Sarah's fabulous publisher that makes the world go round, Harlequin is sponsoring a giveaway, details below.
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ISBN-13:9781335507549
Publisher: Harlequin
Release Date: 4-9-2019
Length: 384 pp
Source: Publisher/Netgalley for review
Buy It: Amazon/B&N/Kobo/IndieBound/Audible
Publisher: Harlequin
Release Date: 4-9-2019
Length: 384 pp
Source: Publisher/Netgalley for review
Buy It: Amazon/B&N/Kobo/IndieBound/Audible
Overview:
“Morgan is a masterful storyteller... For fans of Jojo Moyes, Taylor Jenkins Reid, and Stacey Ballis”
-Booklist Review on One Summer in Paris
USA TODAY bestselling author Sarah Morgan returns with this heartwarming novel about the power of friendship, love and what happens when an ending is just the beginning…
To celebrate their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, Grace has planned the surprise of a lifetime for her husband—a romantic getaway to Paris. But she never expected he’d have a surprise of his own: he wants a divorce. Reeling from the shock but refusing to be broken, a devastated Grace makes the bold decision to go to Paris alone.
Audrey, a young woman from London, has left behind a heartache of her own when she arrives in Paris. A job in a bookshop is her ticket to freedom, but with no money and no knowledge of the French language, suddenly a summer spent wandering the cobbled streets alone seems much more likely…until she meets Grace, and everything changes.
Grace can’t believe how daring Audrey is. Audrey can’t believe how cautious newly single Grace is. Living in neighboring apartments above the bookshop, this unlikely pair offer each other just what they’ve both been missing. They came to Paris to find themselves, but finding this unbreakable friendship might be the best thing that’s ever happened to them…
Giveaway is for one print copy of
ONE SUMMER IN PARIS US & Canada Only
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Read an excerpt:
“The real voyage of discovery
consists
not in seeking new landscapes,
but in having new eyes.”
not in seeking new landscapes,
but in having new eyes.”
Marcel Proust
Grace
Grace Porter woke on Valentine’s Day, happily
married and blissfully unaware that was about to change.
Downstairs in the
kitchen she added slices of cheese to the bread she’d baked fresh the day
before, put fruit and raw vegetables into lunch boxes and then checked her
list.
Number four on
today’s list: remind Sophie about dinner.
She glanced up.
“Don’t forget Dad and I are out tonight. Your dinner is in the fridge.”
Her daughter, Sophie,
was messaging a friend. “Mmm...”
“Sophie!”
“I know! No
phones at the table—but this is urgent. Amy and I are writing a letter to
the paper about that development they’re going to build on the edge of town.
Dad promised he’d publish it. Can you believe they want to close the dog
shelter? Those dogs are going to die if someone doesn’t do
something, and that someone is me. There. Done.” Sophie finally
looked up. “Mom, I can make my own lunch.”
“Would you include
fresh fruit and veg?”
“No. Which is
why I’d rather make my own.” Sophie gave a smile that didn’t just light her up,
it lit Grace up, too. “And you’re starting to sound like Monica, which is a
little scary.”
Her daughter was
like sunshine. She made the world a brighter place. For years Grace had been
braced for her to rebel, take drugs, or roll in drunk after an illicit party
with friends, but it hadn’t happened. It seemed that Sophie’s genetic makeup
favored David’s side of the family, which was a relief. If Sophie had an
addiction it was causes. She hated injustice, inequality and anything she
deemed unfair—particularly when it related to animals. She was the champion of
all dogs, especially the underdog.
Grace was quick to defend her friend. “Monica is a wonderful
mother.”
“Maybe, but I can tell you that the first thing Chrissie is going
to do when we get to Europe this summer is feast on a ton of fries to make up
for all the years her mom wouldn’t let her touch them.” Sophie finished her
oatmeal. “Did you say something about dinner?”
“Have you forgotten what day it is?” Grace closed the lunch boxes
and put one next to Sophie. The other she slid into her own bag.
“Valentine’s Day.” Sophie slid off her chair and picked up her
empty bowl. “The day it becomes public knowledge that nobody loves me.”
“Dad and I
love you.”
“No offense,
but you’re not young, cool and athletic.”
Grace took a mouthful of coffee. How much should she say? “It’s
still Sam?”
Sophie’s smile faded as if someone had hit the dimmer switch.
“He’s seeing Callie. They walk around together holding hands. She keeps giving
me these smug smiles. I’ve known Callie since I was three, so I don’t
understand why she’s doing this. I mean, date him, sure. That sucks, but it’s
life. But it’s like she’s trying to hurt me.”
Grace felt a burning in her chest. Not heartburn, but parenthood.
As a mother, her role was to support from the sidelines. It was like being
forced to watch a really bad play without the consolation of knowing you could
leave in the interval.
“I’m sorry, honey.”
“Don’t be.” Sophie put her bowl in the dishwasher and then added
the one her father had left on the side. “It would never have worked out.
Sophie and Sam sounds pretty lame, don’t you think?”
Her hurt slid into Grace and settled deep in her gut.
“You’re going to college soon. After a month in California you
won’t even remember Sam exists. You have your whole life ahead of you, and all
the time in the world to meet someone special.”
“I’m going to study, graduate top of my class and go to law school
where I can learn how to sue people who are assho—”
“Sophie!”
“Er...not very
nice people.” Sophie grinned, slung her backpack over one shoulder and stroked
her long ponytail over the other. “Don’t worry, Mom. Boys drive me insane. I
don’t want a relationship.”
That will change, Grace thought.
“Have a great day, Mom, and happy anniversary. Twenty-five years
of not yelling at Dad when he leaves his socks on the floor and his dirty plate
on top of the dishwasher. Major achievement. Are you seeing Mimi today?”
“This afternoon.” Grace slid her laptop into her bag. “I made
macarons, like the ones she used to buy in Paris. You know what a sweet tooth
your great-grandmother has.”
“Because she lived in Paris during the war and she had no food.
Sometimes she was too weak to dance. Can you even imagine that?”
“That’s probably why she talks to you about it. She doesn’t want
you to take things for granted.” She opened the box she’d carefully packed that
morning, revealing pastel macarons lined up in neat rows of rainbow perfection.
