sparkle in Patience’s eyes said otherwise, but Piper kept the thought to herself. Patience would admit the truth soon enough.
The two of them talked and joked while Piper worked and for a little while, her loneliness receded.
“Why aren’t you making some fancy French dish?” Patience asked as she was putting the casserole in the oven.
“Because I felt like macaroni and cheese. Would you feel better if I called it macaroni au fromage?”
“A little.” From her chair on the other side of the world, her sister frowned again. “Are you sure you’re all right? You mentioned your boss earlier. Is he still treating you okay?”
Once again, a paper towel and a smile flashed before Piper’s eyes. “He’s treating me fine.”
“That sounded weird.”
“What do you mean?”
“The way you said ‘fine’ with a long sigh.”
Piper rolled her eyes. As if her sigh could be any longer or dreamier-sounding than the ones her sister made. “How should I say it? He treats me fine. We hardly see each other.” Today’s encounters notwithstanding. “Not everyone socializes with their boss, you know. I meant Ana,” she added quickly before Patience got the wrong idea.
“So long as he isn’t giving you a hard time.”
“I swear, he isn’t.”
They talked a little longer, mostly about silly stuff. Patience told a few stories about Nigel the cat and about how things were going with Stuart. Piper lied about how well school was going. By the time they said goodbye, she’d cooked and eaten her casserole. She would have said that the night was exactly what she needed, except that as soon as she turned off the computer, her melancholy returned stronger than ever.
“It’s Hollywood’s fault,” she said to the Eiffel Tower a little while later. “All those movies making Paris look so wonderful. Leading a woman to hope life might be more magical under French skies.”
There was a smudge on the glass. Breathing some fog on the pane, she wiped at it with her sleeve. Patience would be horrified by her casualness. Her sister took cleaning very seriously.
Maybe if she tried a little harder. Gave more effort in class, learned to appreciate her surroundings more. Maybe then she could work up the enthusiasm she was supposed to feel for this adventure. Right now, she only felt tired. The carbohydrates were kicking in. Merging with her sad mood and killing what was left of her cleaning ambitions.
Discarding her plans to dig out the cleaning supplies, she sank into a nearby chair. The same one she found Frederic sleeping in this morning, she realized. Outside, the tower twinkled mockingly. Leaning her head back, she watched the lights dance. They were beautiful, weren’t they?
“Easy chair to fall asleep in, no?”
The voice close to her ear was deep and rough. Piper jumped to her feet. Grabbing the first thing she could find, she whirled around ready to attack.
Frederic raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t...” Considering she was wielding a pillow as a weapon, she gave up the argument. “I wasn’t expecting you home so early, is all.” It was early, right? Please say it was early.
“My date wasn’t feeling well, so we left the concert at intermission.” His eyes narrowed, as if zooming in on her. Too late, Piper realized she still wore her chef’s jacket instead of her uniform. “You were working hard?”
“No. I mean, I planned to but I...”
“I am joking.”
“Oh.” Thank goodness the lights were dim and he couldn’t see how red her cheeks were.
“If I recall, I suggested you take the night off to relax. I’m glad you did.” He crossed to the window. Hands clasped behind his back, he stood looking out at the tower.
One of the things Piper had noticed while working for Frederic was the way he concentrated so intently on whatever he was doing. Walking. Looking out the window. Some of the focus she attributed to his bad eyes, but lousy vision didn’t explain the power behind his movements. He moved with such deliberation. As though nothing could deter him from the action at hand. The guy could give Chef Despelteau a run for his money when it came to laser glares, that’s for sure. She could only imagine what it was like to be one of his students.
Or one of his dates, for that matter.
All of a sudden she realized those slate-colored eyes were looking at her. He’d said something, and she missed it. Again, she thanked the dim lighting for protecting her from bigger embarrassment. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked if you were enjoying your year in Paris so far.”
You mean her crying jag earlier didn’t give him a clue? “It’s a beautiful city.”
“That it is. Have you done much sightseeing?”
“A little.” When she first arrived and was still in her starry-eyed phase. After a couple weeks, however, solo sightseeing lost its luster. “Between class and work, I haven’t had much time.”
“That is too bad. You should make sure you see as much as possible. You never know when you’ll have another chance.”
“I’ll try to remember that.” For some reason, Piper felt as though he was talking about more than sightseeing. Or maybe fatigue was making her read too deeply between the lines. For all she knew, this was his normal way of making conversation. He approached everything else with intensity; why wouldn’t he approach talking the same way?
Regardless of the reason, the exchange left a hum in the air that made her antsy. Piper couldn’t help thinking how crisp and elegant he looked in his summer suit. Meanwhile, she was growing more aware of her wrinkled jacket by the second. Not to mention the smell of onion and cheddar cheese clinging to her fingers.
Suddenly, she needed some space. Setting down her pillow, she announced, “I’m going to finish cleaning the kitchen.” The kitchen was spotless, but she needed some kind of excuse. Then, whether because of the thickened atmosphere or something else, she added, “I’m really sorry, too, about my meltdown earlier.”
“Already forgotten, Piper. I hope whatever caused your distress is gone by tomorrow.”
“I hope so, too.” Not very likely, but a girl could hope. She went to say good-night, but Frederic had already turned his back to the room, his attention once again on the scene outside his window.
Must have been a trick of the shadows. Standing there with his hands behind his back, he suddenly looked alone and far away. Maybe I’m not the only lonely person in Paris. The thought was in her head before Piper could stop it.
Frederic Lafontaine, lonely. Sure. Now she knew she was tired.
THE
