Page 1 of Here in My Heart (Here Together #2)
CHAPTER ONE
Sylvie Boucher wiped the sweat from her brow and peeled her sticky thigh from the chair. The late September spike in temperature had surprised none of her southern French neighbors, but she’d already packed away her summer clothes, ready for the new term to begin.
Isabelle de Causier shifted under the parasol, draped in white linen. “Your move, Professor Boucher.”
“I’m so hot,” said Sylvie, envying her friend’s effortless style and poise.
“Damn right.” Isa raised her eyebrow with a hint of her typical mischief. “Too hot to be spending all these nights alone.”
“I mean, I’m sweating from every orifice.” Sylvie nudged her black queen into the sight line of Isa’s king and dabbed the moisture from her lip. She wafted the menu, creating no breeze at all. How did this city carry on in such sweltering temperatures?
The waiter danced across the town square with a sixth sense for who needed his attention.
He stopped at a table with a couple engrossed in one another as if the bustling around them didn’t exist. Sylvie dismissed the pulling sensation in her gut.
Aside from a full-on job and the odd game of chess, her time in the south had so far been pretty unadventurous. And quite lonely.
“Damn it.” Sylvie had missed the sly maneuver which had lost her the advantage. “Always ten steps ahead, you fox.”
“Foxy. I like that.” Isa’s contagious laugh attracted the attention of the neighboring tables.
Sylvie dismissed the flirtation. Isa was nothing more than a new friend. God knows she’d needed one when she arrived in Montpellier hoping to break the glass ceiling of academia.
“Can you believe the summer is over? It’s devastating.” Isa sipped her cool rosé. “Another year of herding students through the halls again. Yuck.”
Sylvie shrugged. “Another merry-go-round of ignorance and calamity.” She puffed warm air across her top lip. “I’m looking forward to the autumn. This heat is unbearable. When will it cool down?”
“Just in time for reading week, I suspect. You’ve another month yet.” Isa moved her knight to take Sylvie’s queen. “At least we have the beach. Paris must be awful in the summer.”
Sylvie peeked over her oversized sunglasses. “Real Parisians don’t stay for the summer.”
“Makes sense.” Isa patted her sundress. “Are you taking on the new classes this term?”
“Paul asked me.” Sylvie scowled, recalling the strained conversation before the end of last semester. “But he’s more concerned with me finishing my book.”
“Mais oui. Mon amie, the published professor. How many books have you written now?”
“Soon to be five.” Sylvie frowned, the seed of doubt stirring inside. “If I can get to work.”
“I have every faith in you. You’re a winner at life, Sylvie.” Isa took the king with a flourish. “Except in chess. Checkmate.”
The waiter appeared from nowhere and relieved them of their empty glasses. “Can I get you another?”
“I shouldn’t really. I have some work to do.” Sylvie tapped a cigarette on the cast iron table and made to leave, dismissing the waiter with a nod.
“Oh, come on, you may as well settle in for the afternoon.” Isa adjusted her wide-brimmed sun hat and held out her hand. “We’re playing in the sunshine with fine wine flowing. I’ll make a southerner of you yet.”
The beautiful white stone of the old buildings flanked them on four sides.
Relaxed locals weaved through the cafés on their gentle meander across town.
It was nothing like the grey business of a September in Paris.
On days like these, Sylvie wondered whether she could make this city her forever home.
“I’m not so sure. Another year rounding up eighteen-year-olds and I might have a change of heart. ”
“It’s your heart that’s the problem. I think you left a piece of it back in Paris.”
The memory of her last kiss flooded Sylvie’s mind.
Paris had been warm and crowded that day, but the kiss had been cold and empty.
She and Armelle dated for a few weeks, but it was nothing serious.
Armelle had grown clingy and intolerable, eventually giving Sylvie an ultimatum: all in or call it.
Sylvie hadn’t given it a second thought.
She had no desire to overcomplicate life with co-dependence on another human, and with no relationship and a stalled career, there really had been a diminishing list of things keeping her in the capital.
Two months later, she’d seen the chance for a transfer to Montpellier and the promise of a new start.
“No, my heart is very much here, along with the rest of me. I left Paris for the taste of something new and that’s what I got.
” Sort of. The past year had been more of a simple entrée than a full plat du jour, but she was hopeful that promotion was on the menu this year.
With that came status and connections. She yearned for international travel and the chance to share her work with a global audience.
Another couple walked past: two stylish women hand in hand. Sylvie met Isa’s stare. “Okay, so I haven’t quite nailed a love life, but casual dating isn’t for me.”
“You can’t expect some intellectual beauty to come walking into your lecture room and throw themselves at your feet. You might need to do some of the leg work. You should put yourself out there.”
Sylvie cringed. She’d say the same to her single friends. “I don’t want to bare my soul on the internet. ”
“Your soul has nothing to do with it. It’s your smile people are interested in, among other things.”
Sylvie’s cheeks flared with heat. “Such as?”
Isa’s laugh rang out. “Your fine wit.”
Sylvie didn’t feel very witty right now, or attractive. Sweat pooled at her armpits, and she regretted the choice of fibers this morning.
“Seriously, just have some fun,” Isa said. “Try not to close down every possibility, and you never know who might walk into your life when you least expect it.”
“I’ll think about it. For now, I need shade and water. Until next time.” She kissed Isa three times on the cheeks and turned into the glare of the sun.
Seeking out the narrowest, shadiest streets, Sylvie strolled slowly to exert the least amount of energy possible.
A hush fell over the city as Sunday afternoon stretched toward the evening, and everyone enjoyed the lull before the storm of the nightlife.
This place rarely stilled. There was always someone enjoying themselves somewhere.
But on a Sunday, or early in the morning before dawn, Sylvie found time to catch her breath.
She paused at the Place St Roch and sat on the steps of the church, in the welcome shadow of the tall, impressive building. She looked up to the drawn shutters of her apartment, grateful she’d had the foresight to block out the afternoon sun and save herself from a stifling return home.
She’d slowed down here, in the heat of the south.
It was nothing like the frenetic pace she’d kept up in Paris.
Sometimes, she even had time to hear her thoughts and wonder.
What did she want now she’d accepted a permanent job at the university?
Was the city home? Except Isa and a couple of colleagues, there was no one to come home to. No one to share her day with.
Her mind drifted to her parents’ smallholding along the coast near Sète. Each year that passed, they worked their little plot together, turning another vegetable bed over to rest. She smiled, the taste of her mother’s cassoulet stirring in her memory .
She’d visit as soon as she could. Isa was right: the summer had passed all too quickly, and she wasn’t quite ready for the return to a timetable which meant her balmy late nights would be curtailed until at least the reading week.
“Sylvie, I’ll see you tonight?” Colette waved from her café across the square.
“Maybe. Save me something nice just in case.” She smiled. The prettiest around, Colette’s place was nestled between a launderette and a crêperie, its bottle-green doors flanked by hanging baskets of little flowers tumbling down the stone wall.
“Okay, come down when you wake up from your nap.” Colette washed down another table ready for the evening service. She worked like a horse, all day and night.
“I will do. It’s been a hard day at the office.
” Sylvie laughed and shrugged off the post-wine haze.
The guilt of not making progress on her book lingered like the smell of rainy drains.
She hadn’t worked hard enough this summer.
The sands of time had fallen through her hands as she’d laid on the beach at Palavas, the waves lapping gently at the Mediterranean shore.
But she’d be back at it tomorrow, and nothing was going to get in the way of keeping that publishing advance.
This year, she’d be more productive than ever and show the university bigwigs that she deserved her place at the top table. She’d earned it. Hadn’t she?