“You could stay.” She raised her eyes, and devastation washed through the hazel depths—then washed away.
In her storeroom. They’d have a little chaperone, but they could speak.
“Would she like that?” Lucie asked.
“Yes, I would—shewould.”
“All right.” She tucked Paul’s card back in the box.
He tapped his finger on the box to get her attention, then flashed a smile. “Miss Girard, you are brilliant.”
She winced and turned her head as if he’d had onion soup at the café instead of ersatz coffee. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.” Paul stared after her as she flitted to the back office. How could he wait that long to find out what was wrong?
29
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER21, 1941
No one but Paul and Josie stood outside Green Leaf Books, but Lucie peered out the window one last time. As requested, the Aubreys arrived half an hour after Lucie, so she had time to change into leotard, tights, and a wraparound skirt.
She ushered them in and led them through the empty store. “Shh. We mustn’t wake Monsieur Meow. He naps all Sunday afternoon, the lazy cat.”
Josie giggled, then clapped her hand over her mouth.
The back door opened to the stairwell, where another door led out to the courtyard. Coming through the store, they’d avoided the nosy concierge.
Lucie climbed the stairs and entered the storeroom. Sunlight poured over the wooden floor. Boxes were piled against two walls, leaving the floor and the barre clear for dancing.
Paul closed the door. “This is where you ladies practice?”
Lucie sat on a crate and exchanged her pumps for ballet slippers. “I practice here every evening after the store closes. Marie-Claude and Véronique used to join me, but not anymore.” Without the ballet to bind them together, the friendship was fraying, and Lucie frowned.
Paul removed his hat and stepped up to the mural. “Did this come with the place?”
“Oh no.” The mural was almost what she’d imagined. Perhaps two more dancers. “I’ve been painting it bit by bit.”
Paul turned to her, eyebrows high, smile wide. “You never fail to amaze me.”
Her throat threatened to close, and she focused on her slippers so she wouldn’t dissolve. Although she wanted to unburden herself to him, Josie deserved her full attention.
Josie swung her arms back and forth. “When can I dance on my toes?”
“Not for a long time, little one. I didn’t get my first pointe shoes until I was ten. All ballerinas learn to dance in soft ballet slippers like I’m wearing.” She lifted a pair, the dusky rose leather scuffed and cracked. “This is my first pair. They’re a little big for you, but we’ll make do. Sit down, and I’ll help you.”
Eyes huge, Josie plopped to the floor and stuck out her legs from under her brown plaid dress.
Lucie took off Josie’s Mary Janes and slid on the slippers. She pulled the strings tight, tied a bow, and tucked it inside the slipper.
“Let’s start with first position.” Lucie stood and removed the knee-length wraparound skirt from over her skirted black leotard. “Stand with your heels together—”
Scraping and thumping sounds. Paul sat lopsided on a crate, his feet scrabbling under him. He averted his eyes, his color high. “I—uh, missed.”
Because he’d never seen her in a leotard before? Lucie almost laughed for the first time in days.
But she didn’t want to embarrass the man, so she stood in first position with her heels together. “Only turn out your feet as far as is comfortable.”
Josie wobbled, her legs bent.
