Then suddenly I felt Beatrice next to me, I hoped that she was there to support me, but the air chilled at the tone of her voice. “Sarah, what are you doing?” she hissed through her teeth. “Can you help serve?”
My mouth fell open. All of our earlier camaraderie forgotten. “Excuse me, Beatrice, I am actually in the process of catching someone,” I narrowed my eyes at the guy, “stealing!” The word came out like a shriek. I expected his face to fall, or him to dash out of the shop, books tumbling as he ran – but he didn’t. A long, slow smirk settled across his features.
“Oh for god’s sake,” she huffed. “You’ve just lost five sales from customers who walked out because they didn’t want to wait, in order to catch this guy stealing one book? He’ll bring it back when he’s done! They all do!”
I stood there, open-mouthed, heart hammering. Eventually I managed, “What?”
Beatrice shook her head, her red curls bouncing. “Could you be any more sheltered? Sophie turns a blind eye to book theft because she believes everyone should have the right to read, and just because they can’t pay, doesn’t mean they should miss out. I thought you’d been told all of this?” She rolled her eyes, and it was all I could do not to poke her, the gazing heavenward thing was getting old super-fast. She’d held off from doing it to me, but finally she’d cracked.
“That’s ridiculous!” I said. “There’s a lending library here! If they want books, why can’t they borrow them the right way?” None of this made sense, it was like I was stuck in a parallel universe. Letting people steal? No wonder my bags had been taken if no one cared about theft!
With a huff she turned and apologized to the thief.
My face turned crimson. “Don’t say sorry to him! Are you insane?”
“Look, Sarah. Things are done differently here, as you’ve been told a hundred times already! The lending library is full of old books. This guy,” she jerked a thumb at him, “no doubt wants something newer. It’s not a big deal.”
I glared at them both.
He laughed, and took another book from the shelf, giving me a wink as he walked blithely past.
“He’ll bring it back,” Beatrice said. “Serve now? Before we lose the rest of the customers to the bookshop around the corner.”
Anger coursed through me. This was a flagrant abuse of Sophie’s trust. There would be no stealing allowed while I was here. I was all for people reading, but there was a perfectly good lending library, and they could show some respect by asking at least. My mind whirred with ideas, we could easily update the library selection with newer books. I couldn’t believe Sophie was that busy she let her books go, just like that? With so much emphasis on the bottom line, her complex computer programs for data entry, and the drive to make more sales, how could she let brand new books walk out the door? It didn’t make any sense. And yet another thing I added on the to-do list.
Later that day I was totting up the total takings, sipping coffee as the same heavy sensation settled in my gut by the continued drop in sales. I steeled myself. If books were being stolen, then that would definitely contribute to our bottom line. Without another thought I emailed Sophie and asked if she was free to Skype. A few minutes later a call came through on the laptop.
On screen, Sophie looked beautiful. Her time away had softened the worry lines around her eyes and the stiffness of her posture. She was so relaxed she was almost floppy, a stark contrast to me, coiled snake-like with anxiety.
“Oh darling your friends are like sunshine, the town is everything I imagined it to be and more. I never want to come home! Perhaps we should think of extending the exchange to a year?” I choked on my coffee, and managed to get hand to my mouth before I covered the computer screen with liquid.
Sophie frowned. “Are you OK?”
I composed myself, and managed a laugh. “I’m fine! But I think what we discussed originally is an adequate time to live each other’s lives.” Sophie was having a blast with my friends, and I couldn’t contain the tiny bit of jealousy that crept up and tapped me on the shoulder.
I pressed on, “It’s just, there was an incident today. A thief snatched a book, and Beatrice bounded over and told me you turn a blind eye to it. And it doesn’t make sense to me. If you let people steal books, then no wonder the staff think it’s OK to steal from the till.”
Through the monitor, she gave me a patient smile, and I knew what was coming. Never in a million years would we be on the same page, of that I was certain. “Of course I allow people to take books! It’s an unwritten rule, one we’ve had for years. It’s for locals, students, people that will one day have their own names on novels in my shop, and will remember how we helped them… a long standing tradition which started way before I took over.”
