---- Chapter 13 The train ride to Paris was a special kind of hell. Kelsey, exhausted from weeks of planning and emotional turmoil, had just wanted to sleep. But the child in the seat behind her had other plans. He was a small, shrieking vortex of energy, kicking the back of her seat and periodically letting out a piercing scream. His parents, a young, fashionable couple, were absorbed in their phones, occasionally offering a weak, "Leo, darling, be nice." The other passengers in the first-class cabin were shooting daggers at the family. Kelsey closed her eyes, trying to block it out. Suddenly, a man stood up from a few rows ahead. He was tall, with a lean, wiry build, dressed in worn jeans and a simple black t-shirt that seemed out of place in the stuffy, formal cabin. He had a mess of dark, curly hair and a day's worth of stubble on his jaw. He walked over to the child, knelt down, and said something in a low, calm voice. Kelsey couldn't hear the words, but she saw the effect. The boy stopped kicking. He listened, his eyes wide. The man pulled a small, silver harmonica from his pocket and played a few simple, quiet notes. The boy giggled. The ---- screaming stopped. The man gave the boy a wink, ruffled his hair, and walked back to his seat. The cabin breathed a collective sigh of relief. Kelsey found herself watching him. She was intrigued. He had handled the situation with a quiet confidence that was strangely compelling. He caught her eye and gave her a small, self-deprecating smile. She quickly looked away, a faint blush rising on her cheeks. At the Gare du Nord station in Paris, the chaos was overwhelming. As she wrestled her heavy suitcase off the platform, she bumped squarely into someone. Her bag tipped, and she stumbled. A pair of strong hands steadied her. "Whoa there. You okay?" She looked up. It was him. The man from the train. "I'm so sorry," she stammered, flustered. "Don't be," he said, his voice a low, pleasant rumble with an American accent. "This place is a combat zone." He smiled, and she noticed the laugh lines around his eyes. "Are you moving here, or just planning a very long vacation?" he asked, nodding at her large suitcase. "A bit of a permanent vacation," she said, a small smile touching her own lips. "I'm staying in Le Marais." "No kidding?" he said, his eyebrows raising in surprise. "What ---- street?" She told him the name of the quiet, cobblestoned street where her new apartment was. He laughed. "Small world. | live in the same building." Kelsey stared at him, stunned by the coincidence. "I'm Judd Mullen," he said, extending a hand. "Kelsey," she replied, taking it. His hand was warm and his grip was firm. She noticed his fingers were calloused, like a musician's. "I'm a musician," he explained, as if reading her mind. "I play at a little club around the corner. You should come by sometime. I'll even promise not to play the harmonica." His easy, teasing manner was a world away from the stiff formality of her old life. She felt a strange flutter in her chest, an unfamiliar mix of nervousness and excitement. "Maybe | will," she said noncommittally. "Let me help you with that," he said, grabbing her suitcase before she could protest. "Neighbors have to stick together." He insisted on carrying her bag all the way to her apartment door, which was just one floor below his. "My show is tonight at nine," he said as he set her bag down. "Just in case you get bored of unpacking." ---- He gave her a final, charming smile and disappeared up the stairs. Kelsey unlocked her new front door and stepped inside. The apartment was small but bright, with tall windows that looked out over a quiet courtyard. Her boxes were waiting for her. It was a blank slate. Her blank slate. A sense of peace, and something that felt a lot like hope, settled over her.