Read Online The Little Bookshop On the Seine by Rebecca Raisin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rebecca Raisin
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groaned underfoot as I rushed down into the maze of the bookstore. I couldn’t wait to stumble around the nooks and crannies, and find some joy between the pages. The shop was layered with dark wooden shelves, which curved and bowed with the weight of books. There were lots of little hidey holes, and I knew I’d find some treasures in amongst the disorderly piles. “Bonjour!” a sultry French voice greeted me as I made my way through the laneways.
When I stepped into the main room, the open lower level, a girl with cropped blonde hair and china blue eyes greeted me, giving me a gentle handshake. Her nails were manicured pale pink, and a spectacular diamond ring glinted under the lights. “
Desole
, I heard all about the theft! I wish I’d been here to welcome you as promised. This is my fault. Beatrice should have warned you not to leave anything personal lying around. It only takes a second for things to disappear, as I guess you found out.” She gave me a quick hug. “I’m Oceane. Do you need to borrow clothes? Money?”
She wore a tight knitted cobalt blue dress, and a cashmere cardigan. Her clothes screamed designer label, in a chic, classic French way. Compared to me, her outfit was downright glamorous, and I rued the fact I was wearing the same travel-wrinkled jeans and sweater.
“Thanks for the offer, but it’s OK. I had some money in my jacket which was thankfully left on the floor, and I’ll make do with these clothes, or maybe borrow some of Sophie’s until the insurance is paid.” What if I spilled coffee down the front of one of her elegant outfits? Sophie’s were just as elegant too. I cringed a little, picturing myself wearing something so form-fitting, and French, worried it would look like I was trying too hard to fit in. Oceane even walked differently, with an upright posture, poised as if she inhabited the space around her better than most.
She crossed her arms, and pulled a face as though she was annoyed at herself. “I feel responsible, I told Sophie I’d meet you and show you around. Why don’t I treat you to a shopping trip later? Then I can show you where to do the banking, and where the post office is, so we can tie that in with a wander down the Champs-Elysees?”
After the disaster that was day one, Oceane’s warmth was a godsend. “There’s no need to do that,” I protested. From my research I knew the boutiques along the Champs-Elysees were expensive, and I wouldn’t let Oceane treat me because she felt guilty. The blame lay squarely at my feet.
She smiled. “Well perhaps we’ll window shop until you’re ready.”
“Maybe,” I said, laughing, relieved that she was open and friendly.
Outside the sun was splintering the sky, the river lapped swiftly in the distance. After my shift I’d wander by the Seine and hunt out a patisserie or two. Or maybe take a book, and people-watch from one of the cafés along the avenue.
“Aside from the stolen bags, how was your first day in Paris?”
“Busy,” I said, remembering the chaos of the previous day.
“It’s always like that,” she said, with a small laugh. “It takes a while to get used to the noise, and the tourists. I’m supposed to show you the office. It’s where you’ll do the paperwork, the wages, and all of those complex things that make my head throb.”
My stomach knotted. Sophie had bombarded me with emails about the paperwork side of things
after
I’d agreed to the bookshop exchange. She wanted weekly updates about the sales, and monthly profit and loss statements done. Besides all of that, there was the book ordering, the staff wages to do, and a stock take of the store at the end of December. Plus, I was responsible for her online shop and posting whatever orders came from that. How on earth I could do all of it, and work in the shop during the day still concerned me.
I wasn’t as mathematically inclined as her, but Sophie was very clear about increasing the sales, and keeping a close eye on
When I stepped into the main room, the open lower level, a girl with cropped blonde hair and china blue eyes greeted me, giving me a gentle handshake. Her nails were manicured pale pink, and a spectacular diamond ring glinted under the lights. “
Desole
, I heard all about the theft! I wish I’d been here to welcome you as promised. This is my fault. Beatrice should have warned you not to leave anything personal lying around. It only takes a second for things to disappear, as I guess you found out.” She gave me a quick hug. “I’m Oceane. Do you need to borrow clothes? Money?”
She wore a tight knitted cobalt blue dress, and a cashmere cardigan. Her clothes screamed designer label, in a chic, classic French way. Compared to me, her outfit was downright glamorous, and I rued the fact I was wearing the same travel-wrinkled jeans and sweater.
“Thanks for the offer, but it’s OK. I had some money in my jacket which was thankfully left on the floor, and I’ll make do with these clothes, or maybe borrow some of Sophie’s until the insurance is paid.” What if I spilled coffee down the front of one of her elegant outfits? Sophie’s were just as elegant too. I cringed a little, picturing myself wearing something so form-fitting, and French, worried it would look like I was trying too hard to fit in. Oceane even walked differently, with an upright posture, poised as if she inhabited the space around her better than most.
She crossed her arms, and pulled a face as though she was annoyed at herself. “I feel responsible, I told Sophie I’d meet you and show you around. Why don’t I treat you to a shopping trip later? Then I can show you where to do the banking, and where the post office is, so we can tie that in with a wander down the Champs-Elysees?”
After the disaster that was day one, Oceane’s warmth was a godsend. “There’s no need to do that,” I protested. From my research I knew the boutiques along the Champs-Elysees were expensive, and I wouldn’t let Oceane treat me because she felt guilty. The blame lay squarely at my feet.
She smiled. “Well perhaps we’ll window shop until you’re ready.”
“Maybe,” I said, laughing, relieved that she was open and friendly.
Outside the sun was splintering the sky, the river lapped swiftly in the distance. After my shift I’d wander by the Seine and hunt out a patisserie or two. Or maybe take a book, and people-watch from one of the cafés along the avenue.
“Aside from the stolen bags, how was your first day in Paris?”
“Busy,” I said, remembering the chaos of the previous day.
“It’s always like that,” she said, with a small laugh. “It takes a while to get used to the noise, and the tourists. I’m supposed to show you the office. It’s where you’ll do the paperwork, the wages, and all of those complex things that make my head throb.”
My stomach knotted. Sophie had bombarded me with emails about the paperwork side of things
after
I’d agreed to the bookshop exchange. She wanted weekly updates about the sales, and monthly profit and loss statements done. Besides all of that, there was the book ordering, the staff wages to do, and a stock take of the store at the end of December. Plus, I was responsible for her online shop and posting whatever orders came from that. How on earth I could do all of it, and work in the shop during the day still concerned me.
I wasn’t as mathematically inclined as her, but Sophie was very clear about increasing the sales, and keeping a close eye on
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