The Little Antique Shop Under the Eiffel Tower (12 page)

When he stumbled upon my shop all those summers ago, his grief was so apparent it was like a shadow cast behind him. These days his visits were happier affairs. I’d make us tea, and we’d talk into the night, pretending he was looking for a piece of jewelry, or a music box, something his wife would have adored.

Tonight, our conversation had come to an end as Casper pulled on his lead, a sign he was ready for home, and his dinner. Gilles finished his tea and reached for his cane.

“
Désolé
, Anouk. These music boxes are
charmant
, but they’re not quite what I was looking for.”

The music boxes were among the best I’d ever found, in pristine condition and played ‘Clair De Lune’ with such clarity, I hoped they’d one day go to a little girl who’d listen to them over and over again, face rapt, heart aflutter. “I understand.” I patted his hand and gave him an apologetic smile. “These things cannot be rushed. Maybe next week I’ll have some different ones?” I said gently, keeping up our charade.

“Well, in that case, I’ll be back next week,” he said, just like he always did.

“I’ll look forward to it.” I moved from around the counter, and chucked Casper under his furry chin, and gave Gilles a hug. Under his jacket he was all bones, and I worried about him between our visits.

“Au revoir.”

I waved goodbye and watched them retreat along the promenade, their shadows lengthening behind them and eventually disappearing. My heart tugged for Gilles as I imagined him in his tiny apartment all alone in the pitch black of night, eating soup for one. At least he had Casper. Gilles’s wife had died fifteen years before, and still he couldn’t quite believe she was gone. He spoke of her as if she had just stepped out and was coming back any moment. Her death left a gaping hole in his world that could never be filled, so he walked. Pounded the cobblestones of Paris, and chatted to his fluffy white dog, until the day drew to a close. It wasn’t as if he wore his grief on his face anymore, but it was there, just off in the distance, hovering near. Still after all this time, it was there. There was something poignant, touching about it.

I wondered what that would feel like, to love someone so completely that without them everything in the world paled, faded to gray scale. That never-ending ache for a person gone. At least they’d had that eclipsing once-in-a-lifetime love that was so hard to find.

I cleared our tea things away, and left the shop to sit in darkness, save for a small lamp that glowed dull yellow in one corner. Outside was eerily silent. It was a rare snatch of time when the city stilled like it was taking a deep breath, ready for the frivolity the night would bring. Dinner, dancing, laughter. A lull in the long day, for me to walk alone, and reflect on the inexplicable business of living.

Along Rue De Babylone I stopped to sniff a bouquet of flowers. They were as pretty as any I’d seen, pale pink, as delicate as tissue paper. Peonies. One of the most beautiful flowers on this earth with petals folded inward protecting the heart of the bloom.

The shopkeeper was packing up for the night, and gave me a nod. I shook my head no. As much as I loved them, I bought my flowers from Rachelle from the little flower shop near the Notre Dame, and I’d feel guilty spending my money elsewhere.

I continued down some other avenues eventually passing Église Saint-Sulpice, a Catholic church with an ornate façade and a paved square with a fountain.

Turning the corner, I came to the little boulangerie where I bought my baguettes and whatever other delicious morsels they had on offer. Tonight I had my heart set on decadent simple trois quiche au fromage, a three-cheese quiche. Comfort food French style.

I went to the counter and ordered, and tried my best to keep my eyes from the mouthwatering palmiers on display, the rolled sugar-dusted puff pastry biscuits were hard to resist late at night with a cup of café noir. But I reasoned, I’d be on a caffeinated sugar high, and that wasn’t the best idea.

With my quiche in hand, I headed to my apartment, surprised to see the balcony in darkness and no music blaring. Lilou and Henry must have gone out in Paris together, and once again, I wondered how Lilou managed to live such a lifestyle on her meager budget. She had said that she was focusing on her jewelry business but it didn’t look like much work was going on. I hoped she would persevere and really push herself, because she was good at it, her creativity was spellbinding, and I wanted her to believe in herself and stick with something.