Sophie made a sound that was almost a purr. “Wow. I don’t suppose
I could...?”
“No.” Grace
closed the box. “But I might have packed a couple for your lunch.” She tried
not to think about the sugar, or how Monica would react to the inclusion of empty
calories in a lunch box.
“You’re the
best, Mom.” Sophie kissed her cheek and Grace felt warmth flood through her.
“Do you need a favor or something?”
“Don’t be cynical.” Sophie grabbed her coat. “Not many people
would teach French at an assisted-living center, that’s all. I think you’re
amazing.”
Grace felt like a fraud. She didn’t do it out of any sense of
charity, but because she liked the people. They were always so pleased to see
her. They made her feel valued.
It was embarrassing to think she could still be needy at her age.
“Their French Club is the best part of my week. Today being
Valentine’s Day, I’ve allowed myself to be creative.” She picked up the stack
of menus she’d designed. “The staff are laying the tables in the restaurant
with red-and-white tablecloths. We’re eating French food, I’m playing music...
Knowing your great-grandmother, there will be dancing. What do you think?”
“Ooh là là, I think it sounds great.” Sophie grinned. “Just
remember that the average age of Mimi’s friends is ninety. Don’t give them all
heart attacks.”
“I’m pretty sure Robert has his eye on Mimi.”
“Mimi is a
minx. I hope I’m like her when I’m ninety. She has this wicked twinkle in her
eye... It must have been fun having her living with you when you were growing
up.”
It had been
lifesaving. And that, of course, was why Mimi had moved in.
It was a time she’d never discussed with her daughter. “She’s one
in a million. You’ll be okay tonight?” She checked the kitchen was tidy.
“There’s casserole in the fridge. All you need to do is heat it up.”
“I’m eighteen, Mom. You don’t have to worry about me.” Sophie
glanced out the window as a car pulled up outside. “Karen is here. I need to
run. Bye.”
Telling Grace not to worry was like asking a fish not to swim.
Two minutes after Sophie had left, she slid on her coat, picked up
her keys and walked to the car.
Turning the heat up, she focused on the drive.
Four mornings a week, Grace taught French and Spanish at the local
middle school. She also tutored children who were struggling and occasionally
gave lessons to adults keen to improve their language skills.
She took the same route she always took, seeing the same houses,
the same trees, the same stores. Her view only changed when the seasons
changed. Grace didn’t mind. She savored routine and pre
dictability.
She found comfort and security in knowing what was going to happen next.
Today the snow
lay deep on the ground, coating roofs and gardens in thick slabs of white. In
this little corner of Connecticut the snow was likely to linger for many weeks.
Some people embraced it. Grace wasn’t one of them. By March, winter felt like a
guest who had outstayed her welcome. She longed for sunshine and summer
dresses, bare legs and iced drinks.
She was still dreaming of summer when the phone rang.
It was David.
“Hi, Gracie.” That voice of his still made her insides melt. Deep
and gravelly, but smooth enough to soothe life’s hurts.
“Hi, handsome. You had an early start today.” And you left
your breakfast plate on top of the dishwasher.
“Things are busy at work.”
David was editor of the local newspaper, the Woodbrook
Post, and had been kept busy lately thanks to the astonishing success of
the girls’ tennis team, the formation of a county children’s choir and a
robbery at the local gas station during which the only things stolen were a box
of doughnuts and a bottle of rum. By the time the local police had located the
man responsible, the evidence had been consumed.
Whenever Grace
read the paper it reminded her of all the reasons she lived in this quaint town
with a population of only 2,498.
Unlike other
journalists, whose sights might have been set on bigger targets, David had
never shown a desire to work anywhere but this small town they’d both fallen in
love with.
The way he saw it, he was the voice of the community. He was
obsessed with the news, but he also believed that it was what happened right
here in their hometown that mattered to people. He often joked that all he
needed to fill the entire newspaper was to spend an afternoon at a backyard
barbecue listening to the gossip. He was friends with the police chief and the
fire chief, which ensured that he was given all the major scoops.
Of course in Woodbrook, a place most people had never heard of,
there were more scoops in the ice cream parlor than there were in the local
community, and that suited Grace.
“Happy Valentine’s and happy anniversary.” She slowed as she
approached an intersection. “I’m already looking forward to dinner tonight.”
“Shall I book somewhere?”
Only a man would think it possible to get a table on Valentine’s
Day without forward planning. “Already done, honey.”
“Right. I should be home early. I’ll fix something for Sophie to
eat so you don’t have to bother.”
“I’ve handled
that. The fridge is full of food. You can relax.”
There was a
pause. “You’re superwoman, Grace.”
She glowed. “I love you.”
Her family was the most important thing in the world to her.
“I’ll drop by the store and pick out something for Stephen’s
birthday on my way home. He says he doesn’t want a fuss, but I feel we should
buy him something, don’t you?”
“I do—which is why I bought him a gift when I was shopping last
week.” Grace waited for a gap in the traffic and turned into the school.
“You’ll find it under the bed in the spare room.”
“You’ve already bought something?”
“I didn’t want you having to think about it. Remember that great
photo of Stephen with Beth and the kids?”
“The one I took at the Summer Fair?”
She pulled into a space and undid her seat belt. “I had a print
made and bought a frame. It looks great.”
“That’s...thoughtful...”
“I’ve wrapped it. All you have to do is sign your name.” She
reached across and gathered her coat and bag. “I’m at school, so I’ll call you
later. You sound tired. Are you tired?”
“A little.”
She paused with one leg out of the car. “You’ve been working long
hours lately. You need to slow down. There’s nothing for you
to do at home,
so maybe you should lie down and rest before we go out.”
“I’m not
geriatric, Grace.”
There was a sharpness to his tone that was unusual.
“I was trying to spoil you, that’s all.”
“Sorry.” The sharpness vanished. “Didn’t mean to snap. There’s
been a lot going on lately. I’ll call a cab for tonight, so we can have a drink
without worrying about driving.”
“Cab is already booked for seven.”
“Do you ever forget anything?”
“It’s all down to lists—you know that. If I lose my lists, my life
is over.”
It occurred to her that if she died someone would be able to pick
up her “To Do” lists and carry on with her life as if she’d never inhabited it.
