“Tell me it isn’t true,”

Paris's suburbs exploded with spring, all around the exclusive hotel that Cynthia and the Robinsons stayed in were trees draped in shy pink cherry blossoms along with beautiful magnolia and wisteria blooms, the air itself had a floral scent to it as it blew in Gloria's room through the opened windows.

It was all very fishy.

Cynthia and George exchanged a look, both were simultaneously sipping on the tea that was served with sugar coated small pastry and mini croissants. George's eyes found his mother's ones that were fixed on anything but his wife and him.

'She always had a habit of taking the bitterness out of a difficult conversation by serving something sweet at first,' George thought fondly, it was a bit nostalgic, a tactic she used with him many times before she got a divorce and moved to France. 

Cynthia placed her teacup on the table, "Did you have a pleasant flight, Robert?" She asked with a polite smile.