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Authors: Rebecca Raisin
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strangled hiccough escaped me. TJ rubbed my back. This was the never-ending day from hell. It was impossible to believe it was still my first day in Paris. It had been interminable. Bag snatch, check. Heck, I hoped my mother wasn’t right. Was this a sign of things to come?
“Go upstairs,” he said. “Use Sophie’s phone. You’ll have to report it all missing, I guess. Not that you have any hope of it being returned.” His voice was soft with empathy.
I frowned. Bed was still out of reach. It was my own damn stupidity, I’d have to spend the next hour on the phone.
Way to go, Sarah.
With heavy legs, I stomped up the stairs fighting tears. Paris was supposed to be perfect. A magical, romantic city where I’d discover a whole new me. Maybe I wasn’t great at driving my own life outside of Ashford. I’d made a mess of things. Money, credit cards, passport – gone. That would make the coming weeks difficult when it came time to, you know, eat. And my suitcase, my precious books – gone. Clothing – gone. The only pair of shoes I’d have now were the borrowed clodhoppers on my feet, and the thought of lugging myself around on those all day in the store had me
and
my back at breaking point.
Why would I leave my bags right near the front door? I may as well have left a note on there saying
Steal me
! Back home we didn’t even lock our houses at nighttime, but I had to learn quick smart I wasn’t in Ashford any more.
Pushing open the door of Sophie’s apartment, I lifted a little. It was an elegant space, pretty and feminine and I knew I’d be comfortable. Grainy wooden floorboards were polished to a shine, a huge bed was made up with fresh white linen. A floor lamp lit the room from under its ruched vanilla shade. A bouquet of flowers scented the air sweet. Near the bed was a bookshelf that took up an entire wall; I was happy to note it was filled with romance books. I took in their titles, and anticipated making my way through them. Instead of diving into bed with a dusty well-read romance, I grabbed the phone and tried to sort out who I needed to call. My eyes were hanging out of my head by the time I hung up and fell into a deep sleep.
Chapter Five
The next morning, I woke groggily, forcing myself awake, fighting the need for a few more hours’ shut eye. My head spun like I was hungover from lack of rest. After a quick shower I pulled on the same wrinkled clothes I’d travelled in.
My travel insurance would replace the cost of my luggage, but it would take a couple of weeks for them to courier travelers’ checks, at the earliest.
At the earliest?
I’d cried. Another travel fail; read the fine print.
I’d contacted the American embassy about my missing passport, and scheduled an appointment. I remembered what the elderly man on the street said, embrace the drama, so I tried to think of it all as part of the journey, and not that I was a hopeless, hapless tourist.
The bookshop was due to open, and there was no time to call Ridge or the girls – with the scattered time differences, I was sure they’d be asleep. What could I say anyway…
Hey, it’s Sarah. In the first five minutes of my trip I’ve managed to lose everything you’re supposed to lock away safe! You’d be so proud! I haven’t been mugged, but the day is young! Au revoir!
Time to switch on and become bookseller Sarah. That persona, I knew well.
With a liberal spray of Sophie’s jasmine perfume, I headed downstairs, ready for another day. I was determined that I would handle things better, now that I’d had some sleep and I knew how hectic the shop floor was. Beatrice could show me the ropes, and hopefully a few more staff might materialize. There was something a little off about Beatrice, but she’d been under a huge amount of pressure in the busy shop. The back and forth with her and TJ might have been just the way they bantered. Who knew what friendships were like out of Ashford and beyond the pages of my books?
The stairs
“Go upstairs,” he said. “Use Sophie’s phone. You’ll have to report it all missing, I guess. Not that you have any hope of it being returned.” His voice was soft with empathy.
I frowned. Bed was still out of reach. It was my own damn stupidity, I’d have to spend the next hour on the phone.
Way to go, Sarah.
With heavy legs, I stomped up the stairs fighting tears. Paris was supposed to be perfect. A magical, romantic city where I’d discover a whole new me. Maybe I wasn’t great at driving my own life outside of Ashford. I’d made a mess of things. Money, credit cards, passport – gone. That would make the coming weeks difficult when it came time to, you know, eat. And my suitcase, my precious books – gone. Clothing – gone. The only pair of shoes I’d have now were the borrowed clodhoppers on my feet, and the thought of lugging myself around on those all day in the store had me
and
my back at breaking point.
Why would I leave my bags right near the front door? I may as well have left a note on there saying
Steal me
! Back home we didn’t even lock our houses at nighttime, but I had to learn quick smart I wasn’t in Ashford any more.
Pushing open the door of Sophie’s apartment, I lifted a little. It was an elegant space, pretty and feminine and I knew I’d be comfortable. Grainy wooden floorboards were polished to a shine, a huge bed was made up with fresh white linen. A floor lamp lit the room from under its ruched vanilla shade. A bouquet of flowers scented the air sweet. Near the bed was a bookshelf that took up an entire wall; I was happy to note it was filled with romance books. I took in their titles, and anticipated making my way through them. Instead of diving into bed with a dusty well-read romance, I grabbed the phone and tried to sort out who I needed to call. My eyes were hanging out of my head by the time I hung up and fell into a deep sleep.
Chapter Five
The next morning, I woke groggily, forcing myself awake, fighting the need for a few more hours’ shut eye. My head spun like I was hungover from lack of rest. After a quick shower I pulled on the same wrinkled clothes I’d travelled in.
My travel insurance would replace the cost of my luggage, but it would take a couple of weeks for them to courier travelers’ checks, at the earliest.
At the earliest?
I’d cried. Another travel fail; read the fine print.
I’d contacted the American embassy about my missing passport, and scheduled an appointment. I remembered what the elderly man on the street said, embrace the drama, so I tried to think of it all as part of the journey, and not that I was a hopeless, hapless tourist.
The bookshop was due to open, and there was no time to call Ridge or the girls – with the scattered time differences, I was sure they’d be asleep. What could I say anyway…
Hey, it’s Sarah. In the first five minutes of my trip I’ve managed to lose everything you’re supposed to lock away safe! You’d be so proud! I haven’t been mugged, but the day is young! Au revoir!
Time to switch on and become bookseller Sarah. That persona, I knew well.
With a liberal spray of Sophie’s jasmine perfume, I headed downstairs, ready for another day. I was determined that I would handle things better, now that I’d had some sleep and I knew how hectic the shop floor was. Beatrice could show me the ropes, and hopefully a few more staff might materialize. There was something a little off about Beatrice, but she’d been under a huge amount of pressure in the busy shop. The back and forth with her and TJ might have been just the way they bantered. Who knew what friendships were like out of Ashford and beyond the pages of my books?
The stairs
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