Page 30 of Forgiving Paris
Ashley Baxter wasn’t their business.
And so, Albert had created a plan, and that afternoon he entered the gallery much like any other patron. He had done his research on the place so he meandered his way up to the owner, Emilie Love. After several minutes, Albert stopped at a pretty impressionist piece. “I likethis.” He looked over his shoulder at Emilie. “Tell me about it.”
He waited until Emilie was at his side and minutes into her explanation of the artwork, before he stopped her. “That is not why I am here, Ms. Love.”
“Do I know you?” Concern filled Emilie’s eyes. She began to back up. “What… what is this about?”
“I am a reporter fromStylemagazine. You know the publication?”
“Oui.” The woman’s expression relaxed some. “Okay.”
Albert motioned for Emilie to come close again. “I need to know more about Ashley Baxter. What time she will be here on Thursday, and what door she will enter through.”
The woman told him all he needed to know. She absolutely believed him. Albert smiled as he left.
The gallery owner had no idea what was about to go down.
11
Ashley and Landon arrived in Paris and got through customs with little delay. Once they had their bags they connected with their private driver. Ashley was glad. She didn’t feel like sharing a ride today.
“You stayed awake.” Landon had slept most of the flight, but he was alert now.
“Yes.” She forced a smile. “I… kept remembering.”
“That’s what I thought.” Landon took her hand. “Tell me about it.”
Ashley shook her head. “Maybe later, Landon. Is that okay?”
“Sure.” He looked slightly hurt. “I have to believe all this remembering is good for you.”
“I’m not sure.” She wanted to ask what he had expected. Of course being here was bound to stir up the worst memories. “I’m sorry, Landon. It’s not about you. You know that, right?”
“I do.” He kissed her hand. “You’ll find your way through this.”
They stopped for salads near the Seine and before they reached their hotel, they drove past a street Ashleyrecognized. At the stoplight, she checked the sign and her heart skipped a beat. This was where Jean-Claude Pierre had owned a private studio. A place where Ashley had been far too many times.
She thought about telling Landon, but it didn’t seem right. By the time they checked into their brownstone boutique hotel it was two in the afternoon, and Ashley had been awake for more than twenty-four hours.
“I have emails to answer.” Landon kissed her forehead once they were in the living room of their suite. “You go lie down and get some sleep. If you feel rested, we’ll go out for dinner later.”
Ashley welcomed the idea. “Sorry. I should’ve slept on the plane.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He took her in his arms and held her for a long time. “Go sleep and you’ll feel better in a few hours.”
But even with the sun-blocking shades and the comfort of the soft linens and pillows, Ashley still couldn’t sleep. She could see herself walking her suitcase back up the stairs to Ms. Martin’s flat, fighting tears every step of the way.
Her new friend Celia was not here to help this time around. Besides, what would Celia think of Ashley now? Her dream of being an artist at the Montmartre Gallery had lived exactly ten minutes. So much for dreams.
Ashley had been honest with Ms. Martin about Marguerite’s reaction to her artwork. “She said it was trash.”
“No, dear.” Ms. Martin sat at her kitchen table acrossfrom Ashley. “It’s a matter of taste. Marguerite does not like Americans.”
The woman’s kindness stirred a spark of hope, and it stayed with her the next day when she showed up at the gallery, wearing a black skirt and white blouse.Marguerite doesn’t like Americans. That’s all. I’m an artist, no matter what that woman says.
Marguerite stationed Ashley at the front desk. When an American customer came through the doors, it was Ashley’s job to lead them around. No, she wasn’t an artist, but at least she was working in a gallery. Still, she had no training, no idea what to tell the customers, and she told that to Marguerite an hour later.
Again the woman looked at her like she was brainless. “Read the card, Ashley. Just point at the painting and read the cards. I’ll take it from there.”
