“Perhaps this was ill-timed,” he said. “You're upset about your friend, understandably so. Think about it, Eveline. We could present this as a collaboration. There could be something in it for you as well.”
“There's the door,” Eveline said, pointing with a steady hand.
Charles sighed dramatically. “You haven't changed, have you? Still so uncompromising.” He turned and walked to the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. “I'll be in London for a few more days. Think about it.”
When the door closed behind him, Eveline let out a long, shaky breath, leaning against the counter for support.
“I can't believe he had the audacity,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “After everything…”
Emery moved to her side, hesitantly placing a hand on her back. “I'm so sorry,” she said, and meant it with every fiber of her being. For Charles's awful timing, for his cruelty, and for her own deception that now seemed so similar to his.
Eveline turned into her embrace, burying her face against Emery's shoulder. “Just when I think I've moved past it, he shows up and it's like being back in Paris all over again, realizing that the person I trusted most was using me all along.”
Emery felt sick, her arms tightening around Eveline as guilt coursed through her. The envelope lay on the counter, almost mocking her. Maybe this wasn't the right time after all. Maybe, given what had just happened with Charles, the truth would be too much for Eveline to bear.
Maybe she should simply continue the lie. Take Eveline away somewhere, to Tahiti or Italy or anywhere Charles wasn't, and start fresh. Build a life on half-truths and omissions, but a life filled with love, nonetheless.
She glanced at the envelope again, then back at Eveline's dark hair where it brushed against her cheek. What was worse? A painful truth or a comforting lie?
Before she could decide, the shop bell rang. Zara bounded in, followed by Maya, both carrying paper bags that emitted delicious aromas.
“We brought sustenance for the Romance Book Club!” Zara announced, then stopped short when she saw their embrace. “Oh. Is this a bad time?”
Eveline stepped back, wiping quickly at her eyes. “No, it's fine,” she said, her voice steadier than before. “We were just…” She didn't finish the sentence.
Maya, more perceptive than Zara, set her bags down and put her hands on her hips. “What's happened? You both look like you've seen a ghost.”
“Charles came by,” Eveline said simply.
Understanding dawned on Maya's face. “Ah,” she said. She glanced at Emery, then back to Eveline. “And how is Abe? Zara told me you had to rush to the hospital this morning.”
Eveline's expression fell further. “Not good,” she said. “His heart is failing. The doctors say…” She paused, composing herself. “They say he's wearing out. That a full recovery is unlikely.”
“Oh no,” Zara said, her face falling. “Poor Abe.”
“He's not gone yet,” Maya said firmly. “And knowing Abe, he'll be giving those doctors a run for their money.”
Emery nodded. “He was alert enough to scold me for looking worried,” she said, attempting a smile.
Maya squeezed Eveline's arm. “What we need to do is make whatever time he has left as good as possible. Surrounded by books and friends and all the things he loves.”
“You're right,” Eveline said, straightening her shoulders. “That's what he'd want.”
The four of them set about preparing for the Romance Book Club meeting, laying out Maya's pastries, setting up more chairs than usual for the expected crowd, and arranging copies ofThe Woman Without a Paston a special display table.
Emery forced herself to focus on these tasks, trying to ignore the envelope that Eveline had absently placed beside the register. She could still retrieve it, hide it away until a better moment. But what moment would ever be better?
The Romance Book Club members began to arrive, each greeting Eveline warmly. Mrs. Hampton swept in with her usual dramatic flair, bearing a cake and an oddly large bunch of flowers for seemingly no reason at all. The shop filled with chatter and laughter, a welcome distraction from the heaviness of the day.
“Everyone,” Zara called for attention, “before we start discussingThe Woman Without a Past, Eveline has some sad news to share about Abe.”
Eveline stepped forward, her composure fully restored as she shared the update about Abe's condition. The club members expressed their concern and offered support, several volunteering to visit him in hospital with books and treats.
“He'd like that,” Eveline said with a genuine smile. “Now, let's begin our discussion. I know Abe would hate to think he'd interrupted your meeting.”
The discussion flowed easily, with members sharing their thoughts on the themes of identity and reinvention in Pearl's novel. Emery sat quietly at the edge of the group, contributing only when directly addressed. She knew this book inside andout, had written it during a particularly difficult period in her own life, but tonight, she could barely focus on the words.
“I just love how the protagonist recreates herself,” a new member said enthusiastically. She was young, barely out of university by the look of her, with bright eyes and an even brighter smile. “It's like she's saying we can all start over, become someone new if we need to.”
