Lost in Paris by Elizabeth Thompson (ebook smartphone .txt) 📕

Naturally, one of the big reasons Emma and I get on so well is our mutual love of literature. That’s why she started her tour company, whose tagline is “Why just read a book when you can live it?” Of course, it has expanded to include nonliterary tours, but the heart and soul of Heart to Heart remains the tours that feature books and authors.

“No big deal—you inherited an apartment in Paris, and your great-grandmother used to hang out with the expats.” She laughs as if she can hardly believe it. I understand her reaction. I still haven’t fully wrapped my mind around it.

“I don’t have definitive proof, but she says so in these diaries. And it’s not like she’s saying, ‘Oooh, look at me with Ernest Hemingway. I’m so cool.’ She writes about them as if she’s just met them and doesn’t realize who she’s with. Of course, at that time, she wouldn’t have understood because they weren’t legends yet.”

“What year is this?” Emma lowers her head and looks at the page for a clue.

“Look at the outside of the diary. It says 1927.”

She flips the cover over, runs her finger across the embossed numbers.

“So, by 1927, Hemingway would have already published The Sun Also Rises. He was pretty well-known in his circle but was still trying to make a name for himself as a writer.”

“That was around the time that he was divorcing Hadley and marrying Pauline.”

“Hannah, this is crazy,” Emma says as she continues to scan the diary’s pages.

“That’s not the half of it.” I tell her about the clipping of Andres Armand and the manuscript we discovered. “I have no idea if it’s the real deal, but the law firm that’s assisting us with the legalities of inheriting the apartment helped us locate a scholar who is looking over the manuscript to see if he can authenticate it.”

Emma continues to read for a moment. Then she looks up at me. “Please tell me you’re not intending to leave and move to Paris permanently.”

I shrug. “Honestly, Emma, I have no idea what I’m doing next. My mother wants to stay in the apartment. She doesn’t have a history of being the most practical person in the world. I don’t know what she’ll face when it comes to obtaining visas—and we have the small matter of inheritance tax to contend with—but one of the first things that she and I have agreed on in a long time is that we can’t let go of this apartment. I mean, she wanted to hang on to it from the start, but I’m realizing how important it is to keep it in the family.”

Of course, I haven’t admitted this to Marla yet because I’m trying to manage both of our expectations.

“I don’t blame you,” Emma says. “I would feel the same way if I were in your position.”

All of a sudden, I’m gripped by a crazy idea. Before I can even think it through, I hear myself saying, “I’m not sure if this would work out or if it’s even something you’d be interested in, but what if we expanded Heart to Heart into the Paris market? What if we offered an interwar, expat tour? You know, Hemingway, Zelda and Scott, the whole Gertrude Stein and Sylvia Beach shebang?”

Emma squints at me for a moment. I can see the wheels turning in her mind. “What exactly are you thinking?”

“I’m sort of flying by the seat of my pants here,” I say. “But think about it. Paris in the twenties and thirties was a crazy time. It was such a rich period of literary history. I think the Parisian expat circle would make for a great tour.”

Emma pauses for a moment and then nods. “Hannah, you did a stellar job developing the Jane Austen tour division of Heart to Heart. If anyone can lead the charge into Paris, it’s you.” She waves her hand as if to give me the green light. “We need to figure out the basics and get permits and such, but Hannah, this is bloody brilliant. We’ll need to bring someone on to take over your Austen tours, but besides that, I need to know that you’re ready to relocate to Paris.”

“I am.”

I am?

“I guess I need to put together a game plan,” I say.

My head is spinning.

Twenty minutes and lots of logistics later, Emma walks out with me to meet Marla, who has abandoned the Austen excursion brochure for one that features a tour of celebrity homes in the Greater London area. I’m not surprised.

“That one seems right up your alley,” I say after I introduce her to Emma.

“Yeah, it looks fun,” she says, sounding a little preoccupied. I’m glad because it means she’s not peppering Emma with questions and embarrassing stories. “This tour wasn’t running today,” Marla says. “Otherwise, I would’ve taken up Violet on her offer.”

“It’s a good one,” Emma says. “Come back any time and we’ll get you on it. On the house. Lovely to meet you, Marla, but I must run and make some phone calls.”

Em’s excited smile tells me the calls will be all about the Paris project.

“May I keep this?” Marla calls to Violet, who is on a phone call, and holds up the brochure.

Violet nods and gives her a thumbs-up as we head out the door.

“It looks like you and Violet became fast friends,” I say.

“We did. She’s nice. She turned me on to this tour after she saw me reading Hello! and the Daily Mail. Emma seems nice, too.”

When we’re in the elevator and on the way down, Marla opens the brochure and points to something. “Look at this.”

I lean in and see she’s pointing to stop number five on the tour, the home of British musician Martin Gaynor. I have no idea why I’m supposed to care.

“I can get you on that tour tomorrow if you’d like to go.”

“Nah.” Marla laughs and then sighs as she looks at the brochure. “You don’t