grandparents gone, Anna felt alone, truly alone, for the first time in her life. The day following Monique’s departure, she and Paris took a long, rambling walk along the beach.
She sat down on a wooden bench, took off her straw hat, and watched the clouds billowing over the ocean. A seagull swooped down and landed next to her bench. The graceful bird balanced on one webbed foot as it looked at her first with one sharp eye and then the other. The two of them stared at each other until the bird flew off. She watched it as it took wing directly into the wind, soaring far out over the ocean, gliding in a wide circle with its wings spread, then flapping wildly in ascent, to be carried along on a second cross-wind. Chee! Chee! Chee! She heard its cries rise and fall across the water as she finally lost sight of it in the haze over the long stretch of coastline. She tried to imagine the absolute feeling of freedom it would be to be able to take to the air like that.
Rejected by her mother as a baby, Anna had grown up to be tough and self-reliant. Her grandparents had raised her. When she was five, her mother had died of a drug overdose, and she never was told anything about who her father was, despite the many times that she had asked her grandparents. Now, because of a terrible accident, she had some information that haunted her. She knew her father was dead, but was there a family somewhere? She had a name, Diamanté, and a nationality, Corsican. A grandfather. Where are you?
Anna had grown up longing to do something interesting with her life. Creative and talented, she had further developed her storytelling ability through her high school years. Her first short story was published when she was a senior in high school. She published a short novel while studying English and French at UCLA. Once she had completed her undergraduate studies, she flew off to study for her graduate degree in Paris, a move that would transform her and profoundly affect how she lived her adult life. She adapted to the easygoing nonchalance of the French and lived a relatively carefree life as a student and writer in Paris in the 1980s. It was during that time that she had met and fallen in love with a young medical student whom she nicknamed C-C. She had not intended for the affair to be serious; he certainly had not, or she would have had a response to her letters. Anna closed her eyes as she leaned back and held her face up to absorb the warmth of the sun. She was back in Paris, standing for a moment looking up and down the rue Saint-Jacques. A sudden and deep feeling of loss flooded her entire being. C-C. Where are you?
“Where are you?” Mark’s voice, eerily echoing her thoughts, brought her back to the present. She opened her eyes.
“So, what’s the answer? What were you thinking so hard about just now?” Breathless and sweating from jogging along the shore-line, he flung a towel around his neck and plunked his appealing muscular frame down beside her. He stretched his powerful legs straight out in front of him, crossed his arms, and smiled. He had a handsome, boyish face, and his sandy hair was in disarray.
“My latest novel, I guess…” she lied.
“Hi, boy.” Mark tousled Paris’ big floppy ears. The man had definitely won over her dog. The golden retriever was up on his feet and responding with a wild wag of the tail.
“How about we go get a latte at Starbucks?”
“Okay…sure,” she nodded, smiling.
“By the way, there’s a package waiting for you at your door. I saw it when I was leaving.”
“Hmmm. I wasn’t expecting anything.”
“Ah well, then we have a mystery.” He leaned over, grinning, and nudged her with his arm. “Let’s go get that coffee first.”
An attorney in his midthirties, raised in Pacific Palisades in a wealthy Hollywood filmmaking family, Mark was what Anna referred to in her novels as the quintessential “Mister Perfect.” He had done his undergraduate work at the University of
She sat down on a wooden bench, took off her straw hat, and watched the clouds billowing over the ocean. A seagull swooped down and landed next to her bench. The graceful bird balanced on one webbed foot as it looked at her first with one sharp eye and then the other. The two of them stared at each other until the bird flew off. She watched it as it took wing directly into the wind, soaring far out over the ocean, gliding in a wide circle with its wings spread, then flapping wildly in ascent, to be carried along on a second cross-wind. Chee! Chee! Chee! She heard its cries rise and fall across the water as she finally lost sight of it in the haze over the long stretch of coastline. She tried to imagine the absolute feeling of freedom it would be to be able to take to the air like that.
Rejected by her mother as a baby, Anna had grown up to be tough and self-reliant. Her grandparents had raised her. When she was five, her mother had died of a drug overdose, and she never was told anything about who her father was, despite the many times that she had asked her grandparents. Now, because of a terrible accident, she had some information that haunted her. She knew her father was dead, but was there a family somewhere? She had a name, Diamanté, and a nationality, Corsican. A grandfather. Where are you?
Anna had grown up longing to do something interesting with her life. Creative and talented, she had further developed her storytelling ability through her high school years. Her first short story was published when she was a senior in high school. She published a short novel while studying English and French at UCLA. Once she had completed her undergraduate studies, she flew off to study for her graduate degree in Paris, a move that would transform her and profoundly affect how she lived her adult life. She adapted to the easygoing nonchalance of the French and lived a relatively carefree life as a student and writer in Paris in the 1980s. It was during that time that she had met and fallen in love with a young medical student whom she nicknamed C-C. She had not intended for the affair to be serious; he certainly had not, or she would have had a response to her letters. Anna closed her eyes as she leaned back and held her face up to absorb the warmth of the sun. She was back in Paris, standing for a moment looking up and down the rue Saint-Jacques. A sudden and deep feeling of loss flooded her entire being. C-C. Where are you?
“Where are you?” Mark’s voice, eerily echoing her thoughts, brought her back to the present. She opened her eyes.
“So, what’s the answer? What were you thinking so hard about just now?” Breathless and sweating from jogging along the shore-line, he flung a towel around his neck and plunked his appealing muscular frame down beside her. He stretched his powerful legs straight out in front of him, crossed his arms, and smiled. He had a handsome, boyish face, and his sandy hair was in disarray.
“My latest novel, I guess…” she lied.
“Hi, boy.” Mark tousled Paris’ big floppy ears. The man had definitely won over her dog. The golden retriever was up on his feet and responding with a wild wag of the tail.
“How about we go get a latte at Starbucks?”
“Okay…sure,” she nodded, smiling.
“By the way, there’s a package waiting for you at your door. I saw it when I was leaving.”
“Hmmm. I wasn’t expecting anything.”
“Ah well, then we have a mystery.” He leaned over, grinning, and nudged her with his arm. “Let’s go get that coffee first.”
An attorney in his midthirties, raised in Pacific Palisades in a wealthy Hollywood filmmaking family, Mark was what Anna referred to in her novels as the quintessential “Mister Perfect.” He had done his undergraduate work at the University of
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