I feel a lot less nervous on my second trip to the restaurant, now that I know that Audrine is still here and I can successfully give her the letters like my grandpa wanted. I had a few days to relax by the pool at the hotel and explore the small town a little bit more, which also gave me some time to calm my nerves about this completely bizarre situation.

Today, when I arrive at the restaurant, there's nobody seated outside like there was the first time. I wonder why Audrine would even be here at the restaurant on a day that it's closed, I'm also curious about why this restaurant is the address that my grandpa wrote his letters to. I have a thousand questions that I want to ask her about my grandpa and his time here in France, I just hope I don't get nervous and forget all of them when I see her again.

Because the restaurant is closed, the front doors that I walked through the first time are now locked. When I pull on the handle, they don't budge at all. I stand there stupidly in front of the empty restaurant for a few minutes not knowing what I should do. Maybe find a back door? Or just knock on this one? I'm not sure if she would be able to hear me from the back of the restaurant if I just knock though.

As I'm just standing there trying to figure out the best approach, I hear a window opening up above me and then somebody saying, "Back so soon?" the young man that had greeted me the last time I was here pops his head out of the second floor window above me.

"I'm looking for Audrine," I tell him before wiping an embarrassing amount of sweat from my forehead.

"I figured," he says, and then motions to the left with his head and adds, "Come on up. There's a door on the side."

And then he disappears back inside. Clutching the box of letters by my side, I follow the path that wraps around the building to the left. As he said, there's a subtle brown door on the side of the building and when I turn the knob, it swings open. I'm immediately greeted by a narrow wooden staircase leading up, so I shut the door behind me and I start walking up the stairs.

At the top, I step into what seems to be a living room. A bright living room with white walls, light wooden floors, and a large mirror hanging over an intricately engraved fireplace.

"She went out to the market, but she should be back soon," the guy startles me a little bit when he speaks up, standing in the kitchen area to my right. I hadn't noticed him there as I was too busy taking in my surroundings. I wasn't expecting to walk into a living space, maybe a restaurant kitchen or storage, but not this.

"Okay," I say awkwardly, not really sure what I should do at this point. I don't know who this guy is, and I'm not good at making small talk, so I just stand in the doorway as awkwardly as one could.

As I'm standing there, I grow more and more aware of how messy I must look. So sweaty that I can feel my baby hairs sticking to my forehead, probably sunburnt from all the time I've spent out at the pool these past few days. I hadn't put much effort into my looks today, but standing here now, I wish that I reapplied my deodorant before coming, and maybe didn't wear my frumpiest pair of denim shorts that make me look kind of lumpy.

Because this guy standing near me right now is really attractive; as if he was the love child of young John Travolta and Orlando Bloom with David Beckham's physique. I wasn't really paying much attention when I met him the first time because I was so nervous, but now that I'm up close and he's not hiding behind a counter, I'm starting to get a little bit flustered.

"You can have a seat," he finally speaks up after what feels like an eternity for me, but what is probably just less than a minute of awkward silence. "I'll put on some coffee."

"Okay," I say again, and then take a seat at the round white dining table. I put the shoe box down and nervously wring my hands together on my lap. "How do you know Audrine?"

"I feel like I should be asking you that," the stranger says from the kitchen with a light laugh, and once the coffee is brewing, he joins me at the table and sits across from me.

"I don't really know her," I answer him, trying to look into his eyes but they're such a bright blue that it almost hurts to look at them, like trying to look into the sun. "Just have something to give her."

"What is it?" He wonders curiously, looking down at the box of letters. "Seems important."

"Yeah, I don't think I should say, she might want to keep it private," I tell him honestly.

"Sounds suspicious," he says. "But okay, I won't pry then. I'm Silas, by the way. Audrine is my grandmother."

"Oh," even though I had suspected that, it still surprises me because he sounds like he's from America.

"My dad is American," he says. I assume that he can sense my confusion because he goes on to explain more. "We lived there until my parents divorced when I was eleven, and we moved back here to help my mamé with the restaurant."

"So Audrine owns this place?" I question, which might be a stupid question to ask since we're sitting in the apartment above the restaurant, it makes a lot of sense that she owns it.

"She does," Silas confirms with a curt nod.

"It's very beautiful," I try to tuck some of my sweaty flyaways behind my ears in an attempt to look more presentable. I've always liked to think of myself as a fairly self confident person with soft features and a cute butt, yet when I'm sitting next to Silas, I feel like a baboon.

"Thank you," he responds to me just as the coffee finishes brewing so he gets back up. "This is American coffee, I was never able to kick the craving from living in the States. Do you want cream?"

"Sure, thanks," I respond and then wait until he's facing away from me to quickly try fixing my hair again without worrying about being subtle about it. I usually love having long hair and I've gotten used to maintaining it, but right now it's biting me in the ass, and I can feel the baby hairs flying around my head like a halo.

When he turns back around with two cups of coffee, I immediately drop my arms back to my lap and hope that he didn't notice me trying to fix my hair. "Can I at least get a hint at what's in that box?"