What did that say about her? A life should be individual, surely?
Would someone looking at the lists be able to learn anything about her?
Would they know that she loved the smell of roses and indulged her love of
French movies when no one was home? Would they know she listened to Mozart
piano concertos while she cooked?
“Is there anything you need me for?”
Grace gave a smile
that her daughter would have said was very like Mimi’s minxy look. “I can think
of a few things... I plan on showing you later.”
David ended the call
and she walked into school, waving at a couple of parents who were delivering
their precious cargo.
Twenty-five years.
She’d been married for twenty-five years.
She felt a glow of
pride.
Take
that, universe.
She and David were a
perfect team. They’d had their ups and downs like any couple, but they’d
handled everything together. Grace had become the person she wanted to be, and
if a tiny voice occasionally reminded her that underneath she was someone quite
different, she ignored it. She had the marriage she wanted. The life she
wanted.
The day deserved a
special celebration, and she’d made a reservation for dinner at Bistro Claude,
the upmarket French restaurant in the next town. Claude himself was from Texas,
but he’d seen a gap in the market, cultivated an accent and modeled his
restaurant on something he’d once seen in a French movie.
Even Grace, a purist
and Francophile, had to admit the place was charming. She would have loved to
take Mimi there, but her grandmother no longer enjoyed eating out.
Bistro Claude
was the perfect setting for tonight, because Grace had planned a big surprise.
Organizing it had been a major undertaking, but she’d been careful to leave no
clues or hints.
Fortunately
David had worked long hours over the past couple of months, or it would have
been impossible to keep her research a secret.
She pushed open the doors and headed into school.
The children in her class were at that age where anything to do
with sex or romance was treated as either hilarious or awkward, so she was
fairly sure Valentine’s Day would evoke plenty of giggles.
She wasn’t wrong.
“We’ve written you a poem, miss, to celebrate your anniversary.”
“A poem? Lucky me.” Grace hoped they’d give her the PG version.
“Who’s going to read it?”
Darren clambered onto his chair and cleared his throat.
“Twenty-five years, that’s a very long time. More than you get for a life of
crime.”
Grace wasn’t sure whether to laugh or put her head in her hands.
By the time she headed back to the parking lot at lunchtime she
felt exhausted, and relieved she only worked mornings. Fortunately the drive to
the assisted-living center where her grandmother lived would give her time to
decompress.
It was a
scenic route that wound through woodland and sleepy villages. In the fall the
road was clogged with tourists admiring the sunset colors of the foliage, but
now the trees and the rolling hills were coated in snow. The road followed the
curve of the river, which had a tendency to flood as the snow melted.
Grace drove
past the wildlife sanctuary, turned right into the road that led to Rushing
River Senior Living and parked the car.
When Mimi had first announced her decision to move here Grace had
been horrified.
As well as having a love of dance and all things hedonistic, her
grandmother was a celebrated photographer. She’d traveled the world with her
camera at a time when it had been rare for a single woman to do such a thing.
She was famous for her photographs of postwar Paris, and Grace had always
marveled at how her grandmother could capture people’s personal struggles in a
single frame. Mimi’s vivid, exuberant personality was at odds with her dark,
atmospheric photos of streets drenched by rain, or couples clinging together in
a desperate embrace. The photographs told a story that her grandmother rarely
shared in words. Of hunger and deprivation. Of fear and loss.
The last thing Grace had anticipated was that her well-traveled,
worldly grandmother would choose to move somewhere like Rushing River. She’d
tried to persuade her otherwise. If Mimi had
reached the
age when she could no longer manage alone, then she should live with Grace and
David.
Mimi had insisted
that she enjoyed her independence far too much to live with other people—even
her beloved granddaughter. She’d gone ahead and paid the money without giving
Grace any say in it.
That had been five years ago, but it had taken only a couple of
visits for Grace to understand why her grandmother had chosen the place.
It was a haven. On busy days, Grace fantasized about living there,
too. There was a fitness center, including a pool, a spa and salon facilities,
which Mimi loved. But the best thing was the people. They were interesting,
friendly and, thanks to excellent management, the place felt like a community.
Her grandmother lived in a two-bedroom garden cottage, with views
across the lawns down to the river. In the summer, with the doors and windows
open, you could hear the sound of the water. Mimi had turned one of the
bedrooms into a darkroom, where she still developed her own photographs. The
other room, her bedroom, looked like a dancer’s dressing room, complete with a
mirrored wall and a barre that her grandmother used for stretches.
The front door opened before Grace had lifted her hand to the
buzzer
“What do you
think? Je suis magnifique, non?” Her grandmother did a twirl and
then immediately reached out to steady herself. “Oops!”
“Careful!” Grace grabbed
her hand. “Maybe it’s time to stop dancing. You might lose your balance.”
“If I’m going to
fall, I’d rather do it while I’m dancing. Unless I fall out of bed having sex.
That would also be acceptable—although unlikely, unless the men around here get
their act together.”
Grace laughed and put
her bags down. She loved the mischievous look in her grandmother’s eyes. “Don’t
ever change.”
“I’m too old to
change—and why would I want to? Being yourself is the one thing every person
should excel at.” Mimi smoothed her dress. “So, what do you think?”
“Is that the dress
you wore when you were in the ballet in Paris?”
She’d seen photos of
that time. Her grandmother, impossibly delicate, standing en pointe with
her hair swept up. According to Mimi half of Paris had been in love with her,
and Grace had no trouble believing it.
“I didn’t know you
still had it.”
“I don’t. This is a
copy. Mirabelle made it for me. She has such a talent. Of course I was younger
then and my legs weren’t as scrawny as they are now, so she made it longer.”
“I think you
look incredible.” Grace leaned down and kissed her grandmother’s cheek. “I have
everything ready for French Club. I need to go and help the staff set up, but I
wanted to give you this first.” She handed over the macaron box, which she’d
tied with a beautiful bow. “I made them.”
“A gift you
make yourself is the best gift of all.” Mimi slid her fingers over the silk
ribbon. “I had a pair of ballet shoes with ribbon exactly this color.” She
opened the box with an enthusiasm that ninety years on the planet hadn’t
dimmed. “They look exactly like the ones I used to buy in Paris. They were
there in the shop window like jewels. I remember a man once sneaking out of my
apartment early in the morning to buy me a box for breakfast—we ate them in
bed.”
