The Little Antique Shop Under The Eiffel Tower. Rebecca Raisin

tutted. “We’re not the same, Anouk. I could never be as sweet of heart as you! I chose to remain single because I couldn’t commit to one person. But it isn’t easy. There are plenty of times when I wonder if I made a huge mistake with some of the men I’ve loved and let go. Maybe I would have enjoyed love, after the dizzying novelty of that first rapture faded and was replaced with something more fulsome? Truer, deeper? But I never gave it a chance. And that might have been a huge mistake…”

      Madame Dupont had never spoken this openly with me about her love life. “Do you really regret it, Madame, or do you just think it’s what I need to hear?” I couldn’t see Madame Dupont as lonely, even now, men flocked to her, but maybe she did crave that more solid love, one that had longevity.

      She took some time to answer. “Regret is such a miserable word. But there have been plenty of times alone, where I wished I took the risk and gave someone my heart, and not just a sliver of it. After one stumble you’ve pulled the shutters down. Closed up shop. I’m just saying, don’t waste your life protecting your heart, or you’ll get to the end of it, and realize it wasn’t worth it.” Her words poured out with so much melancholy, it was hard to know what to say, and whether she truly meant me, or if something had happened to make her so forlorn.

      Speaking gently, I said, “I see, Madame, I really do. But I’m not ‘closed for business’ I’m just not interested, and there’s a big difference.”

      A laugh escaped her. “Listen to me, having an elderly moment. Forget it, Anouk, I don’t know what came over me. Some days, my life flashes before me in the blink of an eye, until I get to the scenes I wish I could change, and they play over again and again, until I can’t see straight. Promise me though, you’ll stop pouring every ounce of yourself into work. Save a part of your life for something else.”

      “I promise, Madame Dupont.”

      I hoped to ease her anxiety, but really, without work, what else was there? I was grateful work kept me moored to this place.

      “And you owe it to that man to go to the gala and have some fun with him. He earned it after dealing with that pig Joshua.”

      I smiled at the memory. “Oui, I will, Madame. It’s not often someone reads Joshua so well. It was like he had heard about him already, or he knew what to watch for. Joshua backed down pretty quickly. I think he was intimidated by Tristan…” And that was a first.

      When we wrapped up our chat Elliot from the wine bar had found a selection of goods and had them lined up along the front counter. “What can you tell me about these?” he asked, settling on a stool.

      “For that we’ll need coffee!” I smiled and went to brew a pot, returning with everything on a tray.

      Most of my customers spent hours in the shop, carefully selecting pieces and then making their choice after hearing their stories. It was the highlight of my day when I could impart the histories of each antique and watch the customer’s eyes widen when something resonated with them and the decision was made, as if by someone else.

      “So this one –” I pointed to a golden French gilded mirror with cherubs “– is a Louis Phillipe, circa 1890, and once hung in the boudoir of…”