Page 3 of Meet Me in Paris

I saw my thoughts reflected in Alexis’s face. She shifted in her seat. Even at age twenty-four, Alexis’s version of dressing up involved a yoga skirt with shorts underneath—yes, apparently that was a thing—a pair of sporty tennis shoes and a stretchy tank with straps that crossed in the back. She’d left with Dad during her freshman year, so I’d missed most of her high school career, but I could imagine how it went. Sports after school, games all weekend, and rejecting anything educational. I tried to envision her going to prom and smiled. If a guy asked her, she probably said no. That required something nicer than yoga pants, after all.

Or maybe she found some kind of yoga dress. Or even spray-painted a sports logo on her gown. The image made me chuckle inwardly.

Be nice,I chided myself. No matter Alexis’s decisions, she would always be my sister. But it grew harder to have acivil conversation with Alexis every time I saw her. In nine years, she’d only bothered to come home three times—to say goodbye to Mom, again for Mom’s funeral, and now, three days after we buried our grandfather.

And she didn’t have transportation issues or financial troubles. She drove a BMW likely bought by our father. If she’d wanted to come, nothing could have stopped her.

It was more than miles that separated us.

Eleanor looked as surprised at our reactions as we felt, so I straightened and reminded myself I was the oldest and should probably act accordingly. “I hope you’ll forgive us, Eleanor. It’s just that Grandpa Howie bought his clothes from the thrift store. I remember him bringing me there once when I lost one of my shoes to his dog.”

Alexis barked a laugh. “I asked him to drive me to the salon once because my bangs were in my eyes and I couldn’t see to play soccer. He took me into the bathroom and cut them himself. Even used my old preschool scissors because they were all we could find.”

“You looked like a sheared llama,” Jillian said, and the two smiled at each other. The twinge of hope I entertained fizzled and died when Alexis’s smile faded and she stared at her hands once again.

Eleanor spoke up. “I completely understand. Not all wealthy people flaunt their wealth. Some hide it. Your grandfather was one of those, which is probably why he died so wealthy.”

Jillian reached for my hand and squeezed it, looking nervous. Her long hair cascaded down her shoulders in loose waves I’d spent dozens of hours trying to emulate without success. She wore an open and innocent expression that made a person want to hug and protect her. Thatprecise expression had attracted plenty of men over the years.

Yet another reason I resented Mom’s being taken from us so early. I could handle the big-sister thing, but I didn’t know how to be a protective parent with the one person I had left in the world.

“Are you saying he left us money?” Alexis asked. “How much are we talking?”

I wanted to roll my eyes. “Lexi, have a heart. It hasn’t even been a week since he passed.”

She pinned me with a glare. “Hey, I loved Grandpa, too, but I have things to do, and I’m sure Eleanor’s busy. So let’s get to the point.”

I clamped my mouth, feeling a familiar resentment. Alexis and I were once the best of friends. We’d shared not only a room but our deepest secrets. She even gave me the piano music forPhantom of the Operaon my fourteenth birthday during my Phantom-obsessed days. Or weeks.

Okay, let’s be honest. It was probably years.

And then Alexis announced she’d be living with Dad, and Mom shut herself in her room and cried for three days straight. Hard not to harbor anger toward a sister who chose the wrong side.

Jillian and I shared a knowing look. Only a few more minutes and the Travell sisters could go their separate ways again.

Eleanor cleared her throat. “Ladies, it’s clear there’s some tension between you, which is completely normal. I have two brothers myself. But you’ll have plenty of time to work this out because your grandfather did indeed leave each of you a small fortune.”

Her words sounded all echo-y in my disbelieving ears. Had she used the term “small fortune”?

“There’s a condition,” Eleanor continued.

“Which is?” Alexis asked, straight-backed in her chair.

“Before you receive a cent, you must go on a monthlong European tour together.”

Her words blended in my mind until they no longer sounded coherent. Did she say . . . ?

“A European tour?” Jillian breathed.

“Together?” Alexis said with a groan.

“A month?” I repeated dumbly.

Being away an entire month would get me fired. Not that I loved my job at the travel agency, but it allowed Jillian and me to keep our childhood home. Mom’s life insurance paid for her funeral expenses and most of the medical bills, but not all. When we returned from this trip, I’d have to start all over. And in a town as small as ours, one didn’t have a whole lot of options.

But Europe. An old excitement arose inside.

“Your grandfather planned your trip in its entirety,” Eleanor said. “You’ll fly to France, then board a cruise ship that will take you around Italy and Greece. Then you’ll visit Switzerland, Austria, and Germany via train. Your trip will end in the UK, and you’ll enjoy London the last three days.”

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