Joan watched her two granddaughterâs flutter happily around the tourist hot spot that was the Shakespeare and Company bookshop in Paris, France. The youngest, Elle, carefully selecting which books would travel home with her, having saved all of her souvenir money for this shop. She said it was her goal and dream, to be one of the boarders who lived here across the Seine river from the Notre Dame, working in the book shop to earn her lodging, and write amongst likeminded creatives. The older granddaughter, Esther, was bored out of her mind in the old cramped bookstore. She had her shopping moment in Paris just before this, picking up new shoes and finding herself a beautiful shawl with an embroidered peacock that draped down her shoulder, the tail feathers sprawling down her back. She wore it out of the shop, not wanting to delay her joy with the new garment. Now she stood with her shoulders tall while browsing the shelves with little interest.
Elle must have had at least six books in her arms at this point, and Joan walked to her granddaughter.
âCan I hold some for you? So you can keep looking.â Joan asked the young girl.
âSure but help me remember the tally on these is at fourty-three euro.â Elle said handing her grandmother the stack of novels.
âYou got it. Is your mom still outside?â Joan asked, wondering if her daughter had made an appearance.
âShe is still outside having a smoke,â Esther grumbled disapprovingly. She had wanted to take photos inside the bookshop but got chided by an employee since that was forbidden. It had soured her mood, being unable to take selfies with her new fashion piece in the iconic location.
âLucky, I should have stayed behind with her. Now Iâm a pack mule!â Joan teased, smirking at Elle.
âYou asked! Now if I get this one, that would make my total⌠shit, did I say forty-seven or forty-two?â Elle asked her grandmother.
Joan looked slightly confused down at the pile of books in her arms.
âDoesnât matter, you realize you have to fly home with all these? We have a weight limit on the luggage remember.â Esther chided.
âAh yes, but I can take these in my carry-on.â Elle grinned proudly at her workaround.
âForty-five, thatâs what you said.â Joan finally said, offering the stack back to Elle. âWhere is your mother again?â Joan asked, repeating her earlier question.
âOutside having a smoke,â Esther repeated, trying not to show her frustration at her grandmotherâs failing memory.
âI think Iâll go join her if youâve got this,â Joan said as Elle took the books back. She was already headed forward the exit so Elle signaled with a head nod to her older sister to follow after their grandma.
âIâll go too, Iâm not getting anything.â Esther said loudly for Joan to hear, taking her grandmotherâs arm in her own and leading them out a side exit.
Elle happily trotted to checkout and upon hearing she had two extra euros to her 50 euro budget, tossed in two postcards she could use as bookmarks. She was eager for the day ahead, more shopping, and even more exciting, lunch up next at a pastry shop.
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