My mind actually boggled – a pounding sensation, the beginning of a headache brewing. On top of everything else this felt like the final straw; I was exhausted, exasperated and I wasn’t holding back any more. “Fine! I’ll let people steal, even though it makes no sense to me. But it’s setting the standard, Sophie. I don’t know which one of the staff is stealing, or if it’s a bunch of them nipping Euros out of the till, but how can you expect them to care if you give away books like that?”
Her eyes narrowed, as though she didn’t like what I had to say. “Are you unhappy because of Ridge leaving, is that what this is?”
I reeled as if slapped. “No, Sophie, that’s not why. You said your staff were a handful, you said the paperwork was monumental. Fine, I get that. But the pressure of covering shifts for lazy staff, and then staying up late so I can add everything into the computer, and then getting up bleary-eyed the next day to be told stealing books is OK… it’s downright ridiculous. No wonder no one respects me here, when I try to do things the right way, and not follow some weak tradition from the past.”
Her mouth fell open. She wasn’t used to me having an opinion, especially a daring one like that. “You wouldn’t understand,” she said, sharply.
“Let me guess, because I’m not French?” I shook my head. “Why can’t they ask for a book instead of just taking it?” She went to speak but I held up a hand. I was going to say my piece this time. “I’ve been riddled with guilt working here. The thought of all that money missing kept me from sleeping. I’ve made stupid mistakes myself from being constantly wooly-headed. And I’m not taking it any more, Sophie. While I’m here, things will have to change or I can’t stay.” The words fell from my mouth, before I could edit them. But it was time I stood up for myself, or I’d end up being run ragged by unwritten rules that made no sense.
“Fine,” she said, her eyes hard. “But tread lightly, please.”
We stared at each other on screen, and shared an awkward silence. “I will,” I eventually said, feeling a tad victorious.
“The sales, though. That keeps me up at night, Sarah. Please, fix it. This is usually the busiest time of year, leading into Christmas…”
“I’m trying,” I said wearily.
When I flopped back in my chair after ending the call with Sophie, I stared once again at my favorite view, knowing it would cheer me up. It was like falling in love. I curled up in the window seat and dialed Ridge’s cell – it rang out, and his voice message kicked in. The smooth, silkiness of his voice made my heart race, but where was he? It’d been almost a week since we’d talked that horrible night when he hoped he’d catch me sleeping. Sophie wasn’t right when she thought my issues with the shop were to do with Ridge, but I had to admit we were starting to have more bad days than good – or more days where I didn’t hear from him. Was the gap getting harder to bridge?
***
Covered with a thin layer of dust, I was still only halfway through unpacking boxes of books that had arrived in time for the Christmas rush. TJ appeared, giving me a lopsided grin.
“It’s never-ending, right?”
I patted a stack of books. “At least all this heaving and hefting burns the calories I’m consuming at the patisserie down the laneway
.”
He grinned. “Between the sweets, and the cheeses, and the three course lunches, never mind all the wine, it’s a wonder we’re not huge.” He patted his belly which was more concave than convex. “It’s all the walking and, of course, the mad dash of the bookshop.”
He moved boxes and made a makeshift seat, doing zero to help – but TJ had this way about him, just sitting and talking was compelling and more important than any work we might need to do. “Take a break. You’ve been in here for hours. We could wander down the Boulevard Saint-Germain.”
“I shouldn’t,” I said, though the idea appealed. “I have a heap more to unpack.”
“I’ll help when we get back,” he offered.
“OK,” I ran a hand through my hair, hoping the black shock of it wasn’t beige with dust and feeling excited about stepping into fresh air.
Opening an umbrella, we walked along the promenade to the bank of the Seine.
