One Summer in Paris(88)

“When you said his name was Philippe, I didn’t realize he was the Philippe.” Etienne slid glasses onto his nose and read the program. “I heard him play in Paris a few years ago. My mother loves him. I bought her his Mozart recordings for Christmas.”

“Who knew you were such a culture vulture?” Audrey took a swig of her water. “Grace loves him, too, don’t you, Grace?”

Grace ignored her cheeky grin. “I love his playing.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know that’s not what you meant.” She glanced up as the orchestra took their seats. She’d seen Philippe play as a student and he’d been good then, but she knew this was going to be an entirely different experience.

“Are you sure you don’t love more than his playing? Because you’ve been smiling a lot since you had dinner. And I notice you’re wearing the blue dress again.” Audrey nudged her and craned her neck. “Is that him? Why is he last? He’s late. Will they fire him?”

“He’s not late. He’s the soloist so he comes on last.”

“Oh, I get it, so he gets the attention. A bit like rocking up late to a party and making an entrance. One of the girls in my year does that. It’s super annoying, in fact. Can we wave?”

“No.” Grace joined the audience in applause as Philippe strode to the piano, gave a brief bow to acknowledge the audience and then sat down.

“He’s seriously hot.” Audrey spoke in a whisper and caught Etienne’s eye. “I mean, for an older guy, obviously. What are you doing? You can’t kiss me here. This is not the back row of the movies.”

“I’m stopping you talking.”

“I’ll stop talking once the music starts.”

Despite the disapproving murmurings of the people behind her, Grace couldn’t help smiling. They were so completely enchanted by one another that it almost hurt to watch.

Had she and David ever been like that? Yes, they had. She remembered a concert where they’d left in the interval because they’d both found it impossible to keep their hands off each other.

What did the future hold for Audrey and Etienne?

Grace breathed deeply.

She wasn’t going to do that. She wasn’t going to turn into a bitter, twisted divorcée who thought all relationships were doomed. You had to approach life with optimism and hope, otherwise where was the pleasure? Where was the fun? Better to hope for the best and deal with the worst, than expect the worst and miss the best.

Philippe’s fingers flew over the keys, stroking, coaxing, seducing each note from the piano. She knew he wasn’t thinking about her. He wasn’t thinking about anything. He was lost in the music, unaware of his surroundings, and she was lost, too.

Her mind wandered along with the notes. She’d listened to this concerto a thousand times in her kitchen but she’d forgotten how different it was to hear music live. Suddenly she couldn’t bear the thought of returning to her little town in Connecticut. It no longer felt safe and secure, it felt stifling. The place was tied up with a life that was in the past. It no longer felt like hers. The idea of leaving and living somewhere else had never entered her head, but it did now. Why not? Once she and David sold the house she could do what she liked. Sophie was off to college and she knew Mimi would be excited to know Grace was moving on with her life. She’d miss her friends at the school, but she could teach anywhere. Maybe even here, in Paris.

She straightened her shoulders, invigorated by the music.

Why was she waiting for David to mention divorce? Why couldn’t she be the one to do it?

The concert passed in a flash and when applause exploded across the auditorium, Audrey leaned toward Grace.

“That sounded like the music you play when you’re cooking.”

“It is the music I play when I’m cooking.”

Still clapping, Audrey winked at her. “So you hadn’t altogether forgotten about Philippe, then, even though you were married to David.”

All around them people were standing and stamping their feet and Audrey stood up and tugged Grace up, too.

“This is fun. And I actually like this Mozart guy. Color me shocked. It’s a shame they don’t let you dance, because I could have totally danced to that. His music is pretty cool. I like the rhythm and it’s kind of happy.”

“I’m sure Mozart would be thrilled and proud to know he’d won you over.”

Audrey chortled with laughter. “Yeah, well, he should be because I’m a tough audience when it comes to brainy stuff.”

“Don’t put yourself down. It’s just music, that’s all. You can enjoy it the same way you enjoy other types of music.”

“No kidding. If I told the people in my school I liked Mozart, do you know what they’d do to me? It’s bad enough having red hair and not drinking. Red hair, not drinking and Mozart? That’s social suicide, right there.” Audrey clapped harder. “He’s looking for you, Grace. See him searching the audience? There—She’s here—” She stopped clapping and waved her arms, just as Philippe flashed Grace a smile. His gaze locked on hers and he gave a small bow in her direction before walking off the stage ahead of the orchestra.

Heat spread through her.

“Okay, that’s enough. My hands are sore.” Audrey stopped clapping and flapped her hands to cool them down. “Now what? It’s super early. Most rock concerts are only getting started around now. Do we go on to a club or something?”