That was the last letter I wrote. Life had gotten so busy at the bakery I just couldn't find the time. I was an actual chef now, making my career in the culinary arts, and my schedule was jam packed.
(Like my pastries! Ha ha!)
I was thinking about finding an apartment of my own, or enrolling in university. I was thinking about whether I wanted to remain a chef, or find another job. I was even thinking about going to China or Egypt, just to see something different.
The last thing I was thinking about was romance. But I suppose that's the sort of thing that comes along when you least expect it, and when you're not really looking. A lot of my friends were filling out profiles online, or going on dates to the coffee shop. They were having no luck. But there we were, window shopping on the way home from work, when I stumbled right into the love of my life.
"Claudia! Voyez-vous? Sont magnifiques!"
"Oui, super," I replied absently, playing with my phone, and not really paying attention. Dresses had never been my preference, and I didn't like clothes shopping anyway. But the bells on the door were already tinkling as my friends pulled it open, exclaiming over the new silk scarves from Paris, and the shoes with the bright red soles. I sighed, and tucked my phone away. "Allez!" I called out. "Go on. I don't need anything. And I should get home to cook dinner."
They replied with the usual sighs for my lack of interest in fashion, then disappeared among the racks of skirts and blouses as I started down the street. But before I could pull out my phone again, my eyes were drawn to the windows of the next shop in line. They were full of bright gems and strange bottles; twisted wood and round globes of quartz. And behind the displays, I thought I caught sight of something I hadn't seen since I was a child.
I hesitated, knowing I needed to get home, but the shop was so odd, and so intriguing, I found myself pulled inside by my own curiosity. It was quiet, like a different world from the bustling street I'd just left. The colors were dark but glamorous, and the interior was scented with a distinctive aroma of old, dusty paper and exotic, earthy perfume. The floorboards creaked with what seemed to be a peculiarly charming antiquity. And among the odd bits and baubles my attention was drawn by the soft chime of the longcase grandfather clock at the side of the store, which was just striking the hour with a musical chord.
"Bonsoir, mademoiselle, et bienvenue a la boutique."
"Oh! " I was so intent on the intricate mechanism that I didn't hear the shopkeeper approach. When he spoke, I jumped.
He smiled. "My apologies for startling you. It's a lovely sound, isn't it?"
"It is," I replied, blinking back at him. He had the most lovely brown eyes behind his tortoise shell glasses, and it took me a moment to focus on anything else. Eventually, I noticed he was dressed in an old-fashioned suit and waistcoat, complete with a slightly tarnished pocket watch. "The whole clock is lovely. But I came in to see the..." My sentence trailed off as behind him, a young woman walked by wearing what looked like a witch's costume. I blinked again, just as startled. "What kind of shop is this?"
He smiled again, apparently used to confusion. "We call ourselves an alchemy shop," he said, then leaned in as if to tell me a secret. "In truth we just sell some dusty old antiques, along with a few movie props, or magic tricks… things like that. But 'Alchemist' sounds more exciting. So my father has us dress up for the tourist trade." He winked.
Of course he knew I wasn't a tourist. It was easy enough for one local to pick out another just by dress or accent. "Your father... Oh! You must be Pascal Morel!" Monsieur Morel -- the elder one -- was well known throughout the town as a merchant to the tomb exploration teams. He was able to sell them all manner of ridiculous things, from 'Sultan's Tents' to showers in a can, and even 'magic dust.' Of course he'd open a more permanent shop, and of course it would sell 'alchemy' products. His son looked much like him, but luckily without the same wily smirk.
"Guilty as charged," Pascal replied, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "But please don't hold it against me."
I smiled again, completely taken in by his charm. "I'm Claudia," I replied. And I won't, but only if you can tell me where
this came from." I walked him over toward the item I'd seen from the window, and up close it was even more perfect than I had thought, from the carvings on its pedestal to the gilded writing on the cover of its giant parchment tome.
"Ahhh," Pascal sighed, running a hand along the rustic wooden table. "You have excellent taste. This is one of our highest quality reproductions. I made it myself, actually, from the exact specifications in the Ajri series. The books are very detailed, you know, and --"
"The what?" I spun around to stare at him, wide-eyed. "Did you say Ajri?"
"Of course." He seemed perplexed. "I thought you must be a fan, if you recognized Ybeline's Elixir Station."
I could barely contain myself as I heard the name Ybeline. "No! I mean, yes I know what it is, but I had one as a child, in my basement! My grandfather used to tell me these stories! He told me all about Ajri! Lord Mithren and Lady Ybeline, and Jaffaran and Savna, and Meridel and Nella--"
"Nella is my favorite!" Pascal cried, practically bouncing with enthusiasm.
"Mine too!"
We both sighed simultaneously, me thinking of my grandfather, and he thinking of his favorite childhood books. His was a happy sigh, and mine a wistful one. Pascal tilted his head with concern.
"I'm sorry. It's just that I miss my grandfather. The stories were all so real when he told them -- like they were his own friends and relatives. But he never read from a book, he just told me the stories. " I shrugged with one shoulder and a sad little smile. "He used to say we were all den'Rhelys heirs. He even had a horse once, named Astanal, that I remember seeing pictures of. He always made me feel like a princess. Lady Claudia…"
"AH!" Pascal held up a hand, his mouth hanging open. "AH HA!" He pointed at me, then back at the elixir station, and then back at me. "Lady Claudia!"
Taking me by the arm, he steered me toward the back of the shop, babbling excitedly as we went. "Of course, of course, of course. Of course. But where is it? Where, where, where? Here! No. Yes!" He was running his finger over the titles of the books in one of the shelves behind the counter, and eventually hooked one by the spine to pull it from its place.
He ruffled past the first few pages, then adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat and quoted the dedication: "To my granddaughter, Lady Claudia. Nothing is lost if you find it. Now how do you greet your elders? Like a den'Rhelys heir." He snapped the book shut, and held it out to me with the back cover facing up. There was a picture of my grandfather smiling back at me.
I reached out to touch it, disbelieving. "But how... Where did you... When did he write books?"
"You really didn't know? He wrote the trilogy before you were born, most likely. This last one came long after the others. Maybe ten years ago? No." He checked the cover. "Eleven."
I took hold of the book and held it tightly as I stepped back around the counter. "I had no idea," I said, still amazed by this turn of events. "We left Aurora Skies when I was very young, and I never saw him after that. I wrote letters, but he never replied. I thought he forgot about me."
"Lady Claudia," Pascal chastised me gently. "No one could forget about
you."
I looked up to find him beside me, smiling shyly as our eyes met.
I smiled back, just as shyly. "You're flirting, Monsieur Morel."
"Perhaps."
I laid the book on the counter and started to reach for my wallet, but Pascal immediately shook his head and waved away the cashier.
"No, no. A gift," he said. "Please."
"I'm not sure your father would approve of you giving the merchandise away for free."
"True," he acknowledged with a wry smile. I could see the cashier nodding in agreement. "So we'll make a deal instead. In exchange for the book, you promise to meet me tomorrow at the café, and tell me what you think."
My heart was fluttering as I found myself once again staring into his lovely brown eyes. "It's a deal," I said.
