Page 35 of The Stranger

“We have been to London many times, idiot,” Felix retorts.

“Fais gaffe à toi,” I say in a warning tone. Watch yourself.

“I just meant that Emmy says some of the places will be boring to visit,” he mutters as he pulls out a chair.

“You could go to Monopoly Lifesize,” Primrose suggests. “That’s in London.”

“What is that?” Sylvie cants her head with the question, and Primrose’s mouth gives a thoughtful little twist.

“It’s an immersive game of Monopoly, I suppose.”

Sylvie frowns. “Im-er-seive,” she says, sounding the word out.

“You become a part of the game.”

“How?”

“The board is people-sized and, instead of the little silver hat or the car or whatever, you move around the game in their place.”

“You are the hat?” My daughter’s eyes widen as her attention swings my way. I shrug in answer.

“But how do you buy property? With cash?” The minute the words are out, Felix seems to regret showing interest. Perhaps board games aren’t cool.

“No, you complete challenges for the chance instead.”

“Sounds stupid,” he grumbles, but I can see his interest is piqued.

“I want to do people-sized Monopoly!” Sylvie says, clapping her hands together. “Can we go, Papa?” She swings around, her cornflower blue eyes wide and pleading. “Please? Please?”

“Perhaps another time.”

Her chair scrapes, and I suddenly find my face in her hands. “But there is no school and you promised we could do fun things in the summer.”

“And we will, mon chou,” I say, moving her hands and kissing the backs of each.

“But—”

“We’re going to Casa Alegría, remember?”

My daughter’s mouth gives a thoughtful pull. Lifesize Monopoly might sound fun but our finca, our estate in Mallorca is her favorite place in the world.

“Can we play Monopoly next time we’re in London?”

“Of course, but for now, the house awaits.”

“Yes! And sailing and fishing and picking fruit from the trees. Oh, and Bouton will be there!”

“That dog has fleas,” Felix mutters.

“Lies!” Sylvie spins around to face her brother. “I wouldn’t care if he did have fleas because I love him, and Primrose will love him too.”

“Oh, sweetie, I can’t⁠—”

Before my daughter’s expression crumbles, I cut in. “Wait—Primrose can’t wait for you to show her around the estate.”

“Yes!” My daughter throws her hands up in the air.

The nanny glares. “I think you might be laboring under a misapprehension,” she mutters through gritted teeth.