Page 6 of After Paris
Chapter Six
Ruby
Wednesday, July 2, 2025
1:00 p.m.
The July heat warmed my bones as I sat in the recliner by the pool, dressed in a red polka-dot bikini, a large white wide-brimmed hat, and dark sunglasses. I had returned from Madame Bernard’s and discovered I needed to take a small afternoon break. My doctor had told me it would take time—months, even years—to regain my full strength. He’d insisted that whenever I felt tired, I should slow my pace.
Easier said than done.
In high school I’d loaded up on advanced placement classes and graduated with two years’ worth of college credits. In college, I’d decided one major wasn’t enough, so I majored in French and business and minored in public relations. I took the maximum number of credits allowed per semester and was doing fifty hours a week in the library. I had color-coded charts on my dorm wall and my phone to remind me of deadlines. I never got tired and felt a little lost when I didn’t have a moment scheduled. Chaos and confusion were my jam.
If my parents saw me lounging by the pool now, they’d be glad, and then they’d wonder if the body snatchers had arrived and taken the real Ruby. I closed my eyes and tilted my face toward the sun.
I breathed in and then out slowly. I’m healthy. I’m in remission. Think positive thoughts.
As I repeated my mantra, I glimpsed Destination: Positive in the distance, but the winds shifted and knocked me off my path. Suddenly, I pictured a smiling Scott.
“ Babe, I love you. I would do anything for you. ”
I’d had wicked nausea, and my patience was paper thin. “All I hear is the big ‘but.’”
His eyes softened, and he cupped my face in his hands. Very gently, he kissed my lips, and I wished that I was feeling good so I could jump his bones. The sex between us had always been great, and I so missed having sex.
“ I love you.” His lips were flat, his gaze direct. “No ‘buts.’ ”
We’d been together for a year, and I’d grown to notice the subtle changes in his expressions. When his brows rose, he was upset. When his lips flattened, he was angry. He never had to utter a word for me to know that the politics in his office had turned toxic, or a guy had grabbed his weights at the gym, or the buses were late.
His brow furrowed slightly.
Pending disaster had a coarseness that couldn’t be smoothed. Silent, I waited.
“I’m sorry, but I need a break from this,” he said.
“‘This’?” I asked.
“ The hospitals, the doctors, the endless bad news. ”
“ I’d like a break too,” I quipped. “We could go somewhere. A sandy beach would hit the spot. ”
The furrow deepened. “You have to stay here. You’ll die if you don’t.”
I glanced at the IV connected to blue-green veins in my pale, thin arm. I wondered where I started and the machines ended. “I’m very aware.”
He walked to the window and stared out over the parking lot. “I need time away.”
“ Time. ”
He hesitated, turned, and crossed to the bed. He took my hand in the now-damp grip of his fingers. “I love you.”
“But this is too hard,” I said. Later I would cry, but at that moment, I was so pissed. I didn’t pull away from him. I wanted him to take me in his arms and hold me close.
However, guys don’t give soul-searing hugs when ditching a partner. I desperately needed him to stay. He was a lifeline, but I would not beg.
“ I’ll be back. It’s a break. I won’t be gone forever. ”
“ You’re going back to Paris? ”
“ Yes. I’ve been away from work for two months. I’ll lose my job if I don’t go back. ”
We’d been living together when I received my diagnosis. I packed a bag but left behind clothes, mementos, and random items. I’d worried about losing my job, but my fear of cancer had swallowed that up. “Send me my stuff.”
“ What? No, babe. It’s not forever. ”
A couple of months could be my forever. “Just go, Scott.”
He stared at me for a long moment, and then he rose and kissed me on the forehead. “I love you.”
A car horn honked on Union Street, pulling me away from the image still imprinted on my brain. I hadn’t seen Scott in two years. Love or not, he wasn’t coming back.
I reached for my phone and opened the pictures I’d taken of Sylvia’s diary. As I leaned into the scripted words, the tension banding my gut eased. I stopped thinking about Scott, cancer, and where the hell I’d be in a year and slipped into her world. In these few pages, she had yet to meet Cécile. She’d stepped onto the path that would lead her toward the movie industry and, ultimately, here.
My phone rang, and I smiled when I saw Eric’s number. “Big brother. I’m alive and well. You received my text.”
“You’re doing okay?”
“Yes. You saw me yesterday morning.” His concern touched me, but I was also a little annoyed. “You don’t need to check up on me.”
“I wasn’t checking up,” he said. “Maybe I needed dating advice.”
“Are we talking about the blond?”
“Susan,” he corrected. “And yes, we’re talking about Susan. We met. Had a lovely time. And we’re having dinner.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“Nice. Where?”
“The same place where we met. Seemed like common ground.”
“Good. And what’re you going to talk about?”
“I have no idea,” he said. “I used up all my ideas when we had drinks. If Susan wants to talk about the mechanics of bridge building, I can talk for hours, but ...”
“Human interaction is a challenge. I got you. Susan looked fit. Does she work out? What’s her favorite exercise routine? What’s the best thing that’s happened to her this year?”
“Not her job or zodiac sign?”
“No, not her zodiac sign. And jobs skim the surface. You want open-ended questions.”
“For reference, what’s my zodiac sign?”
“You were born March second, which means you’re a Pisces, the fish, one of the water signs.”
“Right. I want to make sure everything runs smoothly. I can already picture Susan stopping the date after fifteen minutes and leaving.”
