The Little Bookshop On the Seine (31 page)

There was thunderous applause as Luiz took the microphone and nodded to the crowd. “Thank you for inviting me here. I’ve never done a reading before, because I’m usually crippled with fear that my words don’t matter, that what I’ve written isn’t right, and I’d see that reflected in the faces of the crowd, and I’d lose any ability to write again.” There were a few laughs in the crowd that were immediately shushed, but Luiz smiled. “Dramatic, yes, but that’s the conflict I face every time I finish a book. This story, however, is different. It’s real, it’s my heart on the page, and that fear of failure has vanished with this one story. I hope you like it.”

The room was silent bar the crackle of the fire, as all eyes were on Luiz as he read. The story started with a man wandering around the streets of Paris, the scents, the sounds, and the feeling he was alone in the world, so alone that sometimes he felt life was passing him by. He’d fallen in love with the wrong girl, and she was gone, and he felt a certain level of guilt at the events preceding it.

My heartbeat hammered. He was writing about his own life. Somehow, I knew this would be a groundbreaking novel for him. That once he’d dealt with the past on the page, he’d transform.

He continued on, about a tragic accident, a break up letter hidden in her purse. Coming face to face with her lover in the gloom of the hospital room; as she took her last breath, it was
the lovers
name on her lips, not his. And he knew, in that instant, she’d ruined him. Her death, his sadness, his trust broken, and only himself to pick up the pieces. Endless days and long nights ahead where he nursed a broken heart that he knew would never heal. And even though she’d done that to him, he missed her. He had loved her with everything.

Until one day, he met a girl, in a bookshop. And he felt a small thrill, like he could love again. She didn’t know he existed. He’d been going to the same shop for years. And the idea that she didn’t know, that it was his secret, gave him hope. It was enough to admire her from afar.

A grin almost split my face when I worked out who he meant. It had been right in front of my face the whole time.

But the time had come, he said, to tell her how he felt. She loved words, so he wrote her a book.

I nudged TJ who stood beside me, and indicated with my head to Oceane, whose cheeks were flushed. A smile threatened to swallow me up, as I thought about Luiz making his way upstairs every morning to write. Was that just so he could get a glimpse of Oceane as he passed? When we’d met on the bridge that night, they’d cast admiring glances at each other.

I closed my eyes and wished they’d find happiness together. That Oceane wouldn’t have to waste time with any more Mr Right Now’s, and that Luiz would step from the shadows of his past, and into the light of new love. Maybe this would be the one book of his that ended in a Happy Ever After. I almost squealed at the thought. The bell chimed, and I cringed – I was meant to have to turned it off. I mouthed a sorry to Luiz, and dashed behind the counter to halt its pinging.

And there he was. The veritable man mountain, his shoulders dusted with snow, his eyes reflected with concern. My heart beat so fast I thought I might pass out. Everything around me faded as we locked eyes. His face was lined with worry, his jaw tensed tight.

“Ridge.” I wanted to run to him, but I held myself back. It had been too long, I wasn’t sure how to act. Still hurt about radio silence, and broken promises.

“You’re busy,” he said, indicating to the crowd, his voice a murmur.

“A little.” He could have called, told me he was coming. But like always, he’d hung up and let me wait. I spent my life waiting.

I wanted to hear Luiz’s reading, but I couldn’t help feeling that I’d soak it up better reading the inky black words myself when it was published. Or maybe that was just an excuse. “So?” I said.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his brows pulled together, and he took a step closer. “When you said you weren’t sure how you felt it hit home how my choices were affecting us. I don’t want to give up my career, but I don’t want to lose you either,” he whispered.

“Let’s go outside.” I grabbed my scarf and coat, and pushed open the door, Ridge close behind.

We went to the little garden on the corner, standing close for warmth’s sake. Being near him, the familiar he-scent, the planes of his face, which I’d stroked with the pad of my finger so many times, made my heart hurt. Because what if it ended here? I’d never kiss those lips again. Never feel his breath on my skin when he took his time, teasing me, caressing me, making me feel wholly alive and in the moment. But I’d had enough. I couldn’t be a stopgap. I had to come first, or at least equal with his other love, his work. He could at least promise me that much, or it was
c’est la vie
.

