breath, waiting for her sister's answer.

"The same boring men," Monique replied.

So God had made the final decision.

"I've invited someone to dinner tonight," Teresa said. "I think you're going to like him."

I must never let anyone know how much I care for him,

Teresa thought.

That evening at seven-thirty promptly, the butler ushered

Raoul Giradot into the drawing room, where Teresa, Monique,

and their parents were waiting.

"This is my mother and father. Monsieur Raoul Giradot."

"How do you do?"

Teresa took a deep breath. "And my sister, Monique."

"How do you do?" Monique's expression was polite, nothing more.

Teresa looked at Raoul, expecting him to be stunned by

Monique's beauty.

"Enchanted." Merely courteous.

Teresa stood there holding her breath, waiting for the sparks that she knew would start flying between them. But

Raoul was looking at Teresa.

"You look lovely tonight, Teresa."

She blushed and stammered, "Th—thank you."

Everything about that evening was topsy-turvy. Teresa's plan to bring Monique and Raoul together, to watch them get married, to have Raoul as a brother-in-law—none of it even began to happen. Incredibly, Raoul's attention was focused entirely on Teresa. It was like some impossible dream come true. She felt like Cinderella, only she was the ugly sister and the prince had chosen her. It was unreal, but it was happening, and Teresa found herself struggling to resist

Raoul and his charm because she knew that it was too good to be true, and she dreaded being hurt again. All these years she had hidden her emotions, guarding against the pain that came with rejection. Now, instinctively, she tried to do the same. But Raoul was irresistible.

"I heard your daughter sing," Raoul said. "She is a miracle!"

Teresa found herself blushing.

"Everyone loves Teresa's voice," Monique said sweetly.

It was a heady evening. But the best was yet to come.

When dinner was finished, Raoul said to Teresa's parents,

"Your grounds look lovely." Then he turned to Teresa. "Would you show me the gardens?"

Teresa looked over at Monique, trying to read her sister's emotions, but Monique seemed completely indifferent.

She must be deaf, dumb, and blind, Teresa thought.

And then she recalled all the times Monique had gone to

Paris and Cannes and St. Tropez looking for her perfect prince but had never found him.

So it's not the fault of the men. It's the fault of my sister. She has no idea what she wants.

Teresa turned to Raoul. "I would love to."

Outside, she could not let the subject drop.

"How did you like Monique?"

"She seems very nice," Raoul replied. "Ask me how I like her sister."

And he took her in his arms and kissed her.

It was like nothing Teresa had ever experienced before.

She trembled in his arms, and she thought: Thank you, God.

Oh, thank you.

"Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?" Raoul asked.

"Yes," Teresa breathed. "Oh, yes."

When the two sisters were alone, Monique said, "He really seems to like you."

"I think so," Teresa said shyly.

"Do you like him?"

"Yes."

"Well, be careful, big sister," Monique laughed. "Don't get in over your head."

Too late, Teresa thought helplessly. Too late.

Teresa and Raoul were together every day after that.

Monique usually chaperoned them. The three of them walked along the promenades and beaches at Nice and laughed at the wedding-cake hotels. They lunched at a charming bistro at Cap d'Antibes, and visited the Matisse chapel in Vence. They dined at the Chateau de la Chevre d'Or, and at the fabulous