he sang cheerfully. But Lily didn’t mirror his cheer. She eyed the bed, knowing that Paul would be taking his turn. She wished for her own bedroom in Denver. But the coffee smelled good, so she sat at the desk. As he had done the day before, Paul took a seat on the bed and watched.
“I’m sorry it’s not more,” he said.
“Mmmm,” she murmured, chewing on the baguette. Paul rubbed his hands together, then studied them, then rubbed again. Finally, he clasped them together and began pacing the small room. He stopped in front of Lily.
“Maybe I have an idea.”
“Maybe?” Lily took a sip of her café au lait. “About what?”
“I could help you sell your ring.”
Lily started forward, nearly spilling her coffee. Carefully, she set the bowl on the desk.
“Do you really know another place to sell my ring? Crédit Municipal was going to give me 2,250 francs.”
Paul winced slightly. “I think I can get you more or less that.”
“Really? Where?”
“Don’t worry about where,” he said. “You can trust me. I take the ring and give you the money later.”
Lily glanced down at her ring. He’d been so kind, so selfless; he wouldn’t steal from her or otherwise harm her. Still, the ring was her only asset, and she was loathe to part with it. But she realized that it was only worth something to her if she could get money for it. And she needed money; she couldn’t rely on Paul forever.
“I just want to pawn it, not sell it. I want to be able to get it back when I can,” she said.
Paul sat on the bed. Reaching his hand to cover hers, Paul reassured her that she could trust him. Looking into his eyes, she knew she had no choice. She agreed, slipping the ring off her finger and placing it in his palm. He squeezed her hand and suddenly Lily wished she could hand herself over to him, tell him everything, let him help her sort this mess out. But she couldn’t; kind as Paul was, he would surely think she was crazy. She pulled her hand back quickly.
“How can I ever thank you?”
“How about to smile?” Paul said, encouraging her with his own.
She managed a smile to cover her discomfort.
“Okay, then, it’s settled. I can meet you later with the money. First I need to sleep, then I can meet you before my first class. Say, at midday? We will eat something.”
They made plans to meet outside a café near the Sorbonne. Lily told him that she was going to Sylvia’s bookstore to see about the reading. “She might be able to help me, too. She’s known for that,” Lily said.
“For what?”
“For helping Americans in distress.” Lily shrugged. “I guess that’s me.”
Paul said that he knew the bookstore. Lily couldn’t hide her surprise. He grinned.
“How do you think my English is so perfect?”
“So you know Sylvia?”
“I have talked to her. I would not say ‘know,’ but yes, I borrow books there. It’s a good place to practice my English.”
Lily wished she could stay and talk with him all day, but he had to sleep and she had to see Sylvia. Standing, she put her jacket on, feeling the weight of the pen in the pocket.
“Okay, then,” she said.
“Okay,” Paul echoed.
She laughed. His accent was cute, and the more time she spent with him, the cuter he became. She turned to the door.
“Don’t let my mother see you leave,” he cautioned, following her.
“No way! See you later. And thank you, Paul.”
He stared at her and for a second Lily thought that he was going to say something, that she had revealed herself to him. But he just leaned over to give a bise .
“À bientôt, Lily.” Paul said, his voice close to her ear. She held very still and accepted his gentle kiss on her cheek. Turning, she left the room and quietly descended the stairs.
ON HER WAY to the bookstore, Lily barely noticed the route. Absorbed in thoughts about Sylvia Beach, she paused for the light at the boulevard Saint-Germain. She tried to remember all the questions she’d had about Sylvia that
“I’m sorry it’s not more,” he said.
“Mmmm,” she murmured, chewing on the baguette. Paul rubbed his hands together, then studied them, then rubbed again. Finally, he clasped them together and began pacing the small room. He stopped in front of Lily.
“Maybe I have an idea.”
“Maybe?” Lily took a sip of her café au lait. “About what?”
“I could help you sell your ring.”
Lily started forward, nearly spilling her coffee. Carefully, she set the bowl on the desk.
“Do you really know another place to sell my ring? Crédit Municipal was going to give me 2,250 francs.”
Paul winced slightly. “I think I can get you more or less that.”
“Really? Where?”
“Don’t worry about where,” he said. “You can trust me. I take the ring and give you the money later.”
Lily glanced down at her ring. He’d been so kind, so selfless; he wouldn’t steal from her or otherwise harm her. Still, the ring was her only asset, and she was loathe to part with it. But she realized that it was only worth something to her if she could get money for it. And she needed money; she couldn’t rely on Paul forever.
“I just want to pawn it, not sell it. I want to be able to get it back when I can,” she said.
Paul sat on the bed. Reaching his hand to cover hers, Paul reassured her that she could trust him. Looking into his eyes, she knew she had no choice. She agreed, slipping the ring off her finger and placing it in his palm. He squeezed her hand and suddenly Lily wished she could hand herself over to him, tell him everything, let him help her sort this mess out. But she couldn’t; kind as Paul was, he would surely think she was crazy. She pulled her hand back quickly.
“How can I ever thank you?”
“How about to smile?” Paul said, encouraging her with his own.
She managed a smile to cover her discomfort.
“Okay, then, it’s settled. I can meet you later with the money. First I need to sleep, then I can meet you before my first class. Say, at midday? We will eat something.”
They made plans to meet outside a café near the Sorbonne. Lily told him that she was going to Sylvia’s bookstore to see about the reading. “She might be able to help me, too. She’s known for that,” Lily said.
“For what?”
“For helping Americans in distress.” Lily shrugged. “I guess that’s me.”
Paul said that he knew the bookstore. Lily couldn’t hide her surprise. He grinned.
“How do you think my English is so perfect?”
“So you know Sylvia?”
“I have talked to her. I would not say ‘know,’ but yes, I borrow books there. It’s a good place to practice my English.”
Lily wished she could stay and talk with him all day, but he had to sleep and she had to see Sylvia. Standing, she put her jacket on, feeling the weight of the pen in the pocket.
“Okay, then,” she said.
“Okay,” Paul echoed.
She laughed. His accent was cute, and the more time she spent with him, the cuter he became. She turned to the door.
“Don’t let my mother see you leave,” he cautioned, following her.
“No way! See you later. And thank you, Paul.”
He stared at her and for a second Lily thought that he was going to say something, that she had revealed herself to him. But he just leaned over to give a bise .
“À bientôt, Lily.” Paul said, his voice close to her ear. She held very still and accepted his gentle kiss on her cheek. Turning, she left the room and quietly descended the stairs.
ON HER WAY to the bookstore, Lily barely noticed the route. Absorbed in thoughts about Sylvia Beach, she paused for the light at the boulevard Saint-Germain. She tried to remember all the questions she’d had about Sylvia that
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