“How?”
Mimi thought about herself. About those long, agonizing days when she’d had to push herself forward. The down moments of life when she’d had to struggle alone. “Discipline. You get up in the morning. You take a shower. You do one thing, and then another. It’s tempting to lie down and give up, but you will resist it. You know everything there is to know about resisting temptation.”
Grace sucked in a breath. “It’s not the same.”
“Yes, it is. You get through a second, and then a minute. And then another minute. You don’t think about the length of the journey, you focus on each step. One at a time. And one day you’ll pause and realize you’re starting to enjoy the view.”
Grace gave a watery smile. “You sound like one of those bad motivational posters.”
“I love those posters,” Mimi lied.
Grace paced to the window and looked out onto the garden. “I don’t think I can do it.”
“Go to Paris, Grace. Stay in the luxury hotel. Sleep in the middle of the bed. Stroll through the Tuileries Garden and feel the sun on your face. Visit the little bookstore where I spent so much time.”
“Bookstore? You?” Grace turned to look at her. “You’ve never had time for reading.”
“I’ve been known to pick up a book in my time.” Mimi was purposefully vague. “You go to Paris, Grace. And you smile.”
?
?You expect me to do all that and smile?”
“Of course. And who knows—” Mimi shrugged, although her heart was breaking for her granddaughter “—you might find love in Paris.”
After all, she had.
Paris
Audrey
Why had she thought Paris would be a good idea?
Audrey carried her backpack along the cobbled street. Sweat glued her clothes to her body and made her shoes rub. She was going to have a massive blister.
She said, “Excusez moi,” for the thousandth time as she tried to push her way through the thick throng of tourists. Meena’s cousin had taught her a few other phrases, but they were all rude and Audrey didn’t want to spend her first night in Paris in a police cell.
The voice navigation on her phone told her that she’d reached her destination, but she couldn’t see a bookshop anywhere.
She checked her phone again and then looked at the street name.
She was lost.
Irritated and overheated, she walked into a small shop selling handbags. The woman behind the counter gave her a suspicious look and stared hard at Audrey’s hair. The heat and a day of traveling had turned it into something resembling a bird’s nest, but there was nothing she could do about that until she had access to a shower and her hair products.
Audrey told herself that she didn’t care what the woman thought of her. All her life she’d been on the receiving end of people who judged. People who judged her because she was a slow reader. People who judged her for having red hair. People who judged her because she had no wish to go to college. Why did everyone have to follow the same path and be the same? Audrey didn’t understand it.
“Bonjour. I’m trying to find this place.” Audrey thrust the phone at her, desperately hoping the woman spoke English. “Do you know where it is?”
The woman glanced at the address on Audrey’s phone, nodded and gave directions in rapid French.
Audrey caught one word in four, and didn’t understand even those.
Tout droit? What did that mean? And she couldn’t even look it up because she couldn’t spell it.
Too embarrassed to admit she didn’t understand what the woman was saying, she mumbled words of thanks and backed out of the shop. From the woman’s arm gestures, she’d picked up that she was supposed to carry on straight up this street to begin with, so she did that.
It was hot and sticky and everyone around her was dressed in sundresses or shorts. They strolled slowly, pausing outside each store. They examined the baskets stuffed with goods, turning each product over in their hands, trying to work out if they were looking at a bargain. There was a shop selling the inevitable Paris memorabilia. Sketches of Montmartre that would look ridiculous on the wall of a cramped room in London, tiny Eiffel Towers that would dangle from keys for a month and then gather dust in a drawer until someone decided that they weren’t even worth the memory.