I'm trying to think of some kind of hint to give him without giving away too much, but I don't have to think of anything because I'm interrupted by the door opening behind me. I turn to see Audrine coming into the house.

"Hello, dear," she offers me a small smile as she comes in with paper bags hooked over both of her arms. Silas is quick to get up and help take the bags into the kitchen. "They had so many beautiful... ah... what's the word? Les courgettes."

"Zucchini," Silas gives her the English word for it. "Can we open this box now, mamé?"

"Why do you want to know what's in the box?" She asks him quizzically.

"Because this random American girl-- no offense-- just shows up at our door and you've been acting weird since she showed up, so the curiosity is killing me," he explains to her as he's putting away the fresh vegetables from the market bags.

"Okay, come with me. Both of you," she finishes up with the groceries and starts walking down the hallway away from the kitchen. Quickly, I stand with my fresh cup of coffee and start following her. Silas is right behind me to find out where she's leading us.

We walk through a door that looks like a closet but after peering in, I can see that it's a staircase going up to a third floor of the building. The third floor looks like it's used for storage, as there's boxes and old furniture strewn about chaotically. It's a huge contrast to the bright, neat living area that I was just in.

I continue to follow Audrine through to a second room where she stops and then starts pulling some junk off of one of the piles.

"I let Charlie use this room as a studio when he was here," she tells me, and then uncovers a stack of old canvases leaning against the wall. "He left some of his paintings here and I never had the heart to throw them out or sell them."

She pulls one of the canvases out and places it on an antique-looking table nearby so that we can look at it. It's amazing how quickly I can recognize his style of work, even though I never saw him paint all too often. He liked to paint impressionist paintings, taking a lot of inspiration from Claude Monet. Grandpa used a lot of the same techniques as Monet, and would also constantly talk about how he pioneered impressionist painting, refusing the teachings of other great painters to create his own way of doing things.

The picture that Audrine places in front of me is an abstract image of a meadow, and a girl standing in the middle of a patch of flowers. She's wearing a dress and as it twirls, it slowly blends into the flowers around her and the air, becoming part of the sky. It makes it look like the girl in the photo is embedded in the nature around her. I'm sure that this is inspired by Audrine.

I place my hand on the painting and I imagine my grandpa sitting in this exact room, painting this exact image on this exact canvas. It feels surreal that fifty seven years ago, he was just a little older than me, living this completely different life here in France, with Audrine. I feel like I'm there with him, or like he's here with me.

"How long did you know him?" I find myself asking, trying to focus on the conversation at hand so that I don't start crying.

"Just about three months," Audrine answers me. "He was staying in Nice with his family, I worked in the restaurant at the hotel they were staying in. That's how we met. His parents were here to do business, so they left Charlie alone most of the time."

"Is Charlie an ex, mamé?" Silas takes his turn to ask a question.

"From a long time ago," she says with a nod. "When he left to go back to America, I begged him not to. I could tell that he didn't want to go, but his parents wouldn't let him stay. Since he was the oldest of his siblings, he felt like he had a responsibility to take over their company, but promised that he would return when his brother was old enough to help out. I guess, perhaps, he was already married by then."

"He never seemed like he hated running the firm, but never seemed to love it either, and he was good at it," I say to her, still staring at the painting, and of the other paintings by the wall. "I guess by the time I came around, he was just used to it."

"I'm glad that he found success," Audrine sighs as she runs her fingers through her shoulder length gray hair. "I'm going to go downstairs. I think that I'd like to be alone to read those letters. You're more than welcome to have a look through everything. It's all cluttered, but there's still a lot of his things in here."

"Okay, I'd love to look around, thank you." She clearly looks a bit sad as she reminisces about the old days with my grandpa, and I wish that I could comfort her but I don't know her well enough to do so.

"Let me know if you need me, mamé," Silas says to her as she's leaving, obviously also being able to pick up on her sadness. She nods at him, but doesn't say anything else before leaving to go back downstairs.

When it's just the two of us, Silas asks me, "So there's letters in the box?"

"Yeah, letters that my Grandpa Charlie wrote to her after he got back to America. He thought that his parents were sending them, but they were stashing them away instead. He was already with my grandma when he found them, so he felt like it was wrong to stir things up and he never sent them. He died a few months ago and his dying wish was for me to bring them to her."

"Wow," he takes in the story and then says, "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," I say quietly, looking away from him to pull out more of the paintings from the wall. I'm waiting for him to leave while I shuffle through the clutter to see what I can find, but he doesn't leave.

When I pull out the second painting and place it on top of the first one, he says, "He was a really good painter."

"Yeah, he was. Painting with him are some of the best memories I have with him."

"There's a lot of stuff in here," Silas mentions. "Most of it is probably junk, but it's going to take a while to get through all of it. How long are you staying in town?"

"I can stay all summer, I have the hotel booked until August," I tell him as I'm looking at the second painting. This one looks like maybe a landscape view of this town. After I say that I can stay all summer though, I realize that it might sound like I'm inviting myself to stay here all summer with Audrine and Silas to talk about my grandpa and I suddenly feel like I'm imposing. "I mean, I might not stay that long. I don't want to invite myself where I'm not welcome or anything."