“If only you knew how much I loved you, Sarah.” His voice was plaintive, sad.

“But how can we go on like this? Months apart...missed phone calls. No communication? I can go weeks, but I can’t go months.” Each word was like a razor blade falling from my lips, cutting me to the quick. I’d never understood heartbreak, until that very moment – my chest seized, the pain real. I put a hand to it, hurting badly.

“Let me explain.” His eyes were murky, like he was ravaged inside. He ran a hand through his hair, disturbing snowflakes that drifted lazily down. “When I left the New York Herald, I thought my career was over. And I’ve worked so hard to make it in that world. You know how competitive it is. All I’m asking for is twelve months to make a name for myself as a freelance reporter. That only leaves us with six months left of this…lull between visits. Can you not try and understand? It’s not forever. I have plans after that. Plans that may keep me in Ashford full-time, but first I have to prove myself in order for that to happen.” His worry lines deepened.

I crossed my arms – even bundled up, my bones still felt the cold. “Will that year turn into two? Ridge, it feels as though I’m waiting for something that’s always just out of reach.”

“I promise, not long, and I’ll be free.” He inched even closer, his presence having the ability to make me melt. I squared my shoulders, not wanting to give in to the familiar. “I have investors lined up for a venture. I wasn’t going to tell you in case it didn’t pan out. We’re looking at starting up a digital magazine with me as the editor – and I can edit from Ashford, Sarah. I can edit from anywhere. Be wherever you are
full time
, if this takes off.”

My mouth fell open. “You’d stay in Ashford for good?”

He laughed, the sound carrying into the air above. “That’s the plan. One of the reasons I’ve been taking so many assignments is to find reporters who’ll sub to us. It’s been a lot of work, and I know it’s still not right, that I let you down, but it was all because my long term goal was to be with you. I know I should have confided in you, kept in better contact. But it was like I was racing against time to make it all happen. I didn’t want to lose another set of investors. I didn’t want the idea to go belly-up. I was so driven, I almost lost my mind. And what a wakeup call, to think I’d lose you, in my efforts to get this financed, to be with you all day, every day.”

“I wish you’d told me. It would have saved a lot of heartache.” The similarities with the letters hit home. What we did for love, and got lost on the way. “You shouldn’t have kept it secret. What did you think I’d do if it didn’t work out?”

“It was more that I wanted it to perfect. To tell you, and then never leave your side again. I’d have felt like the biggest failure if it hadn’t worked out.”

“I don’t want there to be secrets between us.”

“There won’t be.”

“OK,” I said, still unsure what all this meant for us.

“What about you, Sarah? You used to be content to live in Ashford, being at home – and now, here you are running a business in a bustling city…” he trailed off. “Where do I fit with the new you? You’ve changed so much in these few short months, from your clothes, the way you speak, your confidence. Even the emails you send are different.”

“Paris has changed me.” I smiled up at him, his dark eyes sparkling, snow falling on his broad shoulders, the Eiffel Tower a winking reminder in the background. “I couldn’t keep waiting to live my life. I’ll always love my home town. But I couldn’t be a passenger in your life, or even my own any more. The waiting, that wanting, only I could find it. And here it was the whole time. Inside of me. I’m not the same person I was, because she needed improvement. A little pizazz, and hell of a lot of confidence injected into her. The bookshop, with its bevvy of drama, brought that out of me. I had to speak up to be heard, and now I’m speaking up with you.”

“You’re my everything, Sarah. And I would gladly give it all up, if you asked me to choose. My reasons were pure. I should have just told you, and we could have hoped together.”

He gathered me in his arms, shivers coursing the length of me. Back in the embrace of the man I loved, who loved me too. The worry of the last few months ebbed away. My heart was light, and I knew if we spoke openly like this from now on we could get through anything – together.

“I wasn’t certain it would happen.” he mumbled into my hair, “We’ve had investors pull out, and advertisers cancel. It was only a week ago we got confirmation that another corporation would help finance for a share of the business. It’s been one big ball of stress, but I can finally say, fairly confidently, it should all go ahead. We plan to launch it next summer. My motivation was you, Sarah. I love my work, and the competitive nature of the industry, but I love you more. And this way I can have both.”

