One Summer in Paris

“No.” Grace analyzed her spinning head. “I’ll be fine, but I will take up your offer of cleaning up before I go back to my hotel. I don’t want to attract attention.” She could just imagine the reaction of the staff if she limped in with her head bleeding and her hands skinned.

“It’s down this street. It’s closed now, but I have a key.” Audrey slowed her pace so that Grace could keep up.

“You work in the bookshop?”

“Mornings. My payment is an apartment for the summer and enough money to buy one croissant a day. Unless I can find another job, I’m going to lose weight.” She paused outside a door, and Grace realized that this was the bookshop she’d been looking for when she’d been assaulted.

“I was coming here.” She gazed up at the windows, enchanted. “My grandmother is French. She used to visit this place when she lived in Paris.” And she still didn’t understand it. Why would Mimi have been interested in a bookshop?

“Well, I don’t think they’ve cleaned since that time, so you’re probably seeing the same dust bunnies she did. I hope you don’t have asthma or anything, because if you do you’re pretty much dead.” Audrey unlocked the door and pushed it open. A bell jangled noisily.

The girl dumped her bag on the floor and grabbed a chair. “Sit. I’ll clean up your head.”

Feeling unsteady, G

race sat.

Audrey vanished through a door and reemerged with a first aid kit.

She poured something onto gauze and cleaned Grace’s head. Her hands, if not exactly gentle, were quick and efficient. “So you don’t travel much?”

“I travel, but not usually alone.”

“The first rule is you’ve got to keep your bag close. Keep the strap across your body.” Audrey threw away the gauze. “And don’t stop in the middle of the street and look at the map. That shrieks tourist. Look up your route before you leave the hotel and if you have to check where you are, then do it discreetly. If you speak French, you can just ask for directions.”

“Yes.” What had she been thinking? It wasn’t as if she’d never left Connecticut. “I can’t believe you caught him.”

“You can thank years of almost missing the school bus. That’s my best running distance.” Audrey pressed a dressing to Grace’s head and taped it down. “Now let’s look at your ankle. Is it broken?”

Audrey was the most capable teenager Grace had ever encountered. What would Sophie have done in the same situation? She wouldn’t have chased after a man and brought him down with a few moves.

“It’s not broken. You brought him crashing to the ground. Where did you learn to do that?”

“I did martial arts at school. Can’t throw a ball to save my life, but I have a great turning kick.” Audrey ran her fingers over the bruising. “It’s swelling up a bit. Same thing happened to one of my friends at Sports Day last year. You probably shouldn’t walk on that for a few days. Put ice on it.”

Feeling a little better, Grace looked around the bookshop. “This place is like paradise.”

“I’m pretty sure paradise smells better than this. Also, shouldn’t paradise be sunny and full of drinks with those cute umbrellas in them?”

“But to work in a bookshop—it’s a dream, isn’t it?”

“Maybe. I’m mostly doing it for the apartment.”

“If you don’t speak French, how are you going to serve customers?”

Audrey shrugged. “Sign language? And I’m learning a few words. I’m using an app. It’s pretty good.”

“You seem to know plenty of swear words.”

“Yeah, a friend taught me the useful stuff.” The girl closed the first aid kit. “So how did you learn French?”

“I’m a teacher. I teach French and Spanish.”

Audrey’s expression blanked. It was like watching a door slamming shut. “We’d better get you back to wherever it is you’re staying. Can you walk or do you want me to get you a cab?”

The thought of going back to the hotel didn’t appeal to Grace at all. She would have liked to stay longer, but she sensed Audrey didn’t want her. Had she somehow upset her? “I don’t suppose I could buy a book while I’m here?”

“Go ahead. There’s enough of them. Where are you staying?”