"If you think that you can find answers about your grandpa in here, you're welcome for as long as you need," he assures me.

"Thank you," I wonder why my grandpa ever left Ladaux when he seemed to love it so much, and loved Audrine so much. I know that he felt responsible to take over the business consulting firm that his father started, but if he loved Audrine enough to remember her for sixty years, why wasn't it worth it to tell his dad no, and to stay here with her? I know that he has two younger siblings, a brother and a sister, that I've only met a handful of times. I'm not sure how much older my grandpa was than his siblings, but surely his parents could have waited for his younger siblings to be ready to take control of the business.

And if he had planned on coming back to be with Audrine, why did he start dating my grandma? I wonder if he thought Audrine didn't love him back anymore, as he never got a response to his many heartfelt letters.

"It's really sad," I say out loud to Silas. "How they were so in love, but it just never came together right."

"Yeah, it's sad," he agrees. "But it's not the end-all. I don't know about your grandpa, but my mamé still lived a very happy life. She built this restaurant from the ground up, raised a family. Neither one of us would exist if they'd stayed together."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"If you want to come back tomorrow night, I'm not working dinner shift, so I can help you organize all this stuff some more," Silas offers me.

"That would be great. My mom is expecting a phone call soon to make sure I'm not dead, so I should get going soon anyway," I notice the time on my phone and realize that she's expecting my call in half an hour. "Thank you for your help, I really appreciate it."

"It's no problem. This is all pretty interesting to learn about, so I'm curious about all of this too," he tells me. "I'll show you back downstairs. Do you have a phone number? I could text you when I get done with work so you can come over."

"I've been using Skype, I don't know how to deal with my phone plan and international travel. I could give you my username?"

"Yeah, okay, that works," we start going downstairs. I know that he's only asking for my contact details to be nice and help me go through that cluttered room, but my cheeks still go red and I feel like a giddy school girl, until I remember what my username is. And that I have to say it out loud.

"It's uhhh," I trail off, feeling absolutely mortified that I have to give him my stupid username. "It's butt_smasher_69."

Silas starts laughing as he's putting the name into his phone.

"I made this account when I was twelve," I defend myself quickly as my cheeks go red.

"I'm not judging," he promises me, but his laugh does seem pretty judgmental. The subject is dropped after we get to the staircase.

Once we're downstairs, I see Audrine sitting at the table that I was sitting at earlier. She's reading one of the letters and when she sees us walking into the room, she puts the letter away and wipes her cheek. Clearly, she'd been crying.

"Everything okay?" Silas asks her.

"Yes," she says quickly before standing up from the table. "Are you heading out?"

"She's going to come back tomorrow," he answers for me.

"Thank you for the coffee," I say politely as I head toward the door.

Both Audrine and Silas say goodbye to me as I leave, walking myself down the stairs and out the side door that I came in through.

Once I get back to the hotel, I immediately call my mom. I'm already a few minutes late for my call, so I know that she's feeling a little bit panicked as it is. It's morning time for her in America and she wants me to call her before she goes off to work so that she can focus on our call instead

"Maisie," she answers quickly. "How are you?"

"I'm good," I answer her. "How are you?"

"Still worried," my mom admits to me with a long, drawn out sigh. "I miss you so much."

"I miss you too," I tell her as I'm pulling my hair out of my sweaty ponytail.

"What have you been up to today?"

"I met up with an old friend of Grandpa," I try to tell her as much as I can without really giving her the full story. "And I got to see some of the paintings he made while he was here."

"His paintings," she says with a little chuckle and then says, "My mother always hated those things."

"They're really good," I defend him.

"Yeah, they're nice to look at, but they're such a waste of time," she adds. "It would take him hours or days locked away by himself just to get one finished. And he never even sold them."

"I don't sell my paintings either," I remind her dryly, because by attacking my grandpa's hobby, she's also attacking mine.

"And I pray every day that you'll grow out of it," my mom says to me. I know that she doesn't like that I enjoy painting in my free time, and it took me months of begging to turn one of the extra rooms in the house into a little art studio. But I barely ever had any free time at home, so it didn't get very much use. From extracurricular activities like debate club, to studying for my AP classes, my parents kept me busy enough that I didn't have very much time for hobbies.

"Okay, well I'm going to go," I tell her, suddenly not feeling like continuing this phone call. I was expecting it to be longer, but she's really bummed me out by bashing my and Grandpa's hobby. "Give Trevor a hug for me."

"So soon?" she complains to me. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Mace."

"I'm fine, just tired. I think I'm going to take a nap before dinner," I give her a quick excuse so I can get off the phone now.

Instead of napping once I get off the phone, I use the rest of my afternoon watching French TV to work on my accent and pronunciations while doing some of my Duolingo course to improve my French skills. I don't feel like I'm getting much better, but I'm going to keep trying because hopefully, I'll be here for a long time.