packing tonight.” Lindsey had been putting it off. She still couldn’t believe her daughter was moving so far away or that she was going back to Paris after all these years. She hadn’t returned since she’d studied abroad. Valentine’s Day that year had come and gone, and Jack never arrived. The phone calls and letters slowed to a halt, and honestly, she’d all but forgotten about him—until her daughter had decided to spend the next semester following in her footsteps.
“Throw in something sexy,” Maggie said with a smile.
“Why?” Lindsey was going to be spending every day and night with her daughter before she moved into her dorm.
“You’re going to Paris, girl. Not New Jersey.”
Maggie did have a point, but Lindsey didn’t want to think about it. The last time she fell in love in Paris, she’d ended up heartbroken.
She had no plans to repeat her past. This trip to France would be all about Alexa. Speaking of, she still had a lot to do before she left, and her daughter would be home soon. She smiled and finished the last of her coffee. “You know what? I’m going to take the rest of the day off. Can you handle everything? The next issue’s ready for print, and I do need to pack.”
“Of course,” Maggie said.
“I’ll be on my cell if you need me,” Lindsey said, then left the office.
Back home in Brooklyn, Lindsey finished putting the last of her clothes into her suitcase. She crammed four days’ worth of sightseeing outfits, including shoes, into one small suitcase. Just before she zipped up the bag, she paused and thought about what Maggie had said. Throw in something sexy.
She went back into her closet and pulled out a little black dress that she’d last worn to the POV launch party years ago. She’d purchased the classic designer dress with the first order of the magazine. She’d been wary about spending that much money before the magazine had launched, but now she half-believed that the dress had brought her luck. She could at least take along a little luck. She’d need it to get through saying goodbye to Alexa for so long without a bunch of tears. As she folded up the dress, something in the back of her closet caught her eye.
She reached inside and pulled out a painting of a beautiful Paris scene. It was the last full painting she’d done when she was abroad. It had always hung in her apartment, but when she’d moved to her loft in Brooklyn three years ago, she’d placed it in the back of the closet. She’d held on to the painting as a reminder that there was a time and a place when life was simple and full of love. Now that she was approaching forty, and the magazine had grown, and she’d been able to purchase her own home, she felt like life was good. She didn’t need a reminder of her younger years anymore. But holding that painting in her hands brought back a flood of memories.
What had happened to Jack? She’d never bothered to ask her mentor, Hugo, because he would’ve tracked Jack down and demanded answers. Even if Jack had a good explanation, the answers wouldn’t have changed a thing. The fact was, Jack never showed up. He’d made his choice clear. He didn’t want to spend his life with her. But now that she was going back to Paris, she couldn’t help but wonder where he’d ended up. Was he still there, or had his father taken him to another city to work on his latest hotel?
Lindsey picked up the painting and was about to put it back in the closet when a voice came from around the corner.
“Hi, Mom!”
Lindsey nearly dropped the painting as Alexa came bounding into her bedroom.
“You’re early!” Lindsey leaned the painting against the wall and gave her daughter a giant hug. Then she looked her over, wondering if she’d been eating right and getting enough sleep. She looked healthy and cheerful, her long brown hair pulled back from her face.
“I caught a ride from a guy at school,” Alexa said.
“What guy?” Lindsey asked with a sense of worry.
“I found him on the ride board in the dorm.” Alexa looked pleased with herself.
“You drove from Connecticut with a total stranger?” It seemed as if just yesterday Alexa was waiting for the bus to take her to kindergarten. Now she was driving home from college—with a stranger.
“I was with two other friends, Mom. It’s no big deal.”
“So all three of you rode with a total stranger,” Lindsey said, pointing out the obvious.
“Mom… you’re helicoptering again.”
Lindsey thought for a moment. “You’re right. Engine’s off.” Her daughter was about to live in Paris—she could handle herself. But still, she couldn’t help but worry.
“Hey, I remember that,” Alexa said as she picked up the painting. “It used to be in the hallway at our old place. It was one of my favorites growing up. You should put it up again.”
“We have better taste now,” Lindsey said as she took the painting and put it back in the closet behind a couple of umbrellas and some old coats.
Alexa reached for it again. “You know, that painting is one of the reasons I’m going to Paris now.”
Lindsey stopped her. “You’re going to the Sorbonne. That’s why you’re going. It’s an education and an experience that you can’t miss.”
“Yes, but I never would’ve known about the Sorbonne had I not asked you all those questions every time I passed that painting when I was little.”
Alexa had a point. Lindsey smiled at the memory. Her daughter had constantly wanted to hear more about her life as a painter, even if it was a small blip in the big scheme of things.
Lindsey pulled Alexa in for another hug. “You always were a curious one.”
“I was. So, tell me again, why did you stop painting?”
“I guess my fine arts degree taught me the fine art of unemployment,” Lindsey replied so quickly that even she believed it was true. Yes, there was truth to that statement, but there was so much more.
After that day on the bridge with Jack, she’d stopped painting. She hadn’t told anyone that at the time. Instead, she’d pretended that she was working on projects secretly. But it wasn’t true. Her plan was to start painting again in New York, but when he never came, she’d lost interest. Then it became easy to blame it on lack of time. She was newly married, and then had a baby, then needed money to support herself and Alexa. Although it had been her first love, painting had become the thing that evoked the most regret.
“Maybe you’ll start again,” Alexa said.
“It’s your turn now, kiddo,” Lindsey said in all honesty. Her time had passed. Now was Alexa’s time to experience the magic of youth. “You hungry?”
Alexa nodded and in unison, they said, “Pasta. Alfredo sauce. Extra cheese.” It was a ritual for the two of them. Whenever they wanted to connect or life seemed to get too serious, they always had Alfredo pasta.
Lindsey missed having her baby at home. Yes,
