All the Flowers in Paris by Sarah Jio

Author:Sarah Jio
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2019-08-12T16:00:00+00:00

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THE SUN IS warm, and it’s beginning to melt the remnants of yesterday’s snow, but many icy patches remain, and I’m careful not to slip on the cobblestone streets as I make my way to the shop.

I see it just ahead. The little green sign sways in the morning breeze, and I feel a pang in my heart. Our shop has been more than just a business; it has also been a family member of sorts. I’ve found beauty and comfort within its walls, and purpose. So has Papa. I study the crude yellow star on the window, painted with hatred, and I shudder at the sight. Since we left, someone has thrown a rock at the right front window, leaving a dozen cracks in the glass that look like a jagged spiderweb.

I push the old brass key into the lock and step inside, breathing in the familiar scent of flowers, sprigs of baby’s breath, brown paper and twine, and Papa’s aftershave. I hope I’ll never forget what this smells like. Home.

Papa would be horrified to know that the white roses have turned brown, and the stock has all but dried up from lack of water. Instinctively, I walk to the sink, ready to jump into action and breathe life into our little storefront, but I stop myself. There isn’t time for anything more than what I came for: Cosi’s necklace, which I’m relieved to find on the counter, just as she described. I tuck it into the pocket of my coat, which is when I notice…someone standing in the doorway.

It’s him. Reinhardt. I could never forget his name, or his face. “Well, hello again,” he says.

My heart beats wildly in my chest as he walks toward me.

“Céline, isn’t it?”

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

“Yes that’s right, Céline.” He smiles. “You know, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since we met.” As he paces closer to me, I inch away, until my back hits the counter.

He looks at his watch. “Closed for business, I see?” He gives me a reprieve from his gaze and walks to a vase of carnations, stopping to hold the flowers to his nose, before setting it down again. “Fortunately for you,” he continues, turning back to me again, “I am a generous man, and I’ve come to help you.” He walks closer. “You see, I need a new housemaid, someone to tidy my apartment, keep things looking smart. It’s been hard to find the right…woman.” He is so close to me now I can smell his rancid breath. “I live at eighteen rue Cler. You’ll start tomorrow at eight A.M. sharp.” He begins walking to the door, then turns around a final time. “And Céline,” he says, studying my face. I clutch Cosi’s necklace tightly. “It would be such a shame, particularly for your father, if you disappointed me.” He tips his hat to me. “Good day.”

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