“Domi insisted. Said I was one bookshop avalanche away from a lawsuit.”
As Emery stretched and climbed out of bed, Eveline watched her with a mixture of love and concern. Something had been off lately. For weeks now, Emery had been disappearing for hours at a time, returning with vague explanations about “errands” and “research.” Eveline had tried not to worry, they'd promised honesty after all, but she couldn't help wondering.
“I thought we might visit Montmartre this morning,” Eveline said. “Before the ceremony.”
Emery, halfway to the bathroom, knocked over a decorative vase of flowers, catching it just before it shattered. “Whoops! Still got it,” she laughed, righting the vase with water-splashed hands. “Montmartre sounds lovely, but I actually need to meet Domi for a bit. Last-minute ceremony details.”
“Again?” Eveline tried to keep the disappointment from her voice.
“I promise it won't take long,” said Emery said. “We'll have plenty of time to be tourists.”
As Emery disappeared into the bathroom, Eveline sank back against the pillows. Perhaps she was being oversensitive. After all, this was Emery's first major literary prize. Of course she was preoccupied.
Eveline's thoughts drifted to Abe, whose absence still felt like a fresh wound. He would have loved this, Emery being celebrated in Paris. Part of his inheritance had made this trip possible, a final gift that seemed perfectly fitting.
“He would have insisted on coming,” Eveline said to herself. “Probably would have charmed every Parisian with his dreadful French.”
When Emery emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, dressed in jeans and a blue sweater that brought out her eyes, she was already checking her phone.
“Sorry, but I really do need to run,” she said, gathering her bag. “Domi's having some kind of crisis with the ceremony arrangements.”
“Go,” Eveline said with a small smile. “I'll explore a bit on my own.”
At the door, Emery paused, looking back with an expression Eveline couldn't quite read. “Tonight will be perfect,” she promised.
And before Eveline could say anything, Emery was gone, leaving only the lingering scent of her perfume.
EVELINE RAN HER along the spines of antique books, inhaling the familiar scent of paper and leather. This tiny bookshop tucked away on a Parisian side street reminded her so much of The Turned Page that she had to smile. Books were her constant, her home no matter where she stood in the world.
“C'est magnifique, n'est-ce pas?” the elderly shopkeeper asked, noticing her appreciation.
“Oui,” Eveline replied. “Ça me rappelle ma propre librairie à Londres.”
After browsing the shelves, she selected a beautifully bound edition of Neruda's sonnets in the original Spanish with French translations, a perfect gift for Emery, who still struggled with French but had been making mysterious efforts lately.
Back at the hotel, she carefully wrapped the book in tissue paper she'd brought. Emery still hadn't returned, and the ceremony was only hours away. Checking her watch, Eveline decided to start getting ready. The black dress she'd chosen hung waiting in the closet.
As she applied her makeup, the hotel room door opened with a crash.
“Sorry! Sorry!” Emery called out, stumbling in with her arms full of shopping bags. “The door was heavier than it looked.”
Eveline turned, amused. “Did Domi make you buy all of Paris?”
“Just the good parts,” Emery grinned, looking flushed and happy. She dumped the bags unceremoniously on the bed and came to wrap her arms around Eveline's waist. “You look beautiful already.”
“Flatterer,” Eveline said, but leaned into the embrace. “I've missed you today.”
“I know. I'm sorry.” Emery kissed her shoulder. “But tonight will be worth it, I promise.”
As they finished dressing, Emery grew quiet, fiddling nervously with her earrings.
“Abe would have loved this,” Eveline said softly, watching Emery's reflection in the mirror.
Emery's eyes met hers. “I was just thinking that. He'd probably insist on giving a speech himself.”
“Definitely,” Eveline laughed. “Followed by reciting poetry badly in three languages.”
“I miss him,” said Emery, her voice catching.