I enjoyed TJ’s company at work. Nothing was ever too much trouble, and while he bickered with Beatrice, he wasn’t malicious. I’d been worrying all night about who could possibly be taking the money from the shop, but I doubted it was him stealing from the till. TJ always wore the same beat-up, wrinkled suit, and only ever ate at the cheaper boulangeries, but more than that I trusted him instinctively because of his genuine nature, and warmth in his eyes. He’d be more likely to tell me he needed money, than steal it.
“Are you happy here, Sarah?” TJ grinned, and looped his arm through mine as we skipped puddles in the street.
His question caught me off guard, but TJ just had an aura about him, something that made me feel I could trust him with a confidence, and unlike some of the others from the shop, he was more empathetic. “I made the decision to come here so quickly, I don’t know what I expected. I’m a small town girl, so it’s a sensory overload, sometimes. Though, stepping out into this,” I motioned to the vista, the river, the ever present Eiffel Tower, “makes up for it. I didn’t know you could fall in love with a city. It’ll be hard to leave, that’s for sure. But I won’t miss the politics of Once Upon a Time.”
“It’s a mammoth task running it.” He lifted a brow.
I nodded. “I don’t know how Sophie’s managed it so long to be honest. She needs more staff, especially when it comes to the accounts.” I said, as we dodged a couple swept up in the romance of Paris standing in the middle of the path and kissing.
“I hope this trip saves her from herself.” His voice was full of hope. “She has to see that things need to change.” While he hovered on the edge, like a silent spectator, I recognized that TJ saw it all, right to the heart of the matter, without being one of the people who added to the drama.
“Manu broke her heart. I can see why she’d flee. Following tradition is one thing, working yourself into an early grave is another.” I couldn’t hide the tightness in my voice and looked away from TJ, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
He cocked his head. “What is it? Is it Beatrice upsetting you?”
“No, no, it’s just me.” The other staff didn’t seem to have problems with her, and maybe I was being too sensitive. It was obvious that she loved the shop, and she had only been sharp when I’d made rookie boss mistakes. They must have thought I was some backwater hillbilly. “I guess being away from home,” I gave a nervous laugh. “I’ve always felt like something was missing from my life. That I had to stop hiding. And for some reason, I thought I’d find it here. I’m not exactly a social butterfly. It’s like my flaws are exacerbated here. Everyone is so charismatic, and bubbly, and I’m the girl with the silly ideas. When I do try something,” I blushed, thinking of the team building idea, “it’s considered bourgeois, or something.”
Leading me into a café down a hidden alleyway, TJ moved us to a cozy table for two before ordering coffees. It was like that in Paris. Food or good coffee was a priority, and any crisis of the heart could wait until comfort was organized. “Travelling has a way of peeling back the layers of a person, leaving you exposed.” TJ said, picking right back up where we left off, “When you’re alone, miles away from all you know and love, that’s when you find out who you really are.”
“How did you end up here?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
He smiled. “I was lost. My parents’ had this idea I’d work in the car factory, like all my family. That was as big as their dreams were. To be an employee for some huge manufacturer. When I said I wanted to write, they almost fell over backwards with shock.”
“Sounds bleak,” I said. “Dreams are hard enough to reach for, without anyone stomping on them.”
The waiter arrived, depositing steaming cups into our waiting hands. “I knew if I stayed there, eventually I’d become a factory worker, and each day my poetry would be a step further away as monotony took over.”
“So you just left?”
“I’d always been drawn to Paris, the city that housed The Lost Generation, all those bohemians who found a home here, and I knew it was where I was meant to be. I contacted Sophie and she promised me a job, so as quick as that, I left. When I arrived here, it was like I could breathe, great big lungfuls of air. I found my tribe, people who understood me. Didn’t judge me. And I knew, I’d never leave. This city is my home, my heart, and I know I belong here. I might struggle to get published, might live on the brink of poverty, but it’ll be worth it. This is the city of lost souls, and you Sarah, are one of them. But that’s the beauty of this place. It’ll sweep you up, strip you bare, until lost becomes another word for found.”
“You’re such a romantic.” I smiled. TJ’s gentle chats always cheered me up. He was a sweet soul.
“Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my reputation.” He winked before motioning me to try my coffee. “It’s the best coffee in Paris, but if you tell anyone I’ll be forced to unfriend you on Facebook.”
I laughed and sipped my coffee, the rich creamy brew was strong enough to make my eyes boing open. “It’s pretty spectacular, TJ,” I admitted. Paris really was broadening my experiences, whether it was a simple cup of coffee that heightened my senses, or gazing at art work, and hearing haunting music that I felt right down into my soul. “I’m glad you found your tribe here.” I said after a pause, “I have my own tribe back home, and I miss them.”
“What about your parents, what do they say about you leaving everything behind?” He flicked a lock of black hair from his eyes.
“Like almost everyone, they’re worried I won’t be able to handle the big bad world…it’s like people think because I bury myself in books, that I’m this fragile, delicate flower who can’t cope.” I explained about my twelve hour disappearance as a child. And that I’d developed might terrors and a stutter for most of my childhood. I’d always been the odd one out.
“So what happened? The kids bullied you?”
“They were merciless. And I just retreated, you know? It was easier to hide behind the cover of my books, and I found happiness there. Escapism at its best.”
“But what about high school? Surely by then they’d moved onto to bullying another kid? As horrible as that is.”
I nodded. “I’m sure they had. But by then, I was good at being invisible. I just floated into the background. Went to school, walked home and spent my life reading. It wasn’t all bad. On a whim I opened the bookshop when I was nineteen, and everything changed. I’ll always be an introvert, but I have the best friends a girl could want, and a business I love, so I’m not that same girl anymore. But my family are overprotective over me, like I’m still a little girl.”
“Kids can be cruel. I guess when they’re that young they don’t think their actions, and the repercussions of those can last a lifetime. When I announced I was gay, you can imagine how that went down. But luckily I had support from the school and they tamped down any bullying as quickly as they could.” His eyebrows pulled together. “Paris will work its magic on you, of that I’m sure. And when you go home, people will see you differently, because noth
ing is ever the same once you leave a place like this.”
“I hope so, TJ. You know I base almost everything on romance novels, like what would the heroine do? But the heroine wouldn’t be like me, she’d be this bright young girl, with a clear plan, and a sassy attitude…”
“But this isn’t a romance novel, Sarah. You’re better than that, and you know how much I love my ‘happy ever after’s.”
I threw my head back and laughed. TJ might have written poetry but he read romance like it was banned – eyes wide, shoulders hunched, while he raced through the story, exclaiming over plot twists.
After we finished our drinks, we bundled back up; scarves, gloves, umbrellas at the ready, prepared for the harsh winds as we stepped back into the cold. We came out onto the Boulevard Saint-Germain, a busy place, famous for its bohemian nature in the roaring twenties, and later a place where the likes of Hemingway hung out. Now though, it was more upmarket.
“Near the Odeon, there’s a hidden little bistro who do the best croque monsieurs, and because they’re hard to find, there prices aren’t set high for tourists. Hungry?”
“Aren’t I always?” I said, loving that TJ was just like me, always thinking of the delicious food that was abundant here.
“Instead of ham, they use smoked salmon and Comté cheese, and I promise you, one bite and you’ll never want to leave Paris.”
My mouth watered just thinking of it. It was great having TJ as a tour guide, because his budget was more in line with mine than Oceane’s was.
“That’s Café De Flore,” TJ pointed to a café on the corner, as we crossed over. “Hemingway used to write there.” No one was immune to bringing up famous names of the past. It was a thrill to think of people whose books I’d read, or artwork I’d seen in print form, once strolled these very avenues, just like us. Hemingway sat somewhere in that café, nursing a vin rouge, as a reward after a long morning writing. I shivered a touch, wishing that the enigmatic man was still alive. We wandered down small arcades, rain making the cobblestones slippery. It was like a maze, TJ led me left then right, and through doorways, so I was completely lost. No wonder it was a secret place, it would be impossible to find alone.
The Little Bookshop On the Seine Page 17
