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Notes: Thea Rogers works like a dog.
She rarely dates.
If she has a day off, she’s either at her parents’ farm helping out or curled up alone on her couch bingeing shows about other people having lives.
Nothing in her life is exceptional except for being a baker.
Life is passing Thea Rogers by.
And if she continues on this track, she’s going to end up alone, with nothing but bread and croissants to keep her company, which will probably make her fat.
Conclusion: Thea Rogers is sick of herself and her life.
Cure: Thea Rogers needs a life makeover. Bad.
She wanted to cover the words with her hands to make them less overwhelming, but maybe she needed the reminder. Her boring but reliable life was gone. It felt freeing but terrifying, and now that she was here in Paris, she had no idea what she was going to do with herself beyond offering some comfort to Nanine. Nausea steamrolled her, so she sucked in several slow breaths of Parisian air. The faint scent of freshly baked bread helped her straighten her spine.
Being back here with no return ticket was a curveball, no doubt. But it could also be a gift—a chance to reinvent herself and her life. In Paris, where everything had changed for her once before. It could happen again.
She grabbed a pen as a phrase came to mind and wrote it on the next blank page in her journal.
Recipe for:Living Life to the Fullest
That would be her new recipe, she decided, especially since Nanine’s heart attack had shown her just how short life could be. She was going to use her time here to become the person she really wanted to be, the one she’d originally written about. Not the boring play-it-safe nice girl from Nowheresville she’d returned to being.
Because here was a truth that both terrified and thrilled her: she planned on staying. She had a terrific résumé, didn’t she? And she’d brought her essential tools of the trade so she could give a potential employer a demo of her abilities: her sourdough starter named Doughreen (God, she was such a geek), her broken-in pastry cloth, and her well-washed pink apron with a croissant and heart on its lapel.
Once Nanine was back on her feet, Thea would find a job. Yep, absolutely, she thought, nodding to a pigeon who stopped in front of her, hoping for food. He looked a little starved like she was, so she nudged a bread crumb on the ground his way. Bread has a way of making you feel better, she wanted to tell him.
Thea heard her phone trill in her purse, prompting the pigeon to fly off. She cringed as the two Parisian women glared at her for herfaux pas. She jumped up immediately, almost knocking the table over, and darted across the pedestrian street to take the call. Digging through her remaining snacks in her purse, she pulled out her phone. Brooke!
“Hi there! I’m at Café Fitzy’s trying to get a coffee. Where are you?”
“Hey, sweetie! I’m running a little late. I had an interview with one of the hottest new fashion designers in Paris when I arrived. I set it up at the last minute because I got here before everyone else and couldn’t bear the thought of sitting alone in Nanine’s. I’m so glad you stopped at Fitzy’s.”
Thea caught a dagger-eyed look from a waiter when he came out and gestured pointedly to her luggage. “I had to pee, but I might never get a coffee. I reek of tourist.”
“Typical, but you can turn that around. Look the waiter in the eye and say, ‘Excuse me, sir. Is Antoine here today?’”
Then Brooke repeated it in perfect French. Thea couldn’t imagine pulling that off. Her French sounded like a dying tractor engine coated in rust. “Maybe I should just leave money for a coffee on the table.”
“You just arrived in Paris for the first time in eight years. Follow my directions! You’ll get your coffee.”
Her journal’s helpful hint about following directions came to mind, and for the first time since before she’d heard the news about Nanine, she felt her mouth twitch. Brooke loved to boss people around, and Thea sometimes liked it. It felt like her friend was the rudder in her boat. She’d need Brooke’s help now more than ever to become the Thea she wanted to be.
“Okay, Brooke. I’ll try.”
“And pump Antoine for information about Nanine. The doctor said she refuses to talk to anyone until we’re all here and together. I’m scared, Thea.”
Suddenly she could use that comforting bread crumb on the ground herself. “We all are.”
“Yeah.” Silence hung over the line for a moment before she pressed, “How are youreally? You must be going out of your mind about quitting your job.”
Her stomach quivered, but she decided to give a spunky comeback. Spunky comebacks were for girls trying to turn their lives around, weren’t they? “This is the best thing that could have happened to me. Not that I wanted Nanine to ever—”
“Oh, Thea, I know that. But are you seriously telling me you haven’t cried? I know you. Not once?”
