I motioned for her to sit down. “At first she was angry. She never in a million years thought it would be you who took the money.”
Beatrice covered her face, her shoulders squaring as she steeled herself. “I feel horrible,” she said between her hands.
I patted her shoulder. “But once I told her about Marc, and the issues you faced when I changed the shifts, and things, she came around. She wants to trust you, Beatrice, but you’re going to have to work for it.”
Beatrice glanced up sharply. “She’s not going to fire me?”
I smiled. “Nope. And if you play your cards right, you might just get that management position after all. But until then, we’ll rearrange your shifts so you don’t have to pay for sitters.”
She moved to hug me. “Thank you, Sarah. For everything.”
I waved her away. “Are you coming to the Christmas party?”
“I guess, if I can bring Marc.”
“Of course! We’re a family of sorts now, no matter how we all fit into the equation. I better make sure we have some gifts for him to open on the day. What does he like?”
“Books of course,” she said with a smile and I realized it was the first genuine smile she’d ever given me.
Watching Beatrice bound out of the office and to the till, it was like she was a different person – now she could be herself. I was proud of her for being honest and admitting her mistakes. It couldn’t have been easy for her alone here, with a toddler to care for and her future was much brighter now the truth had come out. And perhaps her Christmas would now shine a little brighter.
***
Later on that morning, Beatrice wandered over, her face pinched.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I thought I better apologize to everyone,” she said. “Explain myself a bit…”
I gave her arm a reassuring pat. “OK,” I said, smiling. It wouldn’t be an easy thing for her to choke out, and I was proud of her. “I do think it’ll help, they all know something’s up.” You couldn’t keep a secret in a bookshop. Staff sniffed out gossip and, like a game of Chinese Whispers, by the time it got back to me it was so far-fetched, I could only laugh. Better then, if Beatrice was honest with them all. “You can gather them all in the office if you want. I can stay out here and serve, unless you need me in there too?”
Her face colored a little, but she shook her head. “I’ll be OK. But thanks.”
She went to them individually, tapping their shoulders and motioning to the office. They seemed to respect her, maybe out of fear, but that wasn’t really who she was, and I thought she’d handle the place and the staff well if she got to be the manager.
I served a sea of customers who were buying cookbooks, and children’s books, and the odd romance or two, asking about what books were popular for Christmas presents. Ten minutes later the staff went back to their stations, seemingly nonplussed by Beatrice’s confession. I knew TJ and Oceane would have something to say later, but I hoped now to include Beatrice on our little excursions, even if it meant we went somewhere child-friendly so she didn’t miss out.
Oceane, her face blanked against the news she’d just heard, said “Let’s fix these decorations. We need more tinsel, you’re totally right.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I thought you said tinsel was gaudy…”
She giggled. “It is, but it’s your big thing, so why not?” We giggled as we re-stuck the decorations that had blown down each time the door flew open.
That afternoon it was hard not to smile. The bookshop was lit up like the fourth of July. Christmas lights flashed and pulsed in the front window, merrily glowing red, green, and golden. By the front door we had a small sleigh that Oceane had practically prized out of Anouk’s hands. It was so old, the red velvet of the seat had faded to a russet color, but it was charming, with its ruddy faced Santa and collection of reindeers.
On the low hanging wooden beams, garlands of tinsel, crisscrossed back and forth, a web of shiny color.
“You know Sophie would have a coronary, seeing the place like this, don’t you?” TJ said. “Like she’d literally clutch her chest and fall to the floor, screaming.”
“Thanks for painting that so vividly,” I said. “But she won’t know will she?”
Sophie wasn’t a fan of Christmas and the thought made me smile, because in Ashford, there was no escaping the festivities – she was being dragged into them, no matter what she did to avoid it. She’d be drinking a cup of gingerbread coffee and singing Jingle Bells with the girls, there was no question about it.
Beatrice swanned over, draped in tinsel, and wearing a headband with bobbles that spelled out Merry Xmas! “Turn up the carols!”
