had been to send out those cold emails after so many years and to have the responses start pouring in.
“Wait. Your Gargoyles and Medallions blog? That’s great. You really had something there, it was sad when you let it go. It was growing so fast, you could have monetized it.”
“I know. I got so caught up in the soulless competition of working for the architectural firm, thinking I could make a difference that way, I forgot the passion that got me into architecture in the first place.” I had Xavier to thank for waking me up to that. “I’m doubling down on doing what I love.” Then I rattled off the titles of the next five niche topics I planned to write about regarding foreign influences on classic architecture by country.
“I have no idea what you just said, kinda zoned out there, but it sounds great.”
“It just means I’ll be focusing a lot more on my interests. And if, big if, I happen to visit France one day again or anywhere else in Europe, I’ll be doing so for legitimate research purposes. And maybe I can even consult on building projects that are trying to conform to local architectural ordinances or aesthetics. Wherever the projects may be.”
Meredith glanced at me sidelong, and I could sense her biting her tongue. Instead, she squeezed my arm to her side. “Great. I’m happy for you.”
We approached the corner to our street, and I fished in my purse for the keys to the apartment. My phone vibrated, and I pulled it out. I had three missed calls and a voicemail from an unknown number. “Ugh,” I said. “Someone trying to sell me a warranty on that car I don’t own.”
I handed Meredith my keys and swiped over to the voicemail page where a message was transcribed. Josie, set stuffing. Silty play. Unable to transcribe remainder of message.
“Weird,” I said aloud to Meredith. Then I stopped still. Silty play? S’il te plait?
“What is it? Are you coming up?” Meredith stood holding the door open.
“Um. I think … I think Dauphine just left me a message. I can’t tell.”
“Listen to it then. Did you give her your number?”
“I did. I told her she could call me anytime.”
Meredith stared at me, her eyebrows raised expectantly. “As much as I like to stand on street corners …”
“Sorry.” I shook my head. We went inside and I pressed play and held the phone to my ear as we took the narrow carpeted stairwell up to our third floor apartment. Sure enough it was Dauphine’s voice, thick with tears and whispering. “Josie. It is Dauphine. S’il te plait, please you call me. I am so sad. I had a very bad dream. And I am awake. S’il te plait?”
“Oh, God.” I put my hand to my chest. “It is Dauphine. She woke up from a bad dream. I’m going to call her back.”
“So no Taye Diggs for you?”
“Start without me?”
Meredith rolled her eyes with a knowing smirk. “Fine.”
“What was that look for?”
“Nothing, Josie. You go and call back the daughter of the guy you’re in love with.”
I frowned. “Why is that bad? I—”
“It’s not. Go.” She shooed me into my bedroom and closed the door on me.
I stared at the wood, then walked to my bed and sat down. I looked up Dauphine’s contact where I’d saved it on my phone. Then I kicked off my shoes and waited as it rang.
Chapter Forty-Eight
My phone screen opened to darkness. “Allo?” a tiny voice answered.
“Dauphine? It’s me, Josie, calling you back.”
There was a squeal and some rustling. She was obviously in bed. “Josie!” The brightness of the tablet she held gently lit her soft features. I looked at my watch, it was around two in the morning there. “Are you okay? You said you had a bad dream.”
“Oui. But now I do not remember.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I must be quiet.”
“Yes, um, why do you have your iPad in bed?” I knew her father didn’t like her sleeping with her electronics in her room.
“I took it from Papa’s room while he was sleeping.”
I tutted a gentle reprimand. “So, you woke up from a bad dream and went to your father’s room, but you didn’t wake him up?” My eyebrows were raised.
“Non. I wanted to talk to you. I wish you were here, Josie. I miss you so much.”
I pressed and released my lips, a hand coming to my chest. “I miss you too, sweetheart. Where are you right now?