Chapter Seven
Three days later, Olivier and I were off to Paris. He’d tried calling this antiques dealer he’d sold his mother’s beloved clock to, but the number had been disconnected. Despite our best efforts at Googling contact info, all we had was an address in Paris for a tiny antiques shop that might not even still exist.
Olivier had assured me he’d take care of booking the flights. Although I’d agreed to him financing this trip, I’ll admit, I’d expected that it would involve him paying for gas as we traveled to and from Dublin, not flying to f*****g Paris! I’d told him that I’d find the money for the flight. The last thing I wanted was to feel like I owed him something.
But before I’d booked my own ticket, Olivier came into the library to tell me, “I booked our tickets.”
My face t
