The waiter eyed Audrey’s ripped jeans. “I don’t think—”
“If you could lay another place at my table and bring a menu, that would be appreciated.” Without giving him the opportunity to protest, she shepherded Audrey back to her table.
Audrey slumped into the chair opposite Grace. “Okay, that was pretty cool. I have no idea what you said, of course, but you, like, shriveled him with your eyes. He was going to throw me out. I’m not polished enough for this place. They don’t approve of me.”
Grace heard the wobble in her voice.
“It’s a hotel. We don’t need their approval. I’m paying a fortune for the privilege of staying here, so the least they can do is let me choose my own dining companion.”
Audrey chewed her fingernail. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”
Grace knew a teenager in crisis when she saw one, but that didn’t explain why Audrey had come to find her at the hotel. Why not call her own mother?
Maybe she felt awkward admitting that her Paris dream wasn’t going well.
She studied Audrey’s face and saw the blotched pallor that suggested a fit of crying. She reminded Grace of a flower that had been drenched in a storm and lost all its petals. “Did something happen?”
Audrey finished mauling one nail and started on another. “She fired me.”
“Who?”
“Elodie. She owns the bookstore.” Audrey sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “A woman came in this morning and asked me something in French, she wouldn’t even speak slowly, and I had no idea what she was saying and then Elodie arrived in the middle of it and this woman complained about me. Not that I understood the words, but there was no misinterpreting the tone. Turns out I’m fluent in angry voice. After she went, Elodie told me I can’t stay. She wants a French speaker, or at least someone who is willing to learn French. She’s given me a week to find somewhere else to live. And I have a job at the hairdresser now, but that doesn’t pay enough to cover rent and food. So I’m totally stuffed.” There was a hiccup in her voice, and Grace reached into her bag for a tissue.
“Here—” She handed it across the table.
She badly wanted to fix this but last time she’d offered help, Audrey had fled. This time she was not going to push her help on anyone.
“Why don’t you eat something?” She gestured to the waiter who approached hesitantly, sending a glance toward his boss.
“Madame?”
Grace ignored both the menu and his disapproving expression and thought about what Sophie liked when she was miserable. “We’d like a large pot of hot chocolate, please. Also, a plate of toasted English muffins, scrambled eggs and crispy bacon.” She froze and glanced at Audrey. “You’d probably like to order for yourself.”
Audrey shook her head. “I like what you ordered.”
“When did you last eat a piece of fruit?”
Audrey slumped in her chair and lifted one shoulder. “That drink you gave me the other night.”
“We’ll also have a fresh fruit platter.” It felt so good to be able to care for someone. To be needed, even if this was only a very small thing.
The waiter retreated, and Grace turned her attention back to Audrey.
It almost killed her to wait, but she waited.
Audrey scrubbed at her cheeks with her palm. “So I was wondering—I mean, you speak French, so I thought maybe—well, you could teach me a few phrases. Just say them into my phone and I’ll memorize them. If you have time. And you probably don’t, and that’s fine. I shouldn’t even have come.” She half rose, and Grace felt a flash of sympathy.
“I’d be happy to teach you some phrases. As few or as many as you like.”
Audrey sat down slowly. “Thanks. Then I can look for a new job.”
“Maybe if you explained
to Elodie that you’re learning basic French, she might let you stay.”
“She won’t.”
Grace sat back as the waiter arrived with the hot chocolate. She waited while he poured a cup for Audrey.