Grace loved hearing about her grandmother’s colorful past. “What
was his name?”
Could Mimi be talking about the man who had made her pregnant?
Grace had tried on numerous occasions to persuade her grandmother
to talk about the mysterious man who was her grandfather, but she never
would. It was a fling, was all she would say.
As usual, her grandmother was vague. “I don’t remember his name. I
only remember the macarons.”
“You’re a
wicked woman, Mimi.” Grace took the box from her and closed it. It felt odd to
not know anything about her grandfather. Was he even still alive?
“Since when
has it been wicked to enjoy oneself? And why are you closing the box? I was
about to eat one.”
“You’ll have plenty to eat in French Club. There are more where
these came from.”
“I like to enjoy the moment.” Mimi opened the box again and helped
herself. She took a delicate bite and closed her eyes. “If you focus on living
well in the moment, you will never have regrets about yesterday.”
Grace wondered if she was thinking of Paris, or of the man who had
brought her macarons in bed. She knew her grandmother had stories she hadn’t
shared, and that there were times she didn’t like to think about. Grace
understood that. There were times she didn’t like to think about, either.
“Good?”
“Excellent.” Mimi opened her eyes and reached for her coat and a
silk scarf. Today’s choice was peacock blue. “How is Sophie?”
“Enraged about the plans to close the animal shelter. She’s
writing letters and calling anyone who will pick up the phone.”
“I admire a person who is prepared to stand up and fight for a
cause they believe in. Even more so when that person is my great-
granddaughter.
You should be proud, Grace.”
“I am
proud—although I’m not sure the way she is has much to do with me. She has
David’s genes.”
Mimi read her mind. “Relax. She has nothing of your mother in
her.” She tucked her arm into Grace’s as they stepped out of the apartment onto
the covered walkway that led to the main house. “When is Sophie coming to see
me?”
“On the weekend.”
“And David?” Mimi’s expression softened. “He popped in yesterday
and fixed the broken handle on my door. That man is perfect. He has time for
everyone. And did I mention that he gets more handsome by the day? That smile.”
“I know.” She’d fallen in love with David’s smile. “I’m lucky.”
Mimi stopped walking. “No, honey. He’s the one
who is lucky. You went through so much and yet you have a family like
this—well, I’m proud of you. You’re the glue, Grace. And you’re an excellent
mother.”
Her grandmother was her biggest supporter. Grace hugged her in
full view of anyone who happened to be watching. It was only when she held her
grandmother that she was aware of her frailty. It scared her. She couldn’t
imagine a life without Mimi.
“I love you.”
“Of course you do.
I’m the buttercream frosting on the stale cake that is life.”
Grace let her go.
“Twenty-five years today. Had you forgotten?”
“I have creaking
bones and varicose veins, but my memory is fine. I know what day it is. Your
anniversary! I am happy for you. Every woman should love deeply at least once
in her lifetime.”
“You didn’t.
Were you never tempted to get married? Not even when you discovered you were
pregnant?”
Mimi flipped the
scarf around her neck and slid her arm through Grace’s. “I wasn’t the marrying
kind. You, however, always were. I hope you’re wearing your sexiest underwear
to celebrate.”
“I refuse to discuss
my underwear with you, but I can tell you that I’ve booked
dinner. And that’s when I’m giving him his gift.”
“I’m envious. A whole
month in Paris. Sunlight on cobbled streets, and the gardens... Paris has a
special atmosphere—do you remember that? It slides under your skin and
permeates the air you breathe...”
Mimi seemed to be
talking to herself and Grace smiled.
“I remember—but I
have only been once, and just for a short visit. You were born there. You lived
there.”
“I did. And I really
did live.” Mimi was never so animated as when she talked about Paris.
“I remember one night we stripped off our clothes and—”
“Mimi!” Grace
paused at the door to the dining room. “You’re about to appear in public. Don’t
scandalize everyone. We don’t want to shock them with your sinful stories.”
“Boredom is a
sin. You’re never too old for a little excitement. I’m doing them a favor.”
Mimi snapped her fingers in the air. “Pierre! That’s it.” She looked at Grace,
triumphant.
“Pierre?”
“The man who bought me the macarons. We’d made love all night.”
Grace was intrigued. “Where did you meet him? What did he do for a
living?”
“I met him when he came to watch me dance. I have no idea what he
did for a living. We didn’t talk. I wasn’t interested in his prospects—just his
stamina.”
Grace shook her head and adjusted her grandmother’s scarf. “You
should go back.”
“To Paris? I’m too old. Everything would be different. The people
I loved—gone.”
Her grandmother stared into the distance and then gave a shake of
her head.
“Time to dance.” She opened the door and sailed into the room like
a prima ballerina making her entrance onstage.
They were
greeted by a chorus of cheery voices, and Grace unloaded her bag onto the
table. She’d stopped to pick up baguettes from the bakery on Main Street. They
weren’t as crisp and perfect as the ones she’d eaten in France, but they were
the closest thing she could find in rural Connecticut.
While the
staff helped prepare the tables Grace selected the music.
“Edith Piaf!” Mimi glided gracefully to the center of the room and
beckoned to Albert.
Several other people joined them and soon the room was filled with
people swaying.
When they sat down to eat, they bombarded Grace with questions.
Did she have everything in place for David’s surprise? How exactly
was she going to tell him about the trip she had planned?
She’d shared her plans with them, knowing how much they enjoyed
being part of a conspiracy.
It had been David’s idea not to buy each other gifts for their
anniversaries, but instead to treat themselves to experiences. He’d called it
their “Happy Memory Project.” He’d wanted to fill her memory bank with nice
things to cancel out all the bad experiences of her childhood.
It was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her.
The previous
year she’d booked a weekend at Niagara Falls. They’d had a good time, but Grace
had been determined to go bigger and better this year.
The afternoon
passed quickly, and she was clearing up when her friend Monica arrived to teach
a yoga class.
Grace and Monica had met when pregnant. No one understood the
anxieties of parenting like another mother, and it was good to talk to Monica,
even though her friend often made her feel inferior.
