Free The Little Antique Shop Under the Eiffel Tower by Rebecca Raisin Page A

you get the cello?” Madame said huskily.
    “Oui, not without a little drama.” I filled Madame Dupont in on the morning.
    “Ooh la la, I adore him already! Joshua must have been seeing red! What a delight! What does he look like this devilish Monsieur Black?”
    I shook my head. I could have bet money Madame Dupont would ask such a thing. “Like a man with too much money.”
    “Parfait!”
    “Parfait for what?”
    “For you, Anouk! Lilou and I are in agreeance on this matter. It really is time to throw yourself to the wolves and see what happens…”
    “I’ll get eaten alive!” I laughed. Honestly, they had this idea that I was missing something in my life, but they just couldn’t see I wasn’t made like them. Love did not come first for me.
    Madame’s loud drawing of a cigarette filtered down the line. “Is he a collector, or a dealer?”
    “I don’t know, he spoke like a collector, but he was out the front of my shop the other day and then he turned up at Andre’s estate as I was leaving, so I suppose he could dabble in both. A way to alleviate the
ennui
I suppose.”
    “He’s a dashing American. A knight in shining armor! I can’t wait to run into him.” In the background the ticking and chiming of various clocks rang out. I wondered how Madame Dupont could stand the disharmonious symphony.
    “Oui, and he has that same innate charm, exudes confidence. Eyes the color of the ocean,” I sighed. Why couldn’t men like him be French, staid and solid? That kind of man I could go for.
    Madame Dupont let out a sensual sigh. “If I was your age, Anouk, there’d be no stopping me. In fact, even at my age, there’d be no stopping me, because who dares wins. Why don’t you dare, just this once?”
    A customer knocked on the door, and I motioned for him to come in. It was Elliot from the wine bar, who often browsed the shelves for décor, and stopped for a chat about business. “Won’t be long,” I said to him.
    “No rush.” He moved about with his hands in his pockets, peering at a selection of mirrors hung from gold hooks along the walls.
    I lowered my voice. “Madame, aside from your many
petit
affairs, I’m just like you. I don’t want to be tied down, to follow any particular set of rules, or form. I’ve never really dreamed of walking down the aisle, maybe I never will, and is that so bad? You haven’t, and you’re the happiest person I know.” They were just words, though. I wasn’t sure how I felt about marriage. I envied the idea of it. But I couldn’t see it happening for me.
    She tutted. “We’re
not
the same, Anouk. I could never be as sweet of heart as you! I chose to remain single because I couldn’t commit to one person. But it isn’t easy. There are plenty of times when I wonder if I made a huge mistake with some of the men I’ve loved and let go. Maybe I would have enjoyed love, after the dizzying novelty of that first rapture faded and was replaced with something more fulsome? Truer, deeper? But I never gave it a chance. And that might have been a huge mistake…”
    Madame Dupont had never spoken this openly with me about her love life. “Do you really regret it, Madame, or do you just think it’s what I need to hear?” I couldn’t see Madame Dupont as lonely, even now, men flocked to her, but maybe she did crave that more solid love, one that had longevity.
    She took some time to answer. “Regret is such a miserable word. But there have been plenty of times alone, where I wished I took the risk and gave someone my heart, and not just a sliver of it. After one stumble
you’ve
pulled the shutters down. Closed up shop. I’m just saying, don’t waste your life protecting your heart, or you’ll get to the end of it, and realize it wasn’t worth it.” Her words poured out with so much melancholy, it was hard to know what to say, and whether she truly meant me, or if something had happened to make her so forlorn.
    Speaking gently, I said, “I see, Madame, I