One Summer in Paris(45)

Audrey stared hard at the menu, feeling as if someone was shining a big spotlight on her.

She felt Grace’s hand on her shoulder.

“Is it dyslexia?”

“What? What are you talking about?” Audrey felt her face burn and slumped slightly in her chair. “How do you know that?”

“One of my students with dyslexia struggles with left and right. You remind me a little of her although no two people struggle in exactly the same way, of course. I’ve worked with lots of children and young adults who have dyslexia. It’s very common.”

Feeling exposed and vulnerable, Audrey put the menu down. “It doesn’t bother me much.”

Yeah, right.

Grace picked up the menu. “Tell me your favorite dessert and I’ll order.”

Audrey felt the pressure in her stomach ease. “Anything chocolate.”

“And I love ?le Flottante. Literally that means floating islands. It’s meringues on crème anglaise. It’s much better than it sounds.”

“It sounds gross.”

“I’m sure it will be delicious. I’ll order that and a chocolate tart.”

Audrey shrugged. No way was she eating a snail, but she could probably force down a floating island, particularly if it was followed by chocolate.

In the end the desserts were delicious, and she wolfed down both.

Grace ate a tiny portion of each. “Are you planning on going to French classes?”

“No.” Audrey scraped her plate clean. Could she lick it? No. That was probably going too far. “I’ll look up anything I need.”

“I can help, if you’d like me to. I can teach you the basics. I could help you with reading, too.”

Audrey put the spoon down. Who was this woman? First a free meal, and now this. Why on earth would she offer to help a stranger? “What’s in it for you?”

Grace blushed. “I like helping.”

There had to be a catch. Even her teachers hadn’t wanted to help her and they’d been paid.

People didn’t do that, did they? They didn’t help for no reason.

It felt weird to Audrey, and suddenly all she wanted was to get out of there. “No thanks. I’m good.” She stood up. “I guess I don’t have to wash up, so I’ll go now and maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Audrey—”

“The food was great, thanks. And I’m glad your ankle is better.” Audrey shot toward the door before Grace could intercept her.

French lessons? She’d rather eat a snail.

And why would Grace offer to help someone she didn’t even know? Audrey had no idea, but there had to be a reason and she didn’t intend to hang around long enough to find out.





Grace


“Table for one, please.” Grace hovered at the entrance to the hotel restaurant, trying to look as if a table for one was her choice. She’d been here for four days and it still felt strange. Maybe she should find a café for breakfast instead.

Before this holiday, when had she last eaten alone?

The answer was never. There was always someone with her. David. Sophie. Mimi. Monica. Her life was filled with a small circle of people she loved and trusted. And that wasn’t an accident. She’d chosen a life that was safe. Everything in her life was planned and scheduled, from her teaching to her socializing. She planned a week’s worth of meals and laid her clothes out the night before. Chaos wasn’t allowed to peep through the crack in the door.

Here she was, faced with a whole month of empty days, and she had no idea what to do with the time. It was like swimming every day in a single roped-off lane of the local swimming pool, and then suddenly finding yourself alone in open water.

Fortunately, she had a life belt. In her bag was a guidebook of Paris that would enable her plan how she was going to spend her time.

As the waiter led her to a small table by the window, Grace smiled at the people at the table nearest to hers. They didn’t smile back.

Did she look desperate?

Probably. She might have invited Audrey to join her for another meal, but she’d scared her away with her offer to teach her French and help her to read. And she was furious with herself. Why was it that she always had to step in and fix everything?

It was an infuriating habit, and Audrey clearly thought so, too.

Yet another person she’d driven away.

The list was growing.

Feeling depressed, she took the menu from the waiter.

“Thank you.”

“And will Monsieur Porter be joining you today?”

“Not today.” And not any day soon. Monsieur Porter was eating breakfast with another woman, probably while naked.

She ordered coffee, placed the menu on the table and pulled the guidebook out of her bag without enthusiasm. What should she do today? Normally at this point she and David would be haggling. Her love was art galleries, and his was food so whenever they traveled they compromised.

Today there was no need for compromise. She could do whatever she pleased.

But what was that? There had never been a time when she hadn’t had to take someone else’s feelings into account. She wasn’t sure she even knew what she wanted.

Maybe she’d start with the Louvre. She’d ask the con cierge to make her a lunch reservation somewhere nearby. And perhaps they’d be able to book her tickets to a concert.