Monica was obsessed with living a healthy lifestyle. She blamed
red meat for at least half the wrongs in the world. She juiced, grew her own
vegetables and taught yoga. She insisted the whole family were vegetarian,
although David swore he’d once seen Monica’s husband devouring a sixteen-ounce
bone-in rib eye at a steak house in the neighboring town. They’d only
socialized once as a couple—a dinner consisting almost entirely of lentils,
after which David hadn’t been able to leave the bathroom for twenty-four hours.
Never again, he’d yelled through the bathroom door. She’s
your friend.
Grace, whose own stomach was listing like the deck of a ship in a
storm, had agreed.
From that point onward the friendship had been confined to the two
women.
They met for coffee, or lunch, or the occasional spa day.
Despite
David’s reservations, Grace loved Monica. She had a good heart and teaching
yoga here at Rushing River was an example of that.
Grace helped
Monica set out her equipment in the exercise studio. “How is Chrissie?”
“Anxious. Not sure what she’ll do if she doesn’t get her first
choice of college. The waiting is driving us insane. I’ve been practicing
meditation techniques, but they don’t seem to be working.”
“Sophie is stressed, too. They’re not going to hear until next
month.”
Both girls were hoping for places at Ivy League colleges, and
Grace and Monica knew there would be major disappointment if they didn’t get
in.
“Chrissie wants Brown because she loves their program, but I want
it because it’s close.” Monica removed her sweatshirt, revealing perfectly
toned arms. “I want to be able to visit sometimes.” She sent Grace a guilty
glance. “Sorry. That was tactless.”
Grace would have loved her daughter to go to college on the east
coast, too, but Sophie was desperate for Stanford and excited about going to
California. Grace wouldn’t have wanted to stop her, or try to persuade her to
pick a college closer to home. She was pleased that Sophie had the confidence
to fly far from the nest.
“Do you think
about it a lot? What life will be like when she leaves?” Monica dug out the
microphone she used to teach her class. “Chrissie seems so young still. Todd is
dreading her leaving, although at least we don’t have to worry about her
suddenly going off the rails. She’s such a steady, sensible girl. How’s David
taking it?”
“He seems
relaxed. We don’t really talk about it.” Grace didn’t want to spoil the last
few months of having Sophie at home by constantly focusing on her departure.
She’d hidden her feelings of anxiety in case she somehow transmitted them to
her daughter. She and David were not Sophie’s responsibility.
She’d stuck to that resolution—even with friends. “It will be a
change, of course, but we’re both looking forward to having some time
together.”
Long summer days stretched ahead, just her and David... No Sophie
bouncing into the kitchen and raiding the fridge. No clothes strewn around the
house and open books on the furniture. No letters of outrage spread across the
kitchen counter ready to be mailed.
When Sophie left there would be a big gaping hole in her life.
There were moments when it scared her to think about it, but she knew it was up
to her and David to fill it.
“You’re both so well-adjusted.” Monica clipped the microphone to
her top. “When Chrissie first raised the possibility of going to
Europe with
Sophie this summer I thought Todd was going to explode. I keep telling him
she’s not a child anymore and that she wants to be with her friends. But I’m
worrying a little, too. Do you think we should have encouraged them to do
something less adventurous?”
“I was the
same age when I first went to Paris. It was an unforgettable experience.”
Memories flashed through her head. Rain-soaked Paris streets,
sunshine filtering through the trees in the Jardin des Tuileries, her first
proper kiss in the moonlight with the river Seine sparkling behind her. The
glimpse of a life so far removed from hers, it made her dizzy. The excitement
of knowing there was a whole world out there waiting for her.
Philippe.
First love.
And then the phone call that had changed everything.
It all seemed so long ago.
“But they’re doing Rome and Florence, too.” Monica wasn’t
reassured. “I’ve heard bad things about Florence. Donna’s daughter had her
purse stolen, and she said they didn’t dare go out unless there were two of
them—even in the day. They were groped all the time. And what if someone spikes
their drinks? I don’t want
Chrissie introducing
poisons to her system. She’s never even had antibiotics.”
Grace dragged herself
out of the past. She was pretty sure that Chrissie would be poisoning her
system plenty when she got to college. “They’re sensible. If they do get into
trouble—which they won’t—they can call us. David and I will be in Paris for a
month.”
It sounded exotic,
and suddenly it felt as if a door had opened just a crack. Part of her would
always ache for those days when her daughter had been safely nestled in the
protective cocoon of the family, but there were plenty of things to be excited
about in the future.
Possibilities
stretched before her.
David’s parents had
passed away early in their marriage and he had no other family. He’d often said
that Grace and Sophie were his whole world, and Grace was happy with that
because she felt the same way. And she had Mimi, too. She smiled. Her
buttercream frosting.
The idea of a month
in Europe, when every day would be completely their own, left her feeling
almost light-headed. They’d lounge in bed, enjoy long breakfasts on the balcony
of the hotel, do some sightseeing. They’d have the time and energy for sex, and
wouldn’t have to worry that Sophie might disturb them.
She’d miss
Sophie, but the more she thought about it the more excited she was about
spending more time with David.
She raised the
subject later, when she and David were at dinner.
“I’ve been thinking of all the things we can do when Sophie has
left for college.”
The restaurant was full. They were surrounded by the low hum of
conversation, the clink of glasses, the occasional sound of laughter. Candles
flickered on tables and silverware gleamed.
“We don’t know where she’s going yet.” He tucked into his boeuf
bourguignon. The scent of herbs and red wine drifted across the table. “She
might not get in.”
“She will. She’s smart. And she works hard. Our baby is grown-up.”
From behind them there was a burst of applause. Grace turned her
head. A man was on one knee behind them, holding out a ring to a weeping woman.
Grace clapped, too, and then glanced back at David. She’d expected him to wink
at her, or maybe roll his eyes at the clichéd public display, but David wasn’t
smiling. He was staring at the couple with an expression Grace couldn’t quite
interpret.
“It’s going to be just the two of us,” he said. He watched as the
man slid a ring onto the woman’s finger. “Do you ever think about that?”
