One Summer in Paris(84)

“Twenty-five minutes.”

“That seems quite a distance.”

Why here? Why this bookshop when Paris was stuffed with so many alternatives?

He focused on his tea. “I like the walk.”

She had a feeling there was more to it than that. “Well, we love seeing you every day.”

He smiled at her. “You are looking better, Grace.”

“Better?”

“The first day I saw you, you had ghosts in your eyes.” He took a sip of tea. “Those ghosts have gone.”

“My life was a little complicated.” The understatement almost made her laugh. She had a sudden urge to tell him everything but managed to stop herself. There was opening up, and then there was oversharing. Toni was delightful and caring, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear the sordid details of her life. “Fortunately, things have settled down. How about you, Toni? Do you have family?”

“I’m widowed. And you have no idea how much I dislike that word. It’s an invitation for pity, and I hate that.” He stood up. “Thank you for the tea. I’ll leave you to sort the books while I browse for a little while.” With a gentle smile, he walked into one of the small rooms at the back of the shop and picked a shelf.

Grace couldn’t help herself. “Are you looking for something specific, Toni? Is it something I can help with? Two pairs of eyes are better than one.”

His gaze softened. “Thank you, but I’m better doing this alone.”

Did a person pick up every book from every shelf if they were browsing? What he did didn’t seem like browsing to her. It looked as if he was searching methodically for something specific.

Still, it wasn’t her business. If he wanted her help, he’d ask for it.

She walked into the back room where all the boxes were stacked and started working her way through.

She checked each book, sorted them into piles for shelving, making sure there was nothing that might be of particular value. Elodie had told her that she’d found at least two first editions in the past few years.

After half an hour Toni said goodbye and left. The shop was empty, and her mind wandered to Philippe. If Audrey hadn’t called when she did, would Grace have slept with him?

She rocked back on her heels and stared at the book in her hands.

Yes. She probably would. She’d enjoyed the evening, the chemistry between them was off the charts and she had to move on sometime. Maybe Philippe was exactly what she needed.

Would she have felt guilty? There was only one way to find out.

Pausing in her book-sorting efforts, she leaned across and grabbed her bag. She was too old for games. Just because he hadn’t called her, didn’t mean she couldn’t call him.

Before she could change her mind, she sent him a text.

Had a good time last night. Sorry to leave early. Had to help Audrey, but all good now. Looking forward to concert.

There. Done.

His reply came almost instantly.

I had a good time, too. Will leave concert tickets at the ticket office. Bring your friends.

Feeling light-headed, she lifted another book from the box. As she added it to the pile for shelving, a photograph fluttered to the floor. She picked it up, dusted it off with her fingers and studied it. A couple were locked together. It was taken in black-and-white and there were a couple of cracks on the surface as if it had been folded into someone’s pocket. There was something familiar about the woman. Grace held it closer and her heart skipped like a child in the playground.

She carried it to the front of the shop, where the light was better.

It was her grandmother. She’d seen photos of Mimi taken when she was in her early twenties, and she’d recognize her anywhere. She had the elegant, willowy form of a dancer.

In the photo she was holding tightly to the hand of the man by her side. There was no doubt at all that they were in love.

But her grandmother had never been in love, had she?

Grace stared hard at the photograph. The woman in the picture was definitely in love.

Who was the man in the picture, and why was it hidden inside a book?

She walked to the back of the shop and retrieved the book, but there didn’t seem to be anything significant about it. It was a nonfiction book about the geography of the Alps. There were no clues as to why the photograph would be inside that particular book.

She put it down and stared at the photograph for a long time.

Who was this man her grandmother was looking at with such devotion? And why hadn’t she ever mentioned him?





Audrey


She’d never felt more awkward in her life.

She’d wanted to impress Etienne, and she’d totally and utterly blown it. What must he think of her?

As they took the steps that led down to the river, she shoved her hands into her pockets and decided to get the conversation over with.

“Look, about last night. I’m sorry, okay?”

“You’re sorry?” Etienne stopped walking and caught her arm. “I’m the one who is sorry. I’m the one who left you. I didn’t mean to be so long, I swear.”

“Your job wasn’t to look after me. I can look after myself.” Technically, it had been Grace who had looked after her, but she wasn’t going to broadcast that fact.

“You were my guest. Also—” he shrugged “—I know what Marc is like. He doesn’t understand boundaries. Never knows when to stop.”