Page 55 of Mountain Shadow

“Cédric Gallois, at your service. You may have listened to our radio station, perhaps?”

She shook her head. “Unfortunately not. Listening to the radio makes me feel homesick.”

“That, I fully understand,” Cédric beamed. “I can’t even listen to it when I’m on holiday, or else I just want to come right back.”

She laughed, feeling an unexpected kinship.

“Come, let me show you around,” he said, taking her hand in his.

Sarah turned to look at Jens. “Is that okay, Jens?”

He plopped down on the small faux-leather couch and pulled out his phone. “Sure. Take your time. I’ll wait out here.”

She followed Cédric through the first door. The studio beyond was smaller than any studio she’d seen in the last decade, but it was clean, tidy, and designed to make the most out of the small space.

Cédric sat at the mixing desk, propping his feet up like she’d done herself on countless occasions. Her throat dried up with jealousy.

What I wouldn’t give to go on air right now.

“Is it just you? How long have you been working here?”

“I started the station eight years ago. I’m the only full-time employee, but we have lots of volunteers who come in for different shows. Today, we have more listeners than we’ve ever had before.”

“Good. What kind of shows do you do?”

“We connect to the Annecy radio station to get the weather report every morning. I do a local news segment. The Chamonix vet has a section on pets and wildlife. In the afternoon, I interview local residents. When I need to rest my voice, I play music.“ He spoke fast, and Sarah suddenly realized the man was eager for her approval.

“Sounds brilliant.” And it did. In a way, it sounded even better than her own job. She had a program in a major radio station. This man faced a much bigger challenge.

“Have you ever interviewed Jens?” she asked.

Cédric shook his head. “I’ve tried, but he’s always said no. Maybe you can put in a good word for me.”

Sarah laughed. “I’ll do my best, but can’t guarantee anything. How did you two meet?”

Cédric rubbed his ankle ruefully. “I broke my ankle skiing off-piste. I couldn’t stand up—could barely crawl, I was in so much pain.”

“So you called the PGHM?”

“No. I didn’t have my phone with me.” He laughed. “I know. I was an idiot. But I was yelling so loudly, your friend, who was skiing in the area himself, heard me. It was getting dark, and he didn’t want to leave me there by myself, so he carried me down on his shoulders. I probably owe him my life.”

“And that’s why you agreed to let me come today?”

Cédric’s eyebrows arched into upside down v’s. “What do you mean? You’re Sarah Porter. The moment I heard you were in Chamonix, I wanted to meet you.”

Sarah looked down, half-embarrassed, the way she always was whenever somebody recognized her name.

“I promise I won’t tell anyone we met,” he continued. “Jens told me you’re sorting through some personal issues.”

“Thank you,” she said.

She stood up and touched the microphone gently, feeling its almost magnetic pull. A wave of homesickness hit her, so strong she had to lean against the desk.

“So. What do you think of our setup?” Cédric asked.

“I think it’s great,” she said honestly. She felt almost shy, suddenly. “I began in a small station myself.”

“You did?” Cédric said.