Grace shifted
in her seat so that her back was to the couple. She’d ordered the duck confit,
and it was delicious. “Of course. I’ve also been thinking of all the things we
can do. I’m looking forward to it, aren’t you?”
She was so
caught up in her own burst of positivity that it took a moment for her to
realize he hadn’t answered her. He was still staring past her to the couple.
“David?”
He put his fork down. “I feel old, Grace. As if the best days of
my life are behind me.”
“What? David, that’s insane. You’re in your prime! If
it helps, Mimi thinks you’re sexier than you’ve ever been.”
She thought so, too. When you grew up alongside someone you didn’t
always see them the way a stranger did, but lately she’d found herself looking
at the width of David’s shoulders or the shadow on his jaw and thinking nice. Age
had given him a gravitas that she found irresistible.
At the mention of Mimi, the tension left his features. His eyes
crinkled at the corners—a precursor of the smile she loved so much. “You’ve
been discussing my sex appeal with your grandmother?”
“You know what she’s like. I swear if I weren’t already married to
you, she’d marry you. No, actually...” She frowned. “Marriage
is too establishment for Mimi. She wouldn’t want to be tied down.
She’d sleep
with you, and then discard you and not even remember your name. Paris is paved
with the fragments of all the hearts Mimi broke there.”
And soon
they’d be going there. Maybe this was a good time to tell him.
He fiddled with his knife. “I still remember the day Sophie was
born. I can’t believe she’s leaving home.”
“It’s natural to feel that way, but we should be proud. We’ve
raised a smart, kind, independent adult. That was our job as parents. She
thinks for herself, and now she’s going to live by herself. It’s the way things
are supposed to be.”
The fact that it hadn’t been that way for her had made her all the
more determined to make it happen for her daughter.
David put his knife down. “A milestone like this really makes you
take a good look at your life. I’ve been thinking about us, Grace.”
She nodded, pleased. “I’ve been thinking about us, too. We should
celebrate our fresh start. And our summer won’t be empty,
because I have the perfect way to fill it. Happy anniversary, David.”
She handed over the parcel she’d kept hidden under her chair. The
paper was covered in tiny pictures of Paris landmarks. The Eiffel Tower. The
Arc de Triomphe. The Louvre. It had taken two hours of searching to find it on
the internet.
What’s this?”
“It’s my
anniversary surprise. We always take a trip and make a new memory. This is a
special one. And maybe you’ll feel inspired to work on your novel.” He’d been
working on a book for as long as she’d known him, but had never finished it.
“A trip?” He removed the paper slowly, as if he wasn’t sure he
wanted to know what was underneath.
The couple at the next table glanced at them, intrigued. She knew
them vaguely—in the way everyone knew everyone in a small town like this one.
Faces were always familiar. Someone’s cousin. Someone’s aunt. Someone’s
husband.
David pulled out the street map of Paris she’d also ordered on the
internet. “We’re going to Paris?”
“Yes!” She was ridiculously pleased with herself. “It’s all
booked. We’re going for a month, right through July. You’re going to love it,
David.”
“A month?”
“If you’re worried about taking the time off work, don’t be. I
already spoke to Stephen, and he thinks it’s a great idea. You’ve been working
hard, and July is a quiet month, and—”
“Wait. You spoke to my boss?” He rubbed his jaw, as if
he’d suffered a physical blow. Streaks of color appeared on his cheekbones, and
she couldn’t work out if it was anger or embarrassment.
“I needed to know you
could take the time off.” Perhaps she shouldn’t have done that—although Stephen
had been charming about it.
“Grace, you don’t
have to handle every detail of my life.”
“I thought you’d be
thrilled.” Wasn’t he going to look at the other items in the box? There was a
ticket for the Métro, the Paris subway, a postcard of the Eiffel Tower and a
glossy brochure for the hotel she’d booked. “This trip is for us.
We’ll have a month together in the summer, exploring the city. We can eat
dinner outside in pavement cafés, watch the world go by and decide what we want
our future to look like. Just the two of us.”
She was determined to
view this new phase of life as an adventure and a celebration, not as a time
for regrets and nostalgia.
Would it feel weird
being in Paris with David? No, of course it wouldn’t. Her last visit had been
decades ago. It was part of a past she didn’t let herself think about.
“You should have
talked to me about this, Grace.”
“I wanted it to be a
surprise.”
He looked sick. She
started to feel sick, too. The evening wasn’t going the way she’d imagined it.
He closed the box.
“You’ve booked everything already? Yes, of course you have. You’re you.”
“What’s that
supposed to mean?” Was she supposed to apologize for something that was one of
her best qualities? Being organized was a good thing. She’d
grown up with the opposite and she knew how bad that was.
“You do
everything—even though I’m capable of doing things for myself. You don’t have
to buy my boss’s gift, Grace. I can handle it.”
“I know you can handle it, but I’m happy to do it so that you
don’t have to.”
“You organize every single small detail of our lives.”
“So nothing gets forgotten.”
“I understand why that is important to you. Really, I do.”
There was gentleness in his tone and the sympathy in his eyes made
her squirm a little. It was like walking into a crowded room and discovering
you’d forgotten to button your shirt.
“We don’t need to talk about bad stuff on a night like tonight.”
“Maybe we do. Maybe we should have talked about it a lot more than
we have.”
“It’s our anniversary. This is a celebration. You’re worried I’m
doing too much? It’s fine, David. I like to do it. It’s not a
problem.”
She reached across the table but he moved his hand away.
“It’s a problem for me, Grace.”
“Why? You’re busy, and I love spoiling you.”
“You make me feel...”
He rubbed his jaw. “Incapable. Sometimes I wonder if you even need me.”
Her insides swooped.
She felt as if she’d stepped off a cliff. “How can you say that? You know it’s
not true.”
“Do I? You plan every
detail of our lives. You are the most independent woman I know. What exactly
do I contribute to this marriage?”
At any other time she
would have said great sex, and they both would have collapsed with
laughter, but tonight David wasn’t laughing, and she didn’t feel like laughing,
either.
The people at the
table closest to them were staring.
Grace didn’t care.
