Laughter rumbled from the storeroom. “Quelle surprise, for she’s a beast now.” Eloise Henri emerged from the doorway, wiping her hands on an otherwise pristine apron. The smell of honey and lavender filled the room with every step the lovely Créole girl took. Her dark skin shone beneath the length of colorful fabric wrapped around her head, its ends folded in an intricate fashion resembling the points of a crown.
“Antonia?” Eloise asked. “Would you mind coming to test the latest batch of cold cream, tout de suite? I added more lavender oil, and I think it’s quite an improvement, especially with your suggestion of a rosehip infusion.”
“Of course,” Antonia said, placing Queen Elizabeth on the floor beside the till.
“I can’t wait to try it,” Pippa chimed in. “Would you like me to offer my opinion?”
Eloise’s smile was warm. “Of course. I’d like everyone here to try it once it’s ready. I just haven’t quite mastered my mother’s recipe, and Antonia’s advice on medicinal herbs has been une révélation. Would you mind waiting until the next batch?”
Pippa nodded just as the mischievous corgi made an attempt to flee. A brief spate of chaos rang throughout the shop as the three young women attempted to corner the puppy, who decided the entire enterprise was a most amusing kind of game. Soon Antonia managed to capture the little queen, holding the corgi tightly as she followed Eloise into the storeroom with Pippa in tow. A moment later, the dog yipped in outrage. Likely she’d been returned to her little box in the corner to contemplate her actions. Antonia began to sing a Portuguese lullaby, her rich alto swirling through the air in tandem with the puppy’s cries.
Celine bit back a smile as she adjusted the chintz drapes around the front of the shop window until they hung just so. She stepped back, pleased with the overall effect. Soft fabric and jewel tones surrounded her. A tufted chaise covered in ivory damask lined the back wall, along with four matching stools, one for each corner. Framing three of the shop’s walls were freshly painted shelves lined with bolts of fabric, rolls of ribbon, and stacks of the newest fashion plates from Paris, bound like books by the ever-industrious Eloise. Oiled ladders glided along brass casters, reminding Celine of her favorite library on Rue de Richelieu in Paris.
Their shop was almost perfect.
To be sure, a few lingering issues remained. The sign in front of the shop had yet to be hung. Two of the covers for the gas lamps had cracked in transit, their replacements scheduled to arrive by the end of the week. But even before their doors were officially open, six orders had been placed. Two seamstresses in the Marigny had been hired to begin the work, based on Celine’s designs. Every so often, a potential customer would ring the bell outside or knock on the narrow double doors to make an inquiry.
Toting a rag and a bucket of sudsy water, Pippa emerged from the storeroom to begin cleaning Queen Elizabeth’s mess from the carpet.
“It’s nice to see you smile,” Pippa remarked as she rolled up her sleeves.
Celine turned in place. “Today has been a rather good day.”
Pippa beamed. “I agree.” She dipped the rag in the water and wrung it out. “And how did you fare last night? Did you sleep well?”
Celine’s smile faltered. “Of course.”
“Don’t lie to me, dearest. I heard you tossing and turning through the walls of our flat,” Pippa replied, her Yorkshire accent winding through the words. “Was it the same dream?”
Unease brought color to Celine’s cheeks. “I think so. But it’s . . . difficult to recall. Like trying to hold on to a handful of water.”
“Dreams often are.” Pippa’s expression turned pensive. She gnawed at her lower lip while she scrubbed the carpet. “And the doctor did say you would have trouble with your memory for the next few months because of your head injury.”
Celine pressed her fingers to her temple, irritation drawing her dark brows together.
Pippa stood at once, bubbles dripping down her hands. “Does your head hurt?”
“No. I’m just . . . frustrated.”
“Of course you are. Who wouldn’t be, given the situation?” She gnawed at her lip again.
“There’s no need to look so guilty, Pippa,” Celine joked. “You didn’t strike me in the skull or break my ribs.”
Pippa toyed with the chain of the golden cross around her neck. “You’re right. But perhaps . . . I could have done