The nerve! The utter gall! After what he'd done, did he actually think I would forgive him? That I would ever want to see him again?

Well, apparently he did, because there he stood, and with a shopping bag in hand no less.

I crossed my arms and waited. Eventually, LaCroix pulled from the bag the white shirt, plaid skirt, knee-high socks, and maryjane shoes. Then he walked to the fireplace and tossed them in.

"Nicholas," LaCroix said. "I promise never again to ask you to dress as a naughty school girl." Then he raised an eyebrow, as if asking me to forgive him.

Well, I might, but he had to accept my one condition first. I pulled out my own shopping bag and handed it to him. He looked inside.

"Very well, Nicholas, a French maid it is -- but I DON'T do windows."