Publisher: Aria
Release date: 07/05/2020
Links to buy this book:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/39UDxwn
Kobo: https://bit.ly/2NeQM2D
Google Play: https://bit.ly/2NfEyqD
SYNOPSIS:
Finding the one is only the
beginning...
1954. Zara is fifteen the first time
she meets Leon. During a power cut in a small French museum, the two spend one
short hour in the dark talking about their love for art, Monet and Paris.
Neither knows what the other looks like. But both know their lives will never
be the same.
1963. In Paris, Leon no longer
believes he will ever find the girl he lost that night. Zara thinks she has
already found him. When they meet at an exhibition, they don’t recognise each
other – but the way they feel is so familiar...
Over the course of thirty years,
Zara and Leon are destined to fall in love again and again. But will they ever
find a way to be together?
EXTRACT:
‘So,
you like Monet?’
‘I
don’t know anything about Monet.’
‘Why
do you have the book then? Do you like art?’
‘I
like Bartholdi and Viollet-le-Duc if that counts.’
‘Never
heard of them,’ the boy said in a low, timid voice.
‘I’m
not surprised. They’re not as famous as painters are, for instance.’
‘Yes,
I love painters. Well, I mean I love paintings. Mostly by Monet. I like Cezanne
too. Degas, sometimes. Pissarro. Manet less. Renoir is okay too. And
Toulouse-Lautrec—’
He
spoke so fast. She stopped him. ‘Can I have it back now?’
‘What?’
‘The
book.’
‘Oh,
sorry, of course.’
Zara
stretched out her arms just a bit and felt the edges of the book. He let go of
it.
‘Thank
you,’ she said. ‘You’re not from around here, are you? Your accent—’
‘I’m
from New York. But I go to school in Switzerland.’
Apart
from Paris, New York was her favorite city in the whole world even if, just
like Paris, she had never seen it. She knew everything about it. New York was
every artist’s dream. The skyscrapers, the fantastic architecture, the bridges,
the statues, the parks. She had read many books about the city and even more
about the statue.
‘You’re
lucky. I’ve always wanted to visit New York. Maybe one day. I’m fascinated with
Liberty
Enlightening the World,’ she said in one breath.
‘Enlightening
what?’ he asked tentatively.
‘The
statue. The Statue of Liberty. That’s what it was initially called. Did you
know the mastermind behind it lived here, in Colmar? The old town is filled
with his sculptures and fountains. They’re magnificent.’
‘No,
I didn’t know that,’ he said.
‘Yes,
Colmar is not just a pretty small town on the Alsatian wine route. But let’s
keep it between us because if word gets out, this place will be swarming with
tourists.’
He
chuckled, and her heart fluttered. She tried imagining what the face of a boy
with such beautiful laughter looked like. She wondered if you could like
someone without seeing them, without knowing anything about them. There was
something about him. Something that made her feel things she’d never felt
before.
‘Too
late. I’m a tourist, so your secret is out. Tell me about this man who built
the statue.’
‘He
didn’t build it; he designed it. You know who built it? Gustave Eiffel, the
same man who made the Eiffel Tower in Paris. Don’t feel bad, not a lot of
people know this.’
‘But
you do,’ he said. ‘Hey, you never answered my question.’
‘What
question?’
‘The
painting. Is it here?’
‘I’m
afraid not,’ she said. ‘In Paris, perhaps. Like I said, I am not that good
with—’
‘Paintings,’
he said and chuckled. ‘Apparently neither am I.’ He sounded disappointed.
‘Well, at least I tried.’
‘Did
you come all the way from Switzerland for this? What’s so special about it?’
Maybe there was something about Impression,
Sunrise that would explain her dream.
‘It belongs
to my family.’
‘Really?
Then how come you don’t know where it is?’
‘It’s
complicated.’
‘My
mother says that everything worthwhile is at least a little bit complicated.
Besides, I’m in no rush. Tell me,’ she said, sitting on the floor next to him.
She
forgot about the watchdog, about getting caught. It didn’t seem to matter
anymore.
‘Alright
then. Claude Monet made four identical Impression, Sunrise paintings. One he
signed, the other three he kept secret and gave to his closest friends – among
them, my great-grandfather. Years later, during World War II, the painting was
stolen from our family’s house in Newport.’
‘And
someone told you it might be in Colmar?’ asked Zara.
‘Not
exactly. No. I just – I felt I had to come here. Not sure why. I saw the signs
pointing to the museum, and here I am.’
‘I’m
sorry you didn’t find what you were looking for,’ she said.
‘I…’
Silence.
‘Yes?’
About the author:
Olivia’s love for words started as a child when she spent all
her summer vacations watching her grandfather, who worked for the biggest
publishing house in Romania, edit hundreds of books. She is a former
investigative journalist for a newspaper and a television network in Romania,
now a Marketing Director in Silicon Valley - in between she lived in Paris
where her love for the Alsace region was born.
Follow
Olivia:
Twitter: @olilara_writes
Facebook: @olivialaraauthor
Follow Aria
Twitter: @aria_fiction
Facebook: @ariafiction
Instagram: @ariafiction
