Feeling depressed, she took the menu from the waiter.
“Thank you.”
“And will Monsieur Porter be joining you today?”
“Not today.” And not any day soon. Monsieur Porter was eating breakfast with another woman, probably while naked.
She ordered coffee, placed the menu on the table and pulled the guidebook out of her bag without enthusiasm. What should she do today? Normally at this point she and David would be haggling. Her love was art galleries, and his was food so whenever they traveled they compromised.
Today there was no need for compromise. She could do whatever she pleased.
But what was that? There had never been a time when she hadn’t had to take someone else’s feelings into account. She wasn’t sure she even knew what she wanted.
Maybe she’d start with the Louvre. She’d ask the con cierge to make her a lunch reservation somewhere nearby. And perhaps they’d be able to book her tickets to a concert.
She scribbled on her notepad, compiling a plan for the next few days with the aid of the guidebook. She’d filled in four days when it occurred to her that she was doing it again. Organizing everything.
Last time she’d been in Paris, there had been no plan.
She and Philippe had drifted from hour to hour, as absorbed by each other as they had been by Paris.
It had surprised her to discover she was capable of spontaneity. It was Philippe who had dragged out that side of her.
She put her pen down, ripped the page out of the notebook and scrunched it into a ball.
Today there was not going to be a plan. And not tomorrow, either.
It was time to find that side of herself again.
Her heart beat a little faster. She’d eat lunch where and when she fancied it. She’d stay in the Louvre as long as she wanted to. Or maybe not go at all.
The waiter returned with her coffee, and Grace ordered from the menu.
“Scrambled eggs and coffee, please.”
He bowed his head. Clearly, he was wondering what sort of anniversary celebration it was when the wife didn’t know when her husband was going to show up.
She closed the guidebook and turned to look out of the window.
The sun beamed down, bathing the streets in sunlight, as if determined to show Paris at its very best. Grace watched through the window as people strolled down the wide boulevards.
What was David doing now? Did he ever think of her? Did he ever feel regret?
She was jolted from her thoughts by a commotion at the far end of the restaurant and the sound of a high, shrill voice.
“What do you mean you have a dress code? It’s breakfast, for God’s sake. What do you expect me to wear? Bloody silk pajamas?”
The voice was familiar, and Grace peered across the restaurant and saw Audrey glaring fiercely at the uniformed waiter standing in her path.
Her hands were on her hips. “I’m here to see a friend, okay?”
Grace’s heart lifted. As the days had passed and she hadn’t heard from Audrey she’d assumed she’d scared her off, but maybe that wasn’t the case.
She stood up and hurried across the restaurant. “Audrey!” She gave the waiter a smile and switched to French. “She’s with me.”
The man didn’t return the smile. “We have a dress code in the restaurant, madame. I’m sure you understand.”
“I do understand.” She had her own codes and rules and she rarely diverted from them. She was starting to realize how irritating that might have been for David. “On this one occasion, I’m sure you’ll be willing to overlook it.”