Thrill Me

May stooped to get the shears still on the edge of the herbal bed and held them out. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“Of course you can.” Clarissa tucked the shears into her basket and slung it over her arm. “I met a man in Paris, in 1958, when I was studying at the Sorbonne. Jean-Jacques. We arranged to meet for a week in a hotel on Corsica and he never showed. I met another man at the hotel, a Mr. Wisely, a new widower, a wonderful and very special lover. We had a splendid week together, and I sent all the bills to Jean-Jacques.”

“He paid?”

“Of course. He owed me.” She winked and May could well imagine how men had flocked around her—and probably still did. “Turned out Jean-Jacques had a wife who had other plans for him that week. That happens, you know. Quite frequently.”

She gave May a significant look, and the lightbulb finally went on in May’s naive too-trusting brain. Of course. The last little bit of fantasy excitement for the planned week crumbled like the dirt of the garden. “Trevor is married.”

Clarissa put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Most of Trevor’s…friends knew and didn’t mind. But I had a feeling you didn’t and would.”

“Yes.” A classic understatement. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’ve been very indiscreet, the hotel management would be furious with me. But we women must stick together.”

May smiled and took a step back, wondering how to say politely that she needed to get the heck out of here because she had to hit something.

“Go. Go ahead, I understand.” Clarissa made a shooing motion with her free hand. “You’ll feel better when you’ve had a good cry or whatever you need to do. Then pick yourself up and have the time of your life. It’s waiting for you here this week, don’t waste it.”

“Thank you.”

“And come see me anytime, dear.” Her eyes warmed and crinkled into a smile. “I take care of all the plants in the hotel, so if you need a friendly face or someone to talk to, just ask anyone and they’ll find me.”