Celine giggled and pushed her hair out of her face. Even the scrunchi couldn't contain thethick brown curls. "Come in! Come in." He grinned and followed her into the living room. Celine's mother, Therese sat on the couch. Her face scrunched slightly when she and Rene's eyes met. He cleared his throat and nodded to her. "How are you, Therese." "Fine." Her tone was sharp, as it always was.Rene had the distinct feeling that Therese could see through him, see to his very soul and knew everything he'd never say. Celine took his hand as she sat next to her mother. "What is it?"Rene sat in the chair and leaned on his knees. "How would you like to perform in the 1988 Eurovision song contest?" "Me?" Celine stared at him, waiting or a punch line that wouldn't come. "You're kidding. I couldn't ... not in that huge of a singing competition." "Of course you can. You were requested specifically. They want you, Celine. That meansyou have more than the average chance of winning. I think, as your agent, it would be an excellent opportunity." "But that's a huge commitment! How long would I need to be there?"Rene tried to focus on the details of what he was offering, but his eyes flicked again and again to Therese. Something didn't seem right. She seemed paler than normal, weaker. Even her trademark glare seemed at half effort. After Rene paused a second too long, Celine followed his gaze, then gently put her hand on her mother's knee. "Maman, are you okay?
