Girl Three by Tracy March

hadn’t spoken. “Perhaps the picture that has you so intrigued is the best Sam could do for a family portrait.” She turned her back and headed for the bar, her heels ticking on the marble.
    Ian hesitated, as if weighing his options. “Excuse me.” He strode away, following Helena.
    “We really thought a lot of Sam,” Elizabeth said, ignoring the awkwardness. “It’s all such a tragedy.” She turned to Philippe and ran her fingers down the lapel of his jacket. “I’m going to call and check on Liam.” She reached for Jessie’s hand. “It was good to meet you. Terrible circumstances. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.” She pulled her phone from her purse and walked away.
    “Our son’s with the nanny,” Philippe said. “Elizabeth worries needlessly. Liam’s a happy child wherever he is.” His French accent made his words sound like a melody.
    “How old is your son?”
    “Almost one.” Philippe took out his phone and showed her a picture of the rosy-cheeked, tow-headed boy, sitting on a folksy rocking horse. He looked at the child with genuine devotion. “He’s the reason—” His eyes welled, and he covered his mouth with his fist.
    Jessie waited, touched by his sensitivity, yet unsure how to react.
    Philippe put away his phone and drew in a long breath, regaining his composure. “Having Liam has changed my life. He’s this little innocent who depends on Elizabeth and me for everything. Today, tomorrow, his future. It’s exciting…and terrifying.”
    His openness surprised Jessie. “He’s precious,” she said. “I couldn’t think of a better raison d’être .”
    A curious grin matched a glint of humor in his eyes. “You speak French?”
    “ Non .”
    His grin widened into a smile that mirrored Jessie’s, and he held her gaze until she looked away. They remained quiet for a moment, the crowd noise filtering out into the promenade.
    “I remember the picture you were asking about,” Philippe said. “We were celebrating the opening of Geneticell.”
    “The research lab?”
    He nodded and drained his glass of champagne. “It was a success for all of us.”
    “How so?”
    “Helena and Sam lobbied for the cause, Elizabeth had introduced research legislation, Ian is happy when Helena is happy, and I’d arranged for venture funding from Canada.”
    “What exactly do you do?” Jessie had a general idea from her online research, but she wanted to hear his version.
    He seemed pleased that she’d asked. “I’m Canada’s Counselor of Science and Technology, which can be a kind of catch-all. Basically, I negotiate international partnerships like the one we have between the U.S. and Geneticell.”
    She vaguely remembered seeing his name somewhere, before she’d received the picture yesterday. “I’ve written articles about embryonic—”
    “I know,” he said. “I read The Oliver Report .”
    Heat rose in her face. She wanted people to know about her work, but facing her readers in person made her feel exposed.
    “Washington is hardly a place where you can hide behind a byline,” he said, as if he had heard her thoughts. “Neither is national television, although you have a knack for it.” He unbuttoned his jacket and leaned against the balcony rail.
    Self-consciously, she imagined him and countless other people watching her talking head on some news show, but that wasn’t important right now. She had to ask questions while she had the chance. “What was Sam doing for the Hope Campaign?”
    Something behind Jessie captured his attention. “Come by the embassy tomorrow and I’ll show you.”
    “Could you please tell me now?”
    Philippe’s eyes remained trained on whatever was behind Jessie. “Not a good idea.”
    She heard the ticking of heels. Helena came up next to her with a fresh martini in her hand. She fingered the fabric of Jessie’s shawl and shook her head. “I don’t think Sam wore a shawl with that dress.” She took a sip of her drink. “It