The Seven Turns of the Snail's Shell: A Novel by Mj Roë Read Free Book Online Page B

forever after. That is how Handee became one of the beautiful sculptures in the park near our house. The lesson to the story is to jump and sing with all your heart in whatever you do, and you will be rewarded because people will like you forever. The end.”
    “BRAVO! BRAVO!” Her grandfather and grandmother had clapped, and her grandfather had slapped his knee in appreciation. Anna bowed in front of them and kissed them each softly on the cheek.
    “Can I have an ice cream cone, Mama?” A small voice behind her brought Anna back to reality. Her grandparents were gone. Only their seaside chairs stared at the Pacific now, locked arm in arm like the companions they had been and would be forever in heaven. Anna turned to look back.
    “Not now, baby,” was the woman’s response as she walked along, holding the hand of a little boy. “It’s too close to dinner time.”
    “Can I have a puppy like that one?” was the little boy’s next request. Anna’s golden retriever, Paris, was sauntering along beside her. The dog gave a lick at the chubby finger as they passed in front of them. The mother smiled at Anna and hurried her little boy along.
    “Seems like everything is pink in California,” Monique pondered aloud.
    The late September sun was setting over the Pacific, shedding a pinkish light over everything in Laguna Beach—the white sand, the tile roofs, sprawling white driveways, and wide sidewalks. Everywhere, pink roses and pink bougainvillea looked as if they had chosen their colors from the sky. A gentle breeze off the ocean whipped the two women’s hair.
    “Monique, I really appreciate your staying for a while. It has helped with all the sorting out I have to do.”
    “I’m glad to be here. Unfortunately, I can stay only a few more days. What exactly will you do now?”
    “I don’t know. I have some unanswered questions in my life.” She hadn’t told Monique about Diamanté yet.
    “Oh, we aren’t over that yet, then?” Monique rolled her warm brown eyes, thinking it was C-C to whom Anna was referring.
    Anna looked at her directly. Monique’s impeccably made-up, fine-boned face and shell-like ears were glowing in the pinkish light. “It’s like when I was a little child and I dreamt that I found another room in our house by just opening a door. I have a door in front of me that, when I open it, will lead me into an unfamiliar room in my life.”
    “And what if that room, as you call it, brings still more pain?”
    “Then so be it, Monique.”
    “What about Mark, chérie ? You should give him a chance. Besides, I like him. I think he’s very handsome and so personable.”
    “Mark? He’s comfortable, but I’m not in love with him, remember?” She took off her dark glasses and looked at her friend. “Come on, Monique, you and I both know that until I see C-C again, I won’t be able to set up house with someone else. If I find out that he is married, or has a life of his own, I won’t interfere. I just need to know for sure.”
    Monique shrugged her shoulders. “My advice to you, my friend, is this: get C-C out of your system, once and for all. Forget him. Seize a life, as you Americans like to say.” She seemed to take a subtle pride in her new command of American slang.
    “You mean get a life, Monique,” Anna gently corrected her friend, smiling.
    They walked past several pieces of public art on display. The light had turned more bronze now, and the sun was right at the point where the smooth line of the water delineated the western horizon. In a moment it would drop below the surface and seem to disappear forever. Anna contemplated a garden snail chomping its way through a hibiscus plant. She was reminded of the Parisian waiter, his drawing of the arrondissements of Paris and the seven turns of the snail’s shell.
    “You are probably right, Monique. I’ll work on it.”
    “Promise?”
    “Promise.”
    Monique flew back to Paris at the end of the week.

CHAPTER 11
     
    W ith her