They went down to dinner together and the mother superior could tell that Sister Regina had shared her secret with Alex, and she didn’t mind. She knew how close they were. And Regina wasn’t leaving St. Dominic’s in disgrace, she was going to find herself, with their blessing. Mother MaryMeg knew full well that the religious life was not for everyone, and the vocation Regina had been so sure of as a teenager twenty years before no longer felt right to her as a thirty-five-year-old woman.
Alex left a week later, after saying goodbye to Bert and promising to write to him too, or call from time to time. He told her to take some time off from writing for the next two months, it would do her good, and give her a chance to fill the well again, as he put it. She had written five books in a relatively short time. And he thought Europe would give her fresh ideas. There were so many places she wanted to visit: Paris, Rome, Florence, Pisa, Provence. She had a long list of cities and locations she had read about and only imagined for years, and all of them would make fantastic settings for a book.
—
Sister Regina, Sister Xavier, and Sister Tommy drove Alex to the airport, and she had only taken two bags. One of them was very heavy because she had her Smith Corona in it. She had brought her laptop in her carry-on bag and two of her father’s favorite books. She had packed comfortable clothes and a few dresses, and some notepads in case she wanted to write longhand. She had hugged Mother MaryMeg before she left and thanked her for everything. How did you thank someone for a third of your life, being your family and giving you a home? She couldn’t, and they just held each other tight, and the mother superior gave her a blessing, and told her to be careful and call from time to time. Alex promised she would, and it was a tearful scene at the airport with the three other nuns she had been closest to, who had been a trio of mothers to her for all the years she’d been there. They hugged and kissed a dozen times, and waved as she went through security, until they couldn’t see her anymore, and then they drove back to the convent, alternately crying and laughing, remembering things she had done when she was younger. And by the time they got to the convent, Alex was on the plane, thinking of them. She was a little nervous about traveling alone, but if it didn’t work out, she knew she didn’t have to stay, she could come home.
—
But the trip exceeded her wildest expectations. She thought Rome was the most beautiful place she’d ever seen, with the Colosseum, St. Peter’s, the Vatican, and the countless small beautiful churches. She spent a week there and walked everywhere. She went to Florence and spent days in the Uffizi, and four days in Venice, visiting every church and monument on her list. Being in Venice sparked an idea for a new book, and she started taking notes. She thought the canals and the palazzi, particularly at night, were a perfect location for a sinister crime, with Interpol involved, and she created an Italian detective. She went to Milan briefly, and then flew to Paris and spent two weeks there. It was mid-July by then, and she had called the convent several times to check in, so they didn’t worry about her. She rented a car, and drove to the chateaux of the Loire Valley, and fell in love with Provence when she went there. She made a detour to Ireland, and loved it despite terrible weather, and then flew to London and spent two full weeks exploring the city. She had been in Europe for more than two months, she still had no desire to go home, and her notebook was full of jotted notes for a new book.
She found a small hotel in Bloomsbury, and thought about what to do next. When she called Rose to check in, the agent made an interesting suggestion.
“Your publisher has an office in London. Maybe they could bend the rules and give you a job for a while, just to get a feeling for life there. Since it’s an American company, they’ll know how to get around your needing a work permit and can probably pay you from the States, or set it up as an internship of some kind.” Alex liked the idea and thought it might give her an excuse to stay, since she wasn’t ready to come home. She couldn’t tell them that she was Alexander Green, but she could use her internship in New York as a reference to get one here. She thought that Rose’s suggestion was a good one, and she walked into the publisher a few days later and inquired if they had any openings for an internship as an editorial assistant, and they said they might. One of their junior editors had gotten married recently and moved back to the States, and the current assistant who had taken her place was getting a promotion. They agreed to interview Alex the next day, and treat the junior editor’s job as an internship until they found a proper replacement with a work permit.
She wore the only nice dress she had brought with her, and at the end of two hours, after she met several people, they hired her. The pay was low, but she had her own money. She was doing it for the experience, not what she’d earn, which was an enviable position to be in, unlike her friend Regina, who was about to become Brigid O’Brien again, and was worried about how to make ends meet with her teaching job. Alex had the freedom to do whatever she wanted, and stay as long as she chose. And she liked the idea of working in London. She called Mother Mary Margaret and told her about her decision, and said she was sure she wouldn’t stay for more than a few months, and they’d probably have a permanent replacement for the job by then anyway.
“That’s what you’re there for,” the mother superior encouraged her, “to discover the world. It will be good for your books.”
Alex went to a real estate broker to find a furnished apartment rental, and located a small but very nice one in Knightsbridge that suited her, and rented it for three months. It seemed more sensible than staying at a hotel. So she had a job, and an apartment, and she was going to live in a new city for a while. She felt very adventuresome as she walked to work the next day and found the person she was supposed to report to, Margaret Wiseman, an older editor whose specialty was historical novels. She was chilly to Alex and told her which desk she could use, but she made no particular effort to welcome her, and handed her a stack of work to do. They were menial tasks, like filing, but it kept her busy until lunchtime, and Fiona, one of the young assistants, came to say hello and ask her to join them for lunch, and she accepted. She was three years older than Alex, and everyone was friendly as they sat at a sandwich shop, talking about people she didn’t know. They thought it very interesting that Alex had come from Boston for a job there, as a junior editor on an internship. She explained that she had just graduated from college in June, and had been traveling around Europe ever since.
“Good on you!” one of the girls said admiringly, and they all walked back to the office together, and got into the elevator with an attractive man in a black shirt, black jeans, and motorcycle boots, with tousled black hair, and he looked as though he hadn’t shaved in a week, which Alex assumed was intentional. She laughed, thinking that he reminded her of one of the characters in her books.