“Done,” TJ said, giving us a woeful look. “Honestly, I won’t be able to spend the next week listening to Silent Night without killing you all off in a poem, just a heads up.”
I gave him a shove with my hip. “Oh, we’ve got ourselves a Grinch.”
He lifted me up and swung me around, my shriek scaring the customers.
“Service? Anyone?” Oceane said. A queue of customers had materialized, catching us unawares.
I went to help all the while thinking of Ridge, and wondering what he was doing. I’d found a few presents for him, but had no idea where I’d send them. So they sat forlornly upstairs in the apartment.
Once we caught up, I went out front to survey our new Christmas romances in the display window, and the megawatt fairy lights I’d added. You’d certainly know the bookshop was here, no matter which side of the Seine you were on.
“An American in Paris, you’d never guess.” I turned to the laughter.
“Too much?” I asked, facing Luiz. The shop almost hummed with the amount of voltage from the lights.
“I imagine the tourists will feel right at home.”
“Come in,” I motioned. Winter was in full swing, the cold air shocked the breath from my lungs.
Inside, we stood with our backs to the fireplace, avoiding the pockets of cold in the store. “Have you heard from Ridge?” he asked.
I forced a smile, but it felt like a grimace. “Nope,” I said. “I’m going to concentrate on my first Parisian Christmas. Everyone has high hopes for the annual orphans’ party, as they so dub it.”
“Infamous around here, those parties of Sophie’s. Too much champagne, and a whole lot of warbling, or so I’ve heard.”
I laughed. “Well, I hope we manage to outdo the previous years for the loudest and most ear bending singing ever! I do a mean rendition of Amazing Grace, seriously, it’s enough to get you crying into your eggnog,” I laughed. “And that’s not the emotion of the song, it’s the ear splitting way I sing.”
“So I’ll get the staff ear muffs for Christmas. Thanks for the tip.”
I scoffed. “They will plaster on a fake smile, and watery eyed, watch me until the last note is sung.”
He folded his arms. “You wouldn’t sing in front of a group of people.”
I laughed again. “True. It’s on my bucket list though.” It wasn’t so lofty an idea these days. Singing, if it meant living in the moment was something I just might do with my new found confidence.
“Well, if you do I hope I’m there to hear it. TJ called me,” Luiz said. “To confirm the reading Friday.”
Luiz would be a huge drawcard, not only because he was a fantastic writer, but because he never did readings. And locals were out and about more in pre-Christmas buying frenzies. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. I’ve fallen in love with the new story, and I know I’m not supposed to admit that,” his eyes twinkled. “But it’s time this story was told.”
I rubbed my hands together for warmth. “I can’t wait to listen to you read it!”
“Great,” he said. “Tell TJ I’ll be here at seven on Friday.” He kissed my cheek platonically and walked out into the brisk night. His story would be a revelation, I knew it from the way he flushed. I bet it had a happy ever after!
Chapter Twenty Three
“You’re a good person, Sarah, to fight for her like that,” Luiz’s words came out in puffs of fog in the snowy day.
“Once she explained her reasons, it’s was a no-brainer,” I said. “Don’t you think everyone deserves a second chance?”
“Depends what they’ve done. What about the love letters, now we know he slept with the violinist, do you think she should continue their love affair? Is it even worth it, when he’s wrapped in someone else’s arms, never on home soil because his career is far more important to him?”
I shivered, recalling the last letter we’d read together. Pierre admitted he’d found solace in the young girl’s arms, but tamped it down by saying she meant nothing, it was something to pass the time. Sex for the sake of release and nothing more. I was enraged at the casual way he’d written it to the mysterious girl he supposedly loved above all others. Did Ridge partake in affairs on the road, assuaging his guilt by not mentioning it? Was Monique the photographer a willing partner? The idea made me queasy. “I disliked Pierre after that letter, the way he brushed off the violinist’s feelings as if it were nothing, and to tell his real love in such blunt terms. But we don’t have her response. We don’t know what she thinks. Surely it would have ended after that?”