“You contribute
plenty! David—”
“We have to talk,
Grace.” He pushed his plate to one side, his meal only half-eaten. “I wasn’t
going to say this tonight, but—”
“But what? What do
you want to talk about?” Unease mushroomed inside her. He didn’t sound like
himself. David was always sure, confident and dependable. She almost always
knew what he was thinking. “Why do you keep rubbing your jaw?”
“Because it aches.”
“You should see the
dentist. Maybe you have an abscess or something. I’ll make you an appointment
in the morning—” She stopped in midsentence. “Or you can make it yourself if
you prefer.”
“I want a divorce,
Grace.”
There was a strange
ringing in her ears. The background music and the clatter from the kitchen had
distorted his words. He couldn’t possibly have just said what she’d thought
he’d said.
“Excuse me?”
“A divorce.” He
tugged at the collar of his shirt as if it was strangling him. “Saying those
words makes me feel sick. I never wanted to hurt you, Gracie.”
She hadn’t misheard
him.
“Is this because I
bought Stephen a gift?”
“No.” He muttered
something and tugged at his collar again. “I shouldn’t be doing this now. I
didn’t plan to. I should have—”
“Is it because of
Sophie leaving? I know it’s unsettling...”
Panic gripped her
heart. Squeezed. Squeezed some more. Her lungs. She couldn’t breathe. She was
going to pass out in her duck confit. She imagined the story appearing in the
following day’s edition of the Woodbrook Post.
A
local woman was asphyxiated when she fell face-first into her meal.
“It’s not because of
Sophie. It’s us. Things haven’t been right for a while.”
There was something
in David’s eyes she’d never seen before.
Pity. Yes,
there was sadness, and also guilt, but it was the pity that tore her to shreds.
This was
David. Her David—who had cried on their wedding day because he
loved her so much, who had held her while their daughter fought her way into
the world and been there for Grace through thick and thin. David, her best
friend and the only person who truly knew her.
He would never want to see her hurt, let alone hurt her himself.
Knowing that, she felt her panic turn to fear. He didn’t want to hurt her but
he was doing it anyway—which meant this was serious. He’d decided he’d rather
hurt her than stay with her.
“I don’t understand.” Surely if something hadn’t been right, she’d
have known? She and David had been a team for as long as she could remember.
Without him she would have fallen apart all those years ago. “What hasn’t been
right, David?”
“Our lives have become... I don’t know. Boring.” His forehead
glistened with sweat. “Predictable. I go to work in the same place, see the
same people and I come home every day to—”
“To me.” It was all too easy to finish his sentence. “So what
you’re really saying is that I’m predictable. I’m boring.”
Her hands were shaking and she clasped them in her lap.
“It’s not you, Grace. It’s me.”
The fact that he was
shouldering the blame didn’t help. “How can it be all you? I’m the one you’re
married to and you’re unhappy—which means I’m doing something wrong.” And the
problem was that she loved the fact that their life was
predictable. “I grew up with unpredictability, David. Believe me, it’s
overrated.”
“I know what you grew
up with.”
Of course he did.
Was she boring? God, was it true?
It was true that she
was a little obsessed about them being good parents to Sophie, but that was
important to David, too.
He undid another
button on his shirt and gestured to the waiter to bring more water. “Why is it
so hot in here? I don’t feel too good... I can’t remember what I was saying...”
She didn’t feel too
good, either. “You were telling me you want a divorce.”
She hadn’t believed
that word would ever come up in a conversation between her and David, and she
wished it hadn’t come up now, in a public place. At least two of the people in
the bistro had children in her class—which was unfortunate, given the nature of
this conversation.
Mommy
says you’re getting divorced, Mrs. Porter, is that right?
“Grace—”
David took a
sip of water, and she noticed there was a tremor in his hand. He was looking
pale and ill.
She was pretty
sure that if she looked in the mirror she’d think the same about herself.
What about Sophie? She’d be devastated. What if she was too upset
to go away for the summer? It was terrible, awful timing.
Monica would probably blame red meat. Too much
testosterone.
“We can talk to someone, if you think that would help. Whatever it
is that needs working on, we’ll work on it.”
“Fixing our marriage isn’t something you can add to your ‘To Do’
list, Grace.”
She felt color flood into her cheeks, because mentally she’d been
doing exactly that. “We’ve been married for twenty-five years. There is
nothing—nothing—we can’t fix.”
“I’m having an affair.”
The words were like a solid punch to her gut.
“No!” Her voice cracked. And that was how she felt. Cracked.
Broken. As if she were a piece of fine china he’d flung against the cabinet.
“Tell me that isn’t true.”
She was going to be sick. Right here in a pretty little French
bistro, in front of an audience of around fifty people, she was going to be
sick.
She could imagine how the kids in her class would react to that.
Did
you barf, miss?
Yes,
Connor. I barfed, but it had nothing to do with the duck.
David looked worse
than she felt. “I didn’t plan it, Grace.”
“Is that supposed to
make me feel better?”
She had a thousand
questions.
Who
is this woman? Do I know her? How long has it been going on?
In the end she asked
only one. “Do you love her?”
David rubbed his
fingers over his forehead. “I—Yes. I think so, yes.”
She almost doubled
over. Not just sex, then, but feelings. Strong feelings.
It was the ultimate
betrayal.
She stood, although
her legs didn’t seem to agree with the decision. They felt like water. But she
didn’t want the local community to witness any more of this conversation—not
for his sake but for hers and Sophie’s. How much had people heard already? Was
she going to be stopped in the supermarket?
I
hear David doesn’t love you? That must be tough.
“Let’s go.”
“Grace, wait!” David
fumbled for some bills and dropped them on the table without counting them.
Grace was already
halfway to the door, the box filled with her Paris plans tucked under her arm.
She had no idea why it seemed so important to take it with her. Maybe she
didn’t want to leave her dreams lying around. The happy summer she’d spent
months planning wasn’t going to happen. Instead, they’d spend the time dividing
up property and belongings and consulting lawyers.
The reality of it
swamped her.
David was the love of
her life. He was the solid foundation upon which she’d constructed her
wonderfully safe, predictable world. Without him the whole thing would crumble.
She felt as if she
was having an out-of-body experience. Her mind was elsewhere but her body was
still here in this bistro, going through the motions. Smiling, leaving—thank
you, yes, the meal was delicious—as if her life hadn’t just been torn
apart.
