CHAPTER ONE
Sylvie Boucher wipedthe sweat from her brow and peeled her sticky thigh from the chair. The late September spike in temperature had surprised none of her southern French neighbors, but she’d already packed away her summer clothes, ready for the new term to begin.
Isabelle de Causier shifted under the parasol, draped in white linen. “Your move, Professor Boucher.”
“I’m so hot,” said Sylvie, envying her friend’s effortless style and poise.
“Damn right.” Isa raised her eyebrow with a hint of her typical mischief. “Too hot to be spending all these nights alone.”
“I mean, I’m sweating from every orifice.” Sylvie nudged her black queen into the sight line of Isa’s king and dabbed the moisture from her lip. She wafted the menu, creating no breeze at all. How did this city carry on in such sweltering temperatures?
The waiter danced across the town square with a sixth sense for who needed his attention. He stopped at a table with a couple engrossed in one another as if the bustling around them didn’t exist. Sylvie dismissed the pulling sensation in her gut. Aside from a full-on job and the odd game of chess, her time in the south had so far been pretty unadventurous. And quite lonely.
“Damn it.” Sylvie had missed the sly maneuver which had lost her the advantage. “Always ten steps ahead, you fox.”
“Foxy. I like that.” Isa’s contagious laugh attracted the attention of the neighboring tables.
Sylvie dismissed the flirtation. Isa was nothing more than a new friend. God knows she’d needed one when she arrived inMontpellier hoping to break the glass ceiling of academia.
“Can you believe the summer is over? It’s devastating.” Isa sipped her cool rosé. “Another year of herding students through the halls again. Yuck.”
Sylvie shrugged. “Another merry-go-round of ignorance and calamity.” She puffed warm air across her top lip. “I’m looking forward to the autumn. This heat is unbearable. When will it cool down?”
“Just in time for reading week, I suspect. You’ve another month yet.” Isa moved her knight to take Sylvie’s queen. “At least we have the beach. Paris must be awful in the summer.”
Sylvie peeked over her oversized sunglasses. “Real Parisians don’t stay for the summer.”
“Makes sense.” Isa patted her sundress. “Are you taking on the new classes this term?”
“Paul asked me.” Sylvie scowled, recalling the strained conversation before the end of last semester. “But he’s more concerned with me finishing my book.”
“Mais oui. Mon amie, the published professor. How many books have you written now?”
“Soon to be five.” Sylvie frowned, the seed of doubt stirring inside. “If I can get to work.”
“I have every faith in you. You’re a winner at life, Sylvie.” Isa took the king with a flourish. “Except in chess. Checkmate.”
The waiter appeared from nowhere and relieved them of their empty glasses. “Can I get you another?”
“I shouldn’t really. I have some work to do.” Sylvie tapped a cigarette on the cast iron table and made to leave, dismissing the waiter with a nod.
“Oh, come on, you may as well settle in for the afternoon.” Isa adjusted her wide-brimmed sun hat and held out her hand. “We’re playing in the sunshine with fine wine flowing. I’ll make a southerner of you yet.”
The beautiful white stone of the old buildings flanked them onfour sides. Relaxed locals weaved through the cafés on their gentle meander across town. It was nothing like the grey business of a September in Paris. On days like these, Sylvie wondered whether she could make this city her forever home. “I’m not so sure. Another year rounding up eighteen-year-olds and I might have a change of heart.”
“It’s your heart that’s the problem. I think you left a piece of it back in Paris.”
The memory of her last kiss flooded Sylvie’s mind. Paris had been warm and crowded that day, but the kiss had been cold and empty. She and Armelle dated for a few weeks, but it was nothing serious. Armelle had grown clingy and intolerable, eventually giving Sylvie an ultimatum: all in or call it. Sylvie hadn’t given it a second thought. She had no desire to overcomplicate life with co-dependence on another human, and with no relationship and a stalled career, there really had been a diminishing list of things keeping her in the capital.
Two months later, she’d seen the chance for a transfer to Montpellier and the promise of a new start. “No, my heart is very much here, along with the rest of me. I left Paris for the taste of something new and that’s what I got.” Sort of. The past year had been more of a simple entrée than a full plat du jour, but she was hopeful that promotion was on the menu this year. With that came status and connections. She yearned for international travel and the chance to share her work with a global audience.
Another couple walked past: two stylish women hand in hand. Sylvie met Isa’s stare. “Okay, so I haven’t quite nailed a love life, but casual dating isn’t for me.”
“You can’t expect some intellectual beauty to come walking into your lecture room and throw themselves at your feet. You might need to do some of the leg work. You should put yourself out there.”
Sylvie cringed. She’d say the same to her single friends. “I don’t want to bare my soul on the internet.”
“Your soul has nothing to do with it. It’s your smile people are interested in, among other things.”