But living with her was another thing entirely. Bracing myself for the worst, I opened the front door but I was surprised to find the living room orderly. Aside from an empty plate or two on the coffee table it wasn’t as ravaged as I’d expected it to be. Perhaps she was growing up, finally. Taking the quiche into the kitchen I choked on my former happiness. Mon Dieu! Every cupboard must’ve been bare, dirty saucepans, pots, plates, mugs, and wineglasses littered every available surface. What had she attempted to cook today to use every single piece of crockery? And why? She hated cooking.

Dinner would have to wait. I was the type of person who couldn’t relax with a mess like this greeting me. My maman had taught me to be tidy, organized, and clean. Somehow Lilou had missed out on that lesson growing up. I filled the sink, and rolled up my sleeves, muttering and cursing under my breath, when the doorbell buzzed.

I hurried to answer it. There was my sister, bright-eyed, leaning against the doorjamb. “Lilou…”

“I forgot my key,” she said, with her megawatt smile in place. “This must be for you.” She handed me an envelope with my name written across the front and flounced past me.

I tucked it away into my pocket. “Lilou, what happened in the kitchen? You’ve completely burned my cast-iron pot. How is that even possible?”

With a shake of her head as if I was complaining about the weather she said, “Aren’t you going to read it?” She pointed to my pocket where the envelope was buried.

“Aren’t
you
going to answer me?” I crossed my arms, feeling like the petulant older sister once more.

Henry walked in sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry about the kitchen; that was my fault. I’ll tidy it up now.”

I raised a brow but remained silent as Henry walked past me. Would I have to stow away my best bakeware? I had dishes that my maman had given me that were passed down from her mother. My kitchen and its stock were special to me. Just then the phone buzzed, and I gave Lilou one last glare before retreating to answer it.

“Bonsoir?”

“Bonsoir, Anouk. Where have you girls been? It’s impossible to get hold of you!” My papa’s voice thundered down the line.

Even though I was twenty-eight, an adult, and responsible for my own life, I still gulped. “Papa,
désolée
.” I threw a dark look at Lilou, who’d gone lily-white on hearing Papa’s name. “I’ve been busy with work. I didn’t get any messages from you.”

He scoffed. “I’m not talking to a machine. That’s ridiculous! I refuse to leave a message like a blathering fool. Now where is Lilou? I had a letter from the school saying she’s missed the examinations, and I told the woman that’s simply not possible. Absolutely not! Not with you making sure she attends.”

I scowled at Lilou who was acting out a charade, with her palms together and head cocked to one side. She mouthed, ‘Tell him I’m asleep!’

“That’s odd,” I said, my mind spinning with what I could say. I wanted to tell the truth, but I knew that would be the end of Lilou’s freedom in Paris. She’d have no choice but to go home, and as much trouble as she was, I didn’t want that. But how to get out of this conundrum?

“Why don’t I phone the college tomorrow, Papa, and see what’s going on? I’m sure she’s been attending…” I scrunched my eyes closed at the lie, and hoped he’d believe me. “And I know she’s been doing
very
well with her jewelry-making business, so well in fact, she’s thinking of it as a possible career choice.” In the background Lilou jumped and clapped, doing a happy dance across the living room floor.

“What! She’s thinking what?” he roared. Oh dear. Too soon.

“Oh you know, it’s just an idea at this stage. She’s
very
good at it.”

“Very this, very that. No, Anouk, and don’t you encourage her. Making jewelry won’t pay her rent, and next week it’ll be something else, and her life will be wasted. She needs a good job to attract the right sort of man to make her husband.”

I rolled my eyes so far I almost fell over backward. “Papa, please, that kind of talk is archaic.”

He huffed and puffed like a disgruntled bear. “Anouk, please, at twenty-eight you should be married and have children by now. See what this independence does? It makes women into spinsters.”

“Papa! You can’t say things like that; it’s not nice!” I closed my eyes and tried hard to keep my breathing even. Poor Papa hadn’t so much moved with the times, as stayed rooted in another era. He didn’t mean to be insulting, but someone had to tell him off, and it usually fell to me.

“What? It’s true – admit it. If you’d listened to me, you’d have married that boy down the road and I’d have a hundred grandbabies by now, but instead you strutted off and opened a shop in Paris, and fell into the trap of the ‘modern woman’. I won’t have both my daughters make the same mistake.”