David pressed his
hand to his chest again and shook his head when the waiter offered him his
coat. “Grace, I’m not feeling too good—”
Seriously?
“Oddly enough, I’m
not feeling too good, either.”
Did he expect
sympathy?
“I feel as if—I
can’t—”
David staggered and
then collapsed, sending a trolley and a coat stand flying. The weight of him
hit the floor with a sickening thud.
Grace couldn’t
move.
Was this what
shock did to you? Did it freeze you into a useless object?
Silence had fallen across the restaurant. She was vaguely aware
that a few diners were standing up, the better to see what was going on.
Waiters had turned to look at her, panic and expectation in their eyes.
David was on the floor, sweat covering his brow and his eyes
bulging.
He clawed at the collar of his shirt and pressed his hand to his
chest.
His eyes met hers and she saw the terror there.
Help me...help me.
“Call the emergency services.” She was fascinated by how normal
she sounded.
She was trained in first aid, but her body and mind were paralyzed
by the knowledge that her husband of twenty-five years didn’t love her anymore.
He’d been unfaithful to her. He’d had sex with another woman.
Probably multiple times. How long had it been going on? Where? In their bed or
somewhere else?
David’s throat made a rattling sound and Grace examined her
response with a mixture of awe and curiosity. Was she seriously con
idering not
resuscitating him?
My
name is Grace Porter and I murdered my husband.
No, not murder.
Murder was premeditated. This was more...opportunistic.
If he died she
wouldn’t even know who to call to break the news. She’d have to look around her
at the funeral and try to identify the one woman who was crying as hard as she
was.
Dimly registering the
clattering and panic around her, Grace stared down at him for what felt like
minutes but was in fact no more than a few seconds.
This was the man she
loved. They’d had a child together. She’d assumed they’d grow old together.
If he was bored with
his life, why hadn’t he said something?
The injustice of it
almost strangled her sense of duty. He hadn’t even given her a chance to fix
things. He’d made the decision for both of them. How could he do that?
As sirens sounded in
the distance, David made a choking sound and then his eyes closed.
Grace woke from her
inertia.
She couldn’t let
another person die even though it felt as if that person had stabbed her
through the heart.
She knelt down beside
him, felt for a pulse, checked his breathing and then put her hands on his
chest and started compressions.
One, two,
three—Damn you, David...damn you, David...
She counted as
she pumped and then pinched his nose and breathed air into his mouth, trying
not to think about those lips kissing another woman.
The first thing she was going to do when she got back home was
change the sheets.
The sound of sirens grew louder. She willed them to hurry. She
didn’t want him to die. That would be the easy way out for
him, and Grace didn’t want to give him the easy way out.
She wanted answers.
My Review:
One Summer in Paris
Sarah Morgan
Sarah Morgan
In Sarah Morgan’s latest absolutely fabulous stand-alone
women’s fiction novel she introduces two very different women who fate bring together on a Paris avenue and changes both their lives forever. Grace Porter
from Connecticut never could have believed that when she booked her month-long
twenty-fifth anniversary surprise trip to Paris for her and her husband she’d
be going alone, while across the pond in London eighteen year old Audrey
Hackett’s plan to spend the summer in Paris far away from the chaos at home
almost didn’t happen when the money she’d saved to get there disappeared.
This author is a master storyteller and reading her latest
novel proves it. This tale is uplifting and heartbreaking about love, loss,
forgiving moving on and second chances it’s incredibly hard to put down and the
message and its players will stay with you long after the pages have ended.
She delivers a kind of adult coming of age story starring
two amazing women who on the surface seem as different as night and day, but as
this exceptional author peels the layers readers see just how much they have in
common.
Grace is predictable and compassionate sensual and maternal
and the audience will love seeing her beautiful transformation – Audrey on the
other hand hides her vulnerabilities behind a convincing tough as nails mask.
The Paris sights and sounds are incredible the bookshop in
Paris is delightfully charming the other characters are essential to the
storyline and the love stories are touching and real.
If you’re a fan of Kristin Hannah then you will love the
writings of Sarah Morgan.
Other works by Sarah
Romantic Times has described her as 'a magician with words' and nominated her books for their Reviewer's Choice Awards and their 'Top Pick' slot. In 2012 Sarah received the prestigious RITA® Award from the Romance Writers of America. She lives near London with her family.
Find out more at www.sararahmorgan.com
I love this author and have read her books before. I am putting this book at the top of my to read list. Great review!
ReplyDeleteI have been reading her since way back when she only wrote for HQN series. She is absolutely FABULOUS. Thanks for stopping by!
DeletePoor Grace! But good on her to go anyway and make a friend. It sounds like a lovely story.
ReplyDeleteIt was so amazing I just can't say enough
DeleteII always enjoy Sarah Morgan's books.
ReplyDeleteI know you do!
DeleteLove to find new to me authors and Paris is one of my favorite cities to read about! Looking forward to this one!
ReplyDeletegood luck!
DeleteAwww Paris! If only
ReplyDeleteoui oui
DeleteCaptivating and wonderful story. Thanks.
ReplyDeletegood luck
DeleteCan't wait, it is now started its voyage from the UK to me, so should be here in about 10 days! I love the cover of the US one, the UK one not so much.
ReplyDeletereally usually I like her UK covers better but you're right this time I like the US better too. I hope you love it too Kathryn
DeleteI've never read this author but this sounds pretty good.
ReplyDeleteI think you'd like her Mary
DeleteCan't wait to read this one
ReplyDeleteYou'll love it!
DeleteEverything I have read by her I have loved. I really need to grab this.
ReplyDeletegrab it now!
DeleteI have heard of her. but never read her books. This sounds like a captivating story.
ReplyDeleteyou'd like her Nadene
DeleteWhat a beautiful and carefree cover. It sounds like it houses a great story! Thanks!
ReplyDeleteit really does!
DeleteJill Shalvis is one of my favorite authors. I love how you describe this as an adult coming of age story. I love that two very different women (as far as age and where they are from,) come together and build a friendship. Thanks for sharing! Awesome Review!
ReplyDeleteLindy@ A Bookish Escape
Thanks Lindy I've only read a few of Jill's books but have liked them.
Delete