One Summer in Paris(44)

There was a knock on the door and their food arrived.

Audrey resisted the temptation to snatch it out of their hands.

They unloaded the food onto the table and then raised the silver domes with a dramatic flourish that seemed deserving of a round of applause.

Audrey struggled to keep her eyes from rolling, but then she caught Grace’s eye and saw she was laughing. Relieved, Audrey allowed herself to smile, too.

When they were on their own again, Grace pushed a large bowl of fries toward her. “I ordered two large bowls. If you’re anything like my daughter, Sophie, you’ll eat them both.”

“I can’t believe anyone could find a hairdresser scary. I mean, this place is scary. Serious-looking waiters, terrifying menus, all that shiny gold everywhere— What’s that?” Audrey pointed to something red in a small bowl. “It’s not snail’s blood or anything?”

“It’s ketchup.”

“No kidding.” Audrey poked it with her knife to check. “I’ve only ever had ketchup from a bottle.”

“Me, too. I wonder if they employ someone specifically to decant ketchup into tiny bowls?”

Audrey decided that Grace might look stuffy, but she didn’t act stuffy. She dipped a fry in the ketchup, forcing herself to pause before devouring the steak. “How can a hairdresser be scary?”

“It isn’t the individual that’s scary, but the power they wield.”

“Power?”

“Yes, power. They have the power to make you look awful. A cut too short, a color too bright—” Grace had ordered fish, and she filleted it neatly, slicing down the back and carefully removing the bone. It came out whole, like something out of a cartoon.

Audrey stared, impressed. “I want to learn to do that.”

“Bone a fish? It’s not hard.”

Audrey found a lot of things hard that other people didn’t. The one thing she was confident talking about was hair. “If a color is too bright, you just need to ask them to put a toner on it, that’s all. If the cut is too short—” she shrugged “—that’s hard. I suppose you could have extensions, but that’s a nuisance. Better to make sure you want to go short before you do it.” She narrowed her eyes and studied Grace. “You’d look great with short hair. You have good bones. It would emphasize the shape of your face and make your eyes stand out. In a good way,” she said as she tucked into her steak, “not in a bulbous eyes insect way.”

“That’s a relief. Bulbous insect isn’t the best look.” Grace took a small mouthful of fish. “I’ve always been too scared to have it cut.”

Audrey chewed. She’d never tasted anything like the steak. “You’ve never had it short?”

“I’m too much of a coward.”

“I could show you what it would look like. All I’d need is some pins and hairspray.” Audrey cut another piece off her steak. “This is delicious. And the ketchup is the same as home. I bet it actually did come from a bottle. Is this your first trip to Paris?”

“Second. Last time I visited, I was your age.”

“No kidding.” Audrey realized she’d consumed an entire bowl of fries. Grace hadn’t eaten a single one. “Who did you stay with?”

“A family. They had a daughter my age, and a son a few years older. He was a talented pianist.”

“So this son—” Audrey shoveled food into her mouth “—where is he now?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about him for years.”

Audrey saw the flush spread across her cheeks and grinned. “But you’re thinking about him now. Did the two of you have a thing?”

“No, we didn’t have a ‘thing.’”

They’d had a thing.

Audrey wondered if Grace had taken her tights off.

“But you liked him. And he liked you.”

“It was complicated.” Grace pushed the other bowl of fries toward her. “Finish these, too, or I’ll be tempted.”

Audrey didn’t need encouragement. She was happy to consume anything put in front of her.

“They’re delicious.”

“Were you busy today? How was the bookshop?”

Your average nightmare.

She almost told the truth, but she didn’t trust Grace. She didn’t trust anyone.

“It was great, thanks.”

“Good.” Grace stood up. “I’ll ask them to clear the table, and we can have dessert.”

The sun was setting over Paris, red streaks fingering their way across a darkening sky.

Audrey wondered what Etienne was doing. Probably having wild French sex with some bookish person.

Afterward, instead of lighting a cigarette, they probably opened a book and read together.

A team of uniformed staff appeared in the suite and cleared the table.

A man handed Audrey another menu.

“What’s this?”

“For dessert, mademoiselle.” He hovered, waiting for her to choose and Audrey felt her palms start to sweat.

She was about to say that she didn’t want anything, when Grace turned to the waiter.

“We’ll call down when we’ve chosen.” Her tone was cool. “Thank you.” She walked the man to the door of the suite and closed it firmly behind him.