seemed much like any other. Maybe just a bit darker. The only window was shielded by the thick branches of a plant, and the ceiling was vaulted. Elena got to the door and, when it opened easily, she was surprised. There was no way sheâd developed superhuman strength overnight: those hinges had been oiled.
âAt eight in the morning?â she wondered. That was surprisingly efficient maintenance work.
She was about to go out when a thought popped into her head.She stretched out a hand and pressed the switch. The white ceiling light lit up. She stared at it for a moment, then turned it off. A smile lit up her face in turn. It was him. She couldnât be certain, but sheâd bet it was.
When she got outside, it was like going back in time. An Italian-style garden occupied the central part of the large courtyard, with flower beds divided into colored sections. The wet leaves of the trees dripped onto the heads of children running along the paths. She kept looking around with a mixture of happiness and astonishment. Were it not for the numbered doors around the edges, she would have sworn she was in the courtyard of a castle.
She stopped for a few minutes to watch the children, ignoring curious looks from a group of men talking among themselves. It seemed sheâd become the topic of conversation for the morning. And while once she would have been mortified to be the center of attention, right now she couldnât care less. The sky had cleared, streaks of cobalt blue between neat lines of rooftops. Cold air, all the smells of a morning just beginning: freshly baked bread, coffee, croissants. Her appetite had returned.
She stopped in a café at the end of rue des Rosiers and ate hungrily. She had to laugh when, paying the bill, she discovered that Antoine, the owner, was in fact Antonio Grassi, who had been born and lived in Naples until a few months earlier. âCome back and see us, signorina. You wonât find a better cappuccino in Paris.â
She carried on walking through the quarterâs ancient streets, careful not to stray too far, losing her way and finding it again. It was comforting, walking without a purpose, without a schedule, without having to let anyone know or take anyone else into account. She felt free, completely and utterly free. She could do whatever she wanted. She could stop and look at the sky, the river, or through shop windows as long as she liked. Nobody was judging her; nobody knew who shewas. It was as though, suddenly, someone had let go of the string on the balloon that was her life.
For the first time, she didnât mind being alone. Elena realized that the pressure she had felt to be with someone was no longer a need; it wasnât even a desire.
For the first time, she was happy by herself.
Eight
R OSE:
love. A difficult essence to obtain. Sweet and light.
The fragrance symbolizes feelings and emotions.
Encourages personal initiative and the arts.
âB
onjour, ma chérie.
I read your friendâs CV. If youâre still thinking of putting her forward for the job, letâs talk about it over dinner. I canât pretend Iâm not interested, but the fact is, Narcissus is not a recruitment firm. Youâll have to convince me. Come prepared.â
It was the third time Monique had listened to the message Jacques had left on her voice mail. Waves of anger rose up inside her, spilled over, abated, then started all over again.
Jacques would send a car to pick her up tonight. She had been summoned. How dare he treat her like that?
She picked up her bag and left. Oh, sheâd convince him, all right! There was no question he was about to see just how convincing she could be.
â¢Â   â¢Â   â¢
âAre you ready? Iâm taking you outâI want to introduce you to someone,â Monique said, walking through the front door.
âI thought it would be just the two of us,â Elena replied, giving her a hug.
âAt eight in the morning?â she wondered. That was surprisingly efficient maintenance work.
She was about to go out when a thought popped into her head.She stretched out a hand and pressed the switch. The white ceiling light lit up. She stared at it for a moment, then turned it off. A smile lit up her face in turn. It was him. She couldnât be certain, but sheâd bet it was.
When she got outside, it was like going back in time. An Italian-style garden occupied the central part of the large courtyard, with flower beds divided into colored sections. The wet leaves of the trees dripped onto the heads of children running along the paths. She kept looking around with a mixture of happiness and astonishment. Were it not for the numbered doors around the edges, she would have sworn she was in the courtyard of a castle.
She stopped for a few minutes to watch the children, ignoring curious looks from a group of men talking among themselves. It seemed sheâd become the topic of conversation for the morning. And while once she would have been mortified to be the center of attention, right now she couldnât care less. The sky had cleared, streaks of cobalt blue between neat lines of rooftops. Cold air, all the smells of a morning just beginning: freshly baked bread, coffee, croissants. Her appetite had returned.
She stopped in a café at the end of rue des Rosiers and ate hungrily. She had to laugh when, paying the bill, she discovered that Antoine, the owner, was in fact Antonio Grassi, who had been born and lived in Naples until a few months earlier. âCome back and see us, signorina. You wonât find a better cappuccino in Paris.â
She carried on walking through the quarterâs ancient streets, careful not to stray too far, losing her way and finding it again. It was comforting, walking without a purpose, without a schedule, without having to let anyone know or take anyone else into account. She felt free, completely and utterly free. She could do whatever she wanted. She could stop and look at the sky, the river, or through shop windows as long as she liked. Nobody was judging her; nobody knew who shewas. It was as though, suddenly, someone had let go of the string on the balloon that was her life.
For the first time, she didnât mind being alone. Elena realized that the pressure she had felt to be with someone was no longer a need; it wasnât even a desire.
For the first time, she was happy by herself.
Eight
R OSE:
love. A difficult essence to obtain. Sweet and light.
The fragrance symbolizes feelings and emotions.
Encourages personal initiative and the arts.
âB
onjour, ma chérie.
I read your friendâs CV. If youâre still thinking of putting her forward for the job, letâs talk about it over dinner. I canât pretend Iâm not interested, but the fact is, Narcissus is not a recruitment firm. Youâll have to convince me. Come prepared.â
It was the third time Monique had listened to the message Jacques had left on her voice mail. Waves of anger rose up inside her, spilled over, abated, then started all over again.
Jacques would send a car to pick her up tonight. She had been summoned. How dare he treat her like that?
She picked up her bag and left. Oh, sheâd convince him, all right! There was no question he was about to see just how convincing she could be.
â¢Â   â¢Â   â¢
âAre you ready? Iâm taking you outâI want to introduce you to someone,â Monique said, walking through the front door.
âI thought it would be just the two of us,â Elena replied, giving her a hug.
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