She knew now, as her own twilight closed in around her, that she was very wrong to have tried so hard to forget, for it was the key to who she was. But it was too late. She had left everything behind in that terrible, beautiful past. And there it would forever remain.
Chapter Eleven
As I drive home in silence that night, my mind is spinning. I’m going to Paris.
At the traffic light on Main, I pull out my cell phone and, before I can stop myself, dial Gavin’s cell number.
I let it ring once before I realize how foolish I’m being. I quickly hit End. Why would Gavin care that I’m going to Paris? He’s been helpful, but I’m being presumptuous in assuming that my plans matter to him at all.
The light turns green, and as I put my foot on the gas, my phone rings, startling me. I look at the caller ID and can feel my cheeks heating up as I realize it says Gavin Keyes.
“Um, hello?” I answer tentatively.
“Hope?” His voice is deep and warm, and I’m annoyed at myself for feeling instantly comforted.
“Um, yeah, hi,” I say.
“Did you just call?”
“It was nothing.” I can feel my cheeks grow even hotter. “I don’t even know why I was calling,” I mumble.
He’s silent for a moment. “Did you go see your grandmother?”
“How did you know?”
“I didn’t.” He pauses and adds, “Are you going to Paris?”
“I think so,” I reply in a small voice.
“Good,” he says immediately, as if he was expecting me to say this. “Listen, if you need someone to help you keep the bakery open while you’re gone—”
I cut him off. “Gavin, that’s so kind, but there’s no way that would work.”
“Why not?”
“Well, for one thing, you’ve never run a bakery before, have you?”
“I’m a quick learner.”
I smile. “And besides, you have your own job.”
“It wouldn’t be a problem to take a few days off. If there are any emergencies, I can always take care of them after the bakery closes.”
I’m not accustomed to people caring, people helping me. It makes me uneasy, and I’m not sure how to reply. “Thanks,” I finally say. “But I could never ask you to do that.”
“Hope, you okay?” Gavin asks.
“I’m okay,” I tell him, but I’m pretty sure I’m lying.
A week later, wondering whether I’m mad to be doing such a thing, I board an Aer Lingus flight from Boston to Paris, via Dublin, the cheapest flight I could find on such short notice.
Annie was so thrilled that I’d decided to go that she didn’t even give me a hard time about her having to spend an extra few days at her father’s house. She’d asked to come along to Paris, of course, but she had seemed to understand when I’d told her that I could only afford one ticket.
“Besides, Mamie only asked you to go,” Annie had mumbled, looking at her feet.
“Because she needs you here with her,” I’d told my daughter.
I’d decided to leave on a Saturday night so that I’d only have to close the bakery a total of three days; we’re closed every Monday anyhow. Still, it feels like an eternity to be gone, especially with the financial storm brewing. I don’t know if and when the investors are coming to check out the bakery, because I haven’t talked to Matt since I turned down his offer to loan me money. I know he was hurt, but I can’t deal with that now. It’s possible I’m making a huge mistake, but I know I couldn’t refuse this trip.
We have two orders to fill while I’m gone—both regular weekly orders for two hotels by the beach—and I’d reluctantly accepted Gavin’s offer to drive Annie to deliver the muffins, which I’d baked in advance and frozen. She would need to defrost them before school on Monday morning, and after school, Gavin would take her to complete the deliveries and then drop her at Rob’s house.
Eleven hours after taking off from Boston and connecting through Dublin, I watch from the window as we break through the blanket of clouds covering the Paris sky and descend over the city. I can’t make out any landmarks—I suppose I’ll see them from the ground soon enough—but I can see the sapphire ribbon of the Seine River snaking across the terrain, as well as alternating patches of green grass and fiery-hued trees stretching across the countryside beyond the urban area.
This was once Mamie’s home, I think as we come in for a landing. How strange it must have been to leave all of this behind, never to return.