I leaned on tiptoes to kiss him, not trusting myself to speak. I thought of the love letters, and how Luiz said the pianist was self-absorbed, only ever mentioning himself, his work, his upsets. And here was a man who loved me, who knew what he needed to keep that fire in his belly, and keep me, and he’d done it. Solved the problem of our vastly differently lives. He’d still have the drama and the action of his job, being at the helm of the digital magazine, and he’d be able to come home at night and tell me all about it. I knew deep down, we both needed our passions to keep our love alive – his was reporting hard hitting stories, and mine was reading romantic fiction, in my own easy, sweet little shop. Where there wasn’t a spreadsheet to be found.

“But now I’m concerned,” Ridge said. “You’ve fallen in love with Paris. Will you stay?”

I shook my head. “No, I won’t stay,” I said, thinking of Beatrice and the job she so needed. “I’ll be back to visit though. Oceane’s promised me summer on the Cote d’Azur, so how could I resist?”

“You couldn’t. You’re irresistible.” Ridge lifted me up, I wrapped my legs around his waist and kissed him again, more deeply and with all the pent up passion I had for him.

“I love you, Ridge Warner.”

“And I you, Sarah Smith.”

***

Ridge slept, jetlagged to the hilt and exhausted from our night of no sleep as we remembered how to love one another. I dressed quietly and snuck out of the apartment, heading for Anouk’s shop for some final Christmas presents, if she agreed to sell them to me.

In the snowy day, her shop was like a beacon, warm light spilling from the lacy curtains. With a deep breath, I set my shoulders and pushed the door open. She was at the counter polishing jewelry with a delicate cloth. She was made-up, every inch the forties glamor puss. On anyone else it would look as though they were trying too hard, but on Anouk, surrounded by relics from bygone eras, it suited her.

“
Bonjour
, Sarah,” she said, giving me a once-over.

“
Bonjour
.” I tried not to cringe under her scrutiny.

“You’re looking for Christmas gifts,
non
?”

How did she know? She just knew – like the ring she’d found for me, which was perfect. And it had been a lucky charm, as she subtly hinted that long ago day.

“
Oui
,” I said, remembering Oceane’s warning too late. I was not to tell her they were for my friends back home. She didn’t like her wares leaving Paris. But she must know I was leaving eventually.

“Some things I can sell you, some I cannot.”

I nodded complicity. “I understand. Some books are like that for me too.”

She smiled, and it transformed her face. She was breathtakingly beautiful once she dropped the haughty demeanor. “He might like these,” she pulled a box from the display which housed antique cufflinks.

“He?” I couldn’t help but ask. How did she know who I was shopping for?

“Customers are easy to read,” she said. “You just have to know how.”

I didn’t push for an explanation, knowing I was still on a sort of probation period even being allowed to enter the shop without a long-time customer acting as a go-between. “The cufflinks are perfect,” I said. She indicated to a golden pair, simple and elegant, and I knew they’d suit Ridge. “May I?” I asked.

She nodded.

I took the delicate cufflinks and held them in my palm.

“They belonged to a writer once,” she said solemnly. “A very famous man. He was American, but he lived in Paris. I’m trusting you, Sarah. These cufflinks are tied very heavily with the past, and they must be cherished.”

They almost pulsed in my hand, and I squeezed my eyes shut to see if I could imagine which famous writer they had belonged to. Hemingway? Faulkner? Ezra Pound?

My eyes flew open. “I promise they’ll be treasured. Perhaps when I wrap them, I’ll include a book too. What do you think of…
Tender is the Night
?”

She laughed, a husky, deep chortle. “Good guess, Sarah. I think he’ll like that very much.” Anouk took the cufflinks from me, and used the polish cloth to shine them. “Next time you visit here, I’ll take you out the back.”

I nodded, doing my utmost to hide my joy. I hid my hands behind my back, lest I start fist pumping, and simply said, “I would love that. Thank you, Anouk.”

When I strolled outside with my purchase in hand, I let out a little shriek of happiness. I’d been accepted by Anouk, and it meant a lot somehow. Like I’d passed some really complicated test.