Chéri hadn’t met most of the girls yet, because they were either working, outside exploring or keeping Sonia some company. They had generally spent a lot of time with the proprietress and had maybe decided to keep to themselves until their English improved, but they couldn’t deny how curious they were about their other colleagues. Chéri turned to see the redhead and smiled at her brightly, in that beautiful, heartwarming way he could summon with great ease. Maybe he was even sincere.

He waved at her and said, in French “I bet you have a redhead name, like Roxanne. And I bet you are also fiery. Pity we can’t chat.” Then they pointed their finger to their chest and said “Chéri,” then one to the cellar and said “I live here too now.” That wasn’t going to help, so they pointed their fingers at their chest once again and specified “Courtisane,” which was the overly elegant word Sonia had used for them.