Free Letter from Paris by Thérèse

wanted you to find those letters…”
    “Stop Peter. I can’t do this right now. I can’t talk about it. Please just get your things and go. We can talk when I’ve had more time.”
    Hesitating for a moment, Peter turned and left the room. Luella switched on the television and sat staring mindlessly at the screen. A while later, she heard the front door close gently and soon after, the revving of an engine.
    How can twenty years be over in the space of an hour? she wondered, closing her eyes and blinking back tears.

    India threw her coat on the back of a chair and spread out Henry’s papers across the kitchen table. She sat down to read the contract and gasped.
    There must be something wrong with my math, she thought. He can’t possibly be offering me more in a week than I’ve ever earned in a month.
    She read the first two pages slowly again. The line for travel and accommodation clearly indicated she would not be expected to stay at a Holiday Inn or to travel coach. There was some legal jargon but it didn’t get in the way of her understanding that Lichtenstein and Cowan LLC was hiring Miss India Butler as a consultant and that Lichtenstein and Cowan LLC was offering to pay her very well indeed.
    But for what exactly? she thought. What did consulting actually involve? Whatever…Annie was right. She would be insane not to grab this opportunity. What could be the worst that could happen? It was just a job. Why this paralyzing fear of failure? Had she really failed before? Running her workshops in LA and getting published had been a great achievement, but one excruciatingly embarrassing incident (that she sickened even to think about) had knocked so much of her confidence.
    Yes, she had written her book and had even overcome the terrors of appearing on primetime television to promote it, but someone who was really driven would have gone on to write another, learned how to promote herself better through the media. There were enough classes out there on that. Something had stopped her. She had come back to London, to her comfort zone, to a job she could do with her eyes shut.
    India stood up and went over to the sink. Filling the kettle, she popped a teabag into a pot and stood waiting for the water to boil. What exactly did she want? Of course she knew deep down that all she wanted was for Adam to move their relationship on, ask her to live with him or at least make a long-term plan with her. Clearly, he was still terrified of commitment. Roger was right. It was time to take control and make some plans of her own. She grabbed a teacup and saucer, some skim milk, brought the tea tray back to the table and sat down.
    Okay, she thought, shaking off the image she had dreamed about so often: a house overlooking the ocean in Malibu and a bassinet in a bedroom she shared with Adam. Okay. Enough. This really is ENOUGH. What was that Leonard Cohen quote? Act the way you want to be and soon you’ll be the way you act. “Okay, okay,” she said to her cat, asleep and curled under her feet. “I will act like an independent woman of the twenty-first century.”
    Pushing the tea things away, she reached across the stack of bills and magazines and lifted a well-thumbed book. I wonder what an overpaid consultant type person should wear for meetings, she thought. I shall consult the oracle that is Inès de la Fressange.

    Luella showered and dressed quickly, relieved to have appointments all day that would get her out of her home office and out of the house. It was unseasonably cold and she was regretting her choice of a linen jacket as she stepped out of the cab in front of Henry’s office.
    “Hi, Miss Marchmont. Great to see you. How was Paris?”
    “Thanks, Samantha. You look lovely as ever. Paris went well. Is India here yet?”
    “Yes. She and Henry are in the boardroom already. Can I get you anything? There’s water in there but I’ll run across the street if you fancy a latte.”
    “Water will be fine thanks, and I