“There’s one more letter,” Luiz said. “But the French, they think differently about affairs. There’s love, and there’s lust, and sometimes they go looking for both. It’s excused here, as a pursuit of happiness.”
“But then how is it real love? If you search for something else with another person?”
“In terms of our love letters, they were apart for almost an entire year. I’m not excusing it, but I’d say that had a lot do with his reasoning.”
“Do you think all men do that?”
Luiz turned to me. “You’re thinking about Ridge?”
I nodded, my mouth downturned.
“It’s hard to say – I only know him from what you’ve told me. But it seems his passion lies with his work, like Pierre’s did. The difference is, all we got from Pierre was how he felt – what he missed, what he wanted. I don’t think your guy is like that.” Luiz said, eyes ahead as we walked towards the Notre Dame. He’d arrived at the bookshop early, found me curled up like an ampersand, head pressed against the cold glass window, and urged me to join him for a walk. Once again Ridge and I had missed each other, swapping voicemail messages in the night. It was only a week before Christmas and the shop had been hectic. I’d been racing around, wrapping presents and wishing and hoping that Ridge would walk through the door. He’d said he wasn’t going to lose me, but where was he?
“Maybe it’s the wrong time for us,” I said. There could be a time Ridge would want to settle down, when the bright lights of a foreign city didn’t call to him, but when would that be? And who would I be then?
“You’ll see, Sarah. Remember, tu me manques. This is when you’ll find out if that’s true, if you can live without each other or not.”
“I don’t want to live without him,” I said, tears stinging my eyes. Christmas exacerbated my feelings. I wanted my near and dear close. “But how can I compete with his lifestyle? It’s what he runs to first, and it’s like I’m always coming second to that. I never used to think like this…but our visits were regular, and the brief times spent with him quelled any doubt. But three months in the city of romance, with just a quick one day visit… it feels like he’s already gone, and he doesn’t know how to tell me.” The love I felt for Ridge threatened to take over sometimes, it was a heady feeling, an intense need for him that couldn’t be assuaged with anyone else. But was the same true for him?
Luiz glanced up sharply. “You think he’s trying to break up with you?”
I shrugged. Ridge wasn’t like that, the Ridge I knew, but who was he really? On location he was the cocktail drinking, party in the bedroom type of guy. That lifestyle was a million miles away from what we did when we were together. A dinner party with my friends was as exciting as our social life got. Was I being unreasonable?
“Why else would he not visit?”
Luiz’s expression was pained, as if he was absorbing some of my sadness. “No man would do that to you, Sarah. You don’t see how spellbinding you are, how vital. You may not be the one who dances on tables at a party, or the type to speak up first in a group, but that’s what makes you special. You’re different, starry-eyed and romantic, an old soul who has ideals, and you stick to them. It’s rare. And it’s beautiful.” He spoke so softly, almost like he was describing someone else. The compliments provoked a blush, nevertheless.
I laughed to cover my nerves. “I’m too whimsical. Too much of a day-dreamer, I see that now. Being here, I see that my lack of ambition is at odds with everyone else, and that’s what’s missing from my life. Some kind of goal, or direction.”
He shook his head, his hair catching under the street lights as we got to the front of Notre Dame. “Why do you have to compare yourself to anyone? If you’re content with your bookshop why should you change?”
“Because shouldn’t I want more?”
“Why? Wanting something you can’t have is a heartbreak of its own.”
Had Luiz lost someone he loved? His vice was thick with a type of ache, a loneliness. “I’ve always felt like the odd person out. Let’s face it, I’d choose a good book over a night out, nine times out of ten. Growing up, my friends were books for god’s sake. And I loved them all. Who chooses to live in a fictional world, even as an adult? Surely I can’t always hide between the covers, as life passes me by.” Even as I said it though I knew things had changed for me for the better.