“Oh, Papa, be realistic! The boy down the road wasn’t interested in me, nor I in him. I’m actually pretty sure he preferred the company of men… It was only you who was determined he’d do and that was only because he lived so close by.”

“The company of men? Every man needs some time with friends. What does that matter? I’m sure he wouldn’t have begrudged you some time with your lady friends.”

I bit my bottom lip against laughter. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

“Well what did you mean?”

There was no point telling Papa the boy down the road was gay – he’d just protest otherwise. “What I mean is, you can’t map out our lives, Papa. We know you care, but sometimes you just have to let nature take its course.”

“I can so, and I will! Where is she?” he asked. “I want to get to the bottom of this examination debacle so I can call the college back and let them know, in no uncertain terms, that I expect her certificate sent to me once she’s done. I’ve got a feeling they just want more money out of me.”

At that moment I wished I’d been honest with him from the start. Never again, I vowed, would I get myself embroiled in Lilou’s mess. I’d gone too far with the white lies now to change my story. “Ah, she’s…” Lilou’s eyes grew wide. “Asleep. She had a big day at…study club.” Study club! That’d be the day.

“Well tell her to call me. No more of this dodging me or I’ll make a trip to Paris myself, you hear?” In the background the TV burbled. As usual Papa had the volume too high.

“Oui, Papa. I’ll tell her.”

“Good,” he said.

“How’s Maman?”

“She’s making dessert.”

“But how is she?”

He grumbled to himself. “She’s as she always is. What is this? The Spanish Inquisition?”

I sighed. He was a man of few words once his steam ran out. “OK, Papa, send Maman my love and we’ll talk soon.”

Before I could put the phone down Lilou threw herself at me, and hugged me tight, squeezing the breath from my lungs. “Oh my God, thank you, Anouk! You were very convincing! Did he go on about the spinster thing again?”

I nodded, a giggle escaping me. He was like a father from a historical romance. “See what independence does? It makes women into spinsters!” I mimicked his gruff tone.

She bent double with laughter. “He’s a throwback from the 1900s!”

We spent the next ten minutes dissecting Papa’s foibles, before gathering ourselves. I said more solemnly, “What are you going to do about the classes? They’ve called him about you missing the exams. And we’ve both lied about it. It can’t end well, that’s for sure.”

In typical Lilou style she flung herself on the chaise and shrugged breezily. “I never told Papa I’d do it. He just
assumed
I’d follow orders, and I won’t, Anouk! I’m not a baby anymore, even though everyone thinks I am. I know I can make this jewelry business work, and I also know no one believes me and that’s fine because I’ll prove you all wrong.” Her eyes were full of determination, but they were every time she had her heart set on something new.

Gently, I suggested, “Maybe you should work at it, as hard as you can, and then you can tell Papa to keep the allowance he’s giving you. Then you
will
truly be free.”

She laughed. “Well, let’s not rush into it. Free money is free money and I am the baby of the family.”

I shook my head, even though I couldn’t stop a small smile breaking out. “You’re unbelievable.”

It wasn’t until I was in bed that I remembered the envelope. I went to my jacket to find it and ripped it open.

Dear Anouk,

I’d hate to see you waste away with work consuming you like it does. I’ve been practicing my technique for fromage soufflé (see what I did there? I even say it with a French accent) and I think you’ll be impressed.

Tristan.

I smiled at the words, trying to picture Tristan in the kitchen baking… His French needed a little work though. It was soufflé au fromage, not fromage soufflé. How had Lilou come into possession of the letter? My letterbox was in the foyer but only I had a key to it. I made a mental note to ask her in the morning. Still, what was the point of dinner? A tingle raced down my body at the thought of those eyes of his, and I wanted to scold myself.
This is how it started last time, and look what happened.
But what was the harm in sharing dinner? A girl had to eat.

Chapter Ten

In abject horror, I switched off the morning news program, and hurriedly dressed for work, my mind a jumble of worry. Another theft. And this time one of our most cherished jewelry collections. A set of sapphires so deep blue they made you think you were in the depths of the ocean. They’d been on display at Avant – one of the busiest Paris museums – and were snatched in broad daylight without triggering any alarms. It was almost like the thief was invisible. If they could steal something so boldly, when would this end? When there was nothing left? There was no more time to ruminate.