‘So what will you do?’
The apples of her cheeks colour. ‘I know you’re renovating with a strict budget, but would you consider me for any work around the hotel? Any amount of money would help so I don’t deplete my savings before we go to the Netherlands. Maybe I could help paint?’
We’re so behind with the painting, I’m sure Manon would jump for joy having extra to help. There are still some funds left from the windfall of the items we sold from the storage room.
‘Oui,’ I say, giving her a bright smile. ‘We’d love your help to paint, Juliette. We’ll work out a figure that’s fair for both of us.’
‘Merci!I really appreciate this, Anais.’
‘So do I. Another pair of hands means I can escape earlier to get back to my book…’
‘Speaking of books, this is the park I wanted to show you. Another location for your literary map of Paris. This is Square Gabriel Pierne.’
It’s a small cobblestoned park with statues and a fountain, but what draws the eyes is the benches shaped like open books. ‘This is gorgeous.’
‘It’s beautiful when the cherry blossom tree blooms with pink flowers. It’s usually quiet; not many people know this park exists. It looks so inconsequential on the map of Paris.’
‘It’s the perfect place to read. Thank you for showing me. Guests will love knowing this place exists and visiting with a book to enjoy the solitude.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘This is close to Bibliothèque Mazarine on the Quai de Conti, so guests could visit both places easily.’
‘While not literary, there’s also a stunningparfumerienearby, Officine Universelle Buly 1803. They makeparfumsand lotions with natural products and are very popular with tourists. The shop looks like an old apothecary.’
‘Let’s go take a look.’
27
6 DECEMBER
Christmas lights twinkle festively up and down Rue de Vaugirard.Manon and I shuffle from foot to foot in the blistering rain awaiting delivery of our Christmas tree that was supposed to be here an hour ago. ‘Should we wait inside?’ Manon asks, her breath coming out like fog.
I check my phone again. ‘His text says he’s a few minutes away.’
Manon groans. ‘He probably can’t find parking.’
‘Here he is!’ I point to a truck laden with fresh fir trees. The man pulls up over the kerb and jumps from the cab. ‘Bonsoir, sorry I’m late. Traffic.’
He unties the tree and hefts it over his shoulder as if it weighs nothing. ‘Where do you want it?’
I direct him into Library Anaïs, by the window where we’ve placed a mat to protect the wooden flooring. JP’s crew finished the library room yesterday, the parquetry is polished to a shine and the space is almost empty, bar the fresh tree, ready for us to paint the walls tomorrow.
The man gives us instructions on how to care for the tree and is off before we can even offer him somevin chaud.
‘Now the fun part!’ I say. ‘Decorating the tree. I suppose you’re going to fight me to be the one to put the star on the top.’
‘Ah –oui.’
‘Shall we make a Christmas platter before we start decorating? Earlier today I bought a wedge of double crème brie and gingerbread macarons and…’
She lets out a string of sighs. Usually, Manon and I spend a whole evening decorating the tree. We space it out with glasses of eggnog and eat our bodyweight in agedfromageand spicy saucisson before indulging in sweets. Now, she’s looking everywhere but at me, as if she doesn’t want to be here.
I narrow my eyes as she steals a glance at her watch. ‘Got somewhere to be?’ I ask.
She averts her gaze.
‘Manon.’