“Sarah, what you describe, is paradise. How many people would swap lives with you in a heartbeat? To be able to snuggle in one of the coves of the bookshop, pull up a throw rug, and read as the light darkens when day turns to night. If you make enough to live on, why do you need more?’
Luiz wasn’t like most men. He was introspective and observant, he only spoke when he had something to say, not to fill a silence. “I suppose you’re right. Being here though, I wonder what else the world has to offer. I could easily jump on a plane to the next place…”
We came to the front of the Notre Dame, its facade spectacular under the somber sky. It had so much presence it was almost alive, its gothic style intricate and other worldly.
“You’ll know soon enough what you want, Sarah. If Ridge loves you, he’ll prove it. And you deserve a man who worships you.” Turning to me, Luiz caught my hands and stared into my eyes, “And don’t accept anything less.”
Ridge. Even just hearing his name was enough to set my heart racing. The thought of never being in his arms again almost made me dizzy with sadness. And I knew I would never love anyone the same as him.
The rain grew heavier, so we sought refuge in a café. In a quiet corner I sipped the black bitter coffees the French favored as rain lashed the windows, making them shudder.
“Ready?” Luiz asked, taking the last letter from his satchel.
“Ready,” I said bracing myself.
“My love,
She’s pregnant. She told me last night, her face wild with a sort of joy I can’t recognize or feel myself. I never meant for this to happen. It was a way to warm the bed at night, to forget the ache in my heart. To ease my loneliness. Taking a lover, as we’ve both done, to find comfort where we can, until we’re together again. And now this. It’s as though my world has collapsed. I cannot be the man who walks away from his child, even though I would give anything to make you his mother instead. I must do the right thing, by her, by this child who’s due in the winter-time. I don’t know how I’ll live without your love. Your letters. Your laughter. But I must. My heart is broken. Be free, my love, and may you find someone who loves you even half as much as I do, which is almost too much to bear.
Pierre.
“What!” I yelled, drawing attention from café patrons. I gathered myself and said, “Well...wow.” The letter made m
e think of Ridge. He was faithful, wasn’t he? Or did he think finding comfort in the arms of a stranger was acceptable?
“Do you think it’s common for people with long distance relationships to fall into the arms of a willing partner?” I cringed at the betrayal of even asking in a roundabout sort of way again. Did people go about and do that kind of thing without any thought of the consequences?
“Some,” Luiz said. “Everyone’s different. For some it doesn’t mean anything. It’s a means to an end. From these letters we know they subsisted on only a couple of weeks a year together because his schedule was hectic. So I guess the other fifty weeks they were lonely, and accepted they’d both see other people, but it wouldn’t mar what they had. They were honest about it. It’s not like they hid it from each other.”
Was it because Luiz was French that he viewed love differently to me? How could you say you love someone, yet fall into bed with another person? That kind of reasoning made no sense to me. “I guess,” I said, trying to wrap my head around the notion. I didn’t begrudge them finding someone to ease the loneliness, but I could never do that. And surely what he’d done ruined their chance of true love that might have lasted a lifetime. “And that’s how the letters end. I never would have expected that. It’s too sad to even contemplate.” Despondency sat heavily in my heart. The mysterious couple didn’t find their happy ever after, and I wanted to sob for them.
***
Oceane held my arm as we walked rapidly. Snow dusted the bare trees on the Left Bank, and our breathing quickened as we picked up the pace to keep warm. “You’re never too old for Santa,” I admonished her.
My life was a hell of a lot brighter now that the whole issue with Beatrice was sorted out; the shop was a much happier place with a set roster, and sales targets that were achievable. Each dawn, I was up early, stealing time to languish in the quiet and read before my day started in earnest. There was space now to go Christmas crazy. I had been desperate to drag Oceane to see the man in red, pestering her for a week now. Finally, finally, she said yes!
The Little Bookshop On the Seine Page 23