“What is it with the Nevins siblings? Why are we so convinced that the worst is going to happen?”
“Because it does.”
“And sometimes it doesn’t,” I said. “And if it does, we keep going and look for the life on the other side.”
“Are we talking about me or you?”
I chuckled. “Have drinks with Susan and enjoy yourself. Eric, you’re a catch. If she doesn’t see that, another woman will. I’m committed to getting you into a relationship.”
“Now I know it’s going to happen.”
“Bet on it.”
“Speaking of relationships, can you help Jeff out?”
“Help Jeff?”
“The dude had a bad breakup last year, and he’s super gun shy. He needs to meet someone else.”
“I’d forgotten he had a girlfriend last year.” But, in my defense, I barely remembered last year.
“It was intense. Jeff was talking about marriage.”
A twinge of jealousy tweaked my good humor. Of course he’d need and want a solid relationship. “I remember that now. I should have cared about Jeff’s love life, but I didn’t have the reserves. How bad am I? He’s my friend, and I forgot he had a breakup. Maybe I’m not that different than Scott.”
“You’re nothing like Scott. If that ass dropped dead in front of me, I’d step over his body and never look back.”
That prompted a small smile. “Cancer is a hard thing to put on any guy.”
“Life is hard. He needed to sack up.” Eric’s tone had turned brittle.
And for whatever reason, I rose to Scott’s defense. “There’s extensive research about caregivers needing time away.”
“A break or a vacation is one thing. But Scott never came back.”
I drew in a breath, wondering why I was defending Scott. I was looking out for the biological father of my frozen embryos. “Yeah, well, life goes on. Now, back to Jeff. Does he need dating help?”
Eric cleared his throat. “Desperately.”
“Remember when I took you to Butler’s Suits and introduced you to Tommy?”
“I do. I felt like a piece of livestock with you two preening over me.”
“And you looked like a million bucks the other night. I’d bet money Susan adored what she saw. So, you’re welcome. Tell Jeff to see Tommy and tell Tommy to do what he did for you. It won’t be cheap, but Jeff will walk out of that shop a new man.”
“Jeff is loaded and doesn’t care about money.”
“That makes life easier.” He could be attached by fall if he put out feelers in the dating market.
“And then he should see Stella at her salon?” Eric asked.
“Yes. He should get a haircut like yours. She’ll know.”
I hadn’t had enough hair for a cut until a few months ago and watching Stella snip off the hard-won ends had been a little traumatic. But she’d been super cool, joked with me, and ultimately transformed my bird’s nest into a chic style. “Jeff needs to tell Stella I sent him.”
“Perfect. Thank you. Jeff will appreciate this.”
“I’d do anything for him.”
“He’s a good guy.”
Emotion clogged my throat. “He’s one of the best,” I said. “And he deserves to be happy like you.”
“Fingers crossed Susan and I hit it off.”
“Even if it’s not her, Eric, there’s someone out there for you and Jeff. You fellas are now my number one priority.”
“We rank higher than your article?” he teased.
“Barely. But yes.”
“Any luck on the interview?”
“I had a lovely meeting this morning with Madame Bernard. She let me photograph part of her mother’s diary. I’ve been reading it all afternoon. I’m so intrigued already, and this article will be great.”
“It will be.”
“Thanks. It’s nice to be working again.”
My grandfather had set up a trust for me before he passed. And currently, it was supplementing my meager freelancing salary. That was fine for now, but I wanted to stand on my own two feet.
“Glad to have you back in the saddle.”
I traced a cluster of IV scars at the crook of my elbow. “Good to be back.”
Two hours later, I was settled in my hotel room bed, curtains drawn, pizza at my side as I hit play on Secrets in the Shadows . I knew the plot by heart and could recite lines before any character uttered them.
This time, I made notes on Cécile’s costumes. She wore ten outfits, each reflecting the mood created in the scene. In the opening moments, Cécile, a.k.a. Francoise, entered the investigator’s office. She wore a white dress with a fitted bodice and a pleated skirt that skimmed above her knees. Her accessories were pearl drop earrings, a simple gold bracelet, black shoes with chunky three-inch heels, and a slim black clutch that matched the belt hugging her narrow waist.
Anyone watching Secrets in the Shadows would never have guessed that Paris had suffered two years under German occupation. The director had created a world filled with stunningly beautiful actors, breathtaking fashions, gluttonous food displays, and the best bottles of wine. There were no hints of the long breadlines, coal or firewood shortages, Resistance bombings, or brutal retaliations. On film, Paris remained a glittering gem.
Secrets in the Shadows was almost not released because Cécile’s disappearance and the director’s sudden death had cast a shadow over the production. But the German-controlled movie company Continental Films, which oversaw French movie production, was making tremendous amounts of money. So, the scandals were swept under the rug and the film was released six months later. There’d been little publicity, and the distributors had dropped Cécile’s name from above the movie’s title to below. Still, the movie had done well. Rumors about the star’s fate were all over Paris, and many were curious about her latest film.
Cécile was at her most stunning in Secrets in the Shadows . She was no longer the silly airhead searching for love in her romantic comedies. She was only twenty-two during filming, but she had matured into the dangerous blond who knew what she wanted.
I took screenshots of each outfit and hoped that Madame Bernard might have a tale or two about the clothes or the woman wearing them. Cécile was magical on the screen, but much of Francoise’s allure was enhanced by Sylvia’s costumes.