Parisian Surprise

by Havel, Carlene;

  “I teach first grade at a private academy. Some days the kids drive me crazy, and the rest of the time the headmaster takes on that role. But I love teaching. It’s what I always wanted to do.” Second to becoming a wife and mother, but that’s too personal to talk about with a man I just met.

  “Have you always lived in Montgomery?”

  Allee was startled. “How do you know where I—oh, the luggage tag has my home address on it.” She liked the way he looked into her eyes and seemed genuinely interested in everything she had to say. “I was born in a little place in northern Alabama you probably never heard of, Redmont’s Crossing. My folks are poultry farmers.” If he hasn’t already decided I’m an idiot, finding out I grew up on a chicken farm ought to seal the deal.

  Even though she was exhausted and seriously in need of a shower, Allee was sorry when dinner was over. A long day of battling obstacles ended on a high note—all because of Paul’s pleasant company.

  “I’ll be happy to carry your backpack,” he offered as they walked toward the metro station.

  “If you promise not to let me forget it.”

  “Cross my heart.” With her bag slung over one shoulder, he strolled casually to the metro vending machine where he made the ticket-purchasing process appear simple.

  She noticed the stubs in his grasp. “Two tickets?”

  He smiled and motioned toward the turnstile. “Surely you don’t think I’m the kind of guy who would send you off on the metro by yourself at night in a strange city.”

  “But you’ll have to ride back by yourself.”

  “Better me than you.”

  As they sat on the half-deserted subway car, Allee was grateful for Paul’s reassuring presence.

  “What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Tina and I planned to go to Versailles our first full day here, but I’ll confess I’m slightly apprehensive.”

  He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. “You made it all the way to Paris on your own.

  She felt compelled to explain. “My trusty guidebook says the best way to get to Versailles is by train but warns it’s a little tricky.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d like some company to help navigate? You’ll be visiting one of my favorite places.”

  His offer sounded too good to be true. “Don’t you need to go to work?”

  “No, I’m on leave.”

  Allee knit her eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

  “It’s military terminology for being on vacation,” Paul explained. “My job at the embassy was very demanding, with lots of long hours. Since I wasn’t able to do much traveling, I took thirty days of leave at the end of my tour to enjoy the sights and say goodbye to Europe.”

  “You’d really come to Versailles with me?”

  His gaze locked onto hers. “Yes, I would like very much to visit Versailles again. With you.”

  Paul walked with Allee to the entrance of her hotel. “I’ll meet you right here tomorrow morning at 8 o’clock.” As he opened the door, he added. “Don’t eat breakfast.”

  For the briefest of moments, she thought he might kiss her. How ridiculous. The peculiar thing was, she kind of wanted him to.

  Allee was surprised when the desk clerk greeted her by name as she crossed the lobby of her hotel. “Good evening, Mademoiselle Bell. Your luggage has been delivered.”

  “Thank you.” Safely tucked into her hotel after a fine meal, with Paul to serve as her tour guide tomorrow, and clean clothes, Allee’s worries melted away.

  After a quick shower and a text to Tina, she had no trouble falling asleep.

  10

  The following morning, Allee used the yummy-smelling bubble bath she found in her hotel room to wash away her grogginess. She chided herself for spending half of her soaking time considering what to wear for her excursion to Versailles, as if she wanted to impress someone. When she settled on a swingy navy skirt with a sky blue knit shirt, she found her reflection in the full length-mirror satisfactory. After spending minimal time on her short hair, tossing a navy sweater over her shoulders, and donning comfortable shoes, she decided there was barely enough time to phone home before meeting Paul.

  Allee took a deep breath and entered the additional codes needed to make an international call. “Good morning, Mom.”

  “Allee?”

  “You sound sleepy. Did I wake you up?”

  “Uh, huh. Let me get the lights on.” Suddenly her mother sounded wide awake. “Allee, are you all right? Where are you?”

  “I’m fine, Mom. I’m in Paris. I promised to call you—”

  “You’re OK? Are you sure?”

  “Yes, Mom. I’m—”

  “Do you realize what time it is?”

  “It’s a little before eight in the morning.” Then it hit her. The time difference. “Oh, but not in Alabama.”

  “You almost gave me a heart attack. I thought you were in some kind of trouble, calling us in the wee hours of the morning.”

  “I’m sorry.” Allee felt foolish, especially when she remembered how little chance her mother would have to grab a nap on the farm. “I forgot about the time difference. I just wanted you to know I got here in one piece. I’ll phone you in a couple of days. Go back to sleep. Love to you and Dad and say ‘hey’ to Buck and Joanna for me. Bye.”

  Putting her plans to call Tina on hold for a few hours, Allee loaded her handbag with her maps, energy bars, and a bottle of water. Unless she wanted to carry her backpack, there was only room for one bulkier item. She finally chose the guide book over her French-English dictionary. Paul was more than capable of handling the language demands.

  She opted for the stairs, seeing no need for an elevator to take her down one flight. As she descended the staircase far enough to catch a view of the lobby, there he was—handsome as a model for a men’s fashion magazine. Her foot barely cleared the last step before Paul stood and smiled. “Good morning,” he said. “You appear refreshed.”

  “The benefits of a good night’s sleep. Good morning to you, too.”

  When he opened the door to the street for her, Allee breathed in the scent of his clean-smelling after shave. His damp, dark hair glistened as they stepped into the sunlit street. She could get used to this.

  “How about we grab some breakfast before we head to the train station? There’s a nifty little boulangerie between here and the metro.”

  Allee laughed. “That sounds like an underwear shop, but I assume we are going someplace where they sell food.”

  “Right.” Paul joined in her laughter. “A boulangerie is a bakery. This one specializes in croissants, but they have all kinds of breads and pastries.”

  “And coffee I hope.”

  “Coffee, tea, expresso, hot chocolate. You name it.”

  “Bonjour,” Paul said to the man and woman behind the counter as they entered Pierre’s Boulangerie.

  “Bonjour.” The man behind the counter smiled and nodded.

  “You know these people?” Allee whispered.

  “No, but it’s considered rude to enter a business establishment in France without speaking.”

  Allee took in her surroundings while Paul engaged in a brief conversation with a woman in a starched white apron. The shop was about the size of her parents’ dining room, with glass display cases along the left and back walls. Three small, round wrought iron tables—the kind found only in specialty ice cream shops at home—occupied the right side of the room. Outside, literally on the sidewalk, there were four umbrella-shaded tables in front of the bakery’s windows, with two to four chairs around each table. Since the pale green and white décor was simple, Allee’s eyes were drawn to the lovely baked goods tastefully arranged behind the spotless glass.

  “Put your money away. This is my treat. Does anything appeal to you?” Paul asked, as the woman in the apron sat two coffees on the countertop in front of him.

  “Everything looks scrumptious. What do you recommend?”

  In a few minutes,
they were seated outside on the sidewalk. “We can’t possibly eat that much,” Allee said when Paul brought an array of delicacies to the table.

  “I asked them to pack us a picnic lunch.” He zipped a wrapped parcel into his backpack. “Much better than eating snack bar food.”

  “I won’t even try to remember what these are called,” Allee declared, after a bite of something resembling a cream puff, only lighter, flakier, and even more delicious than the confections her aunt occasionally baked.

  Allee sipped her coffee, soaking up the atmosphere of the awakening city. When she opened her eyes, Paul was staring at her in a peculiar way. “You must have been a million miles away. What were you thinking about?”

  “I was storing a mental video. I want to remember every detail about being here, in this beautiful city, on an absolutely gorgeous morning. I recorded how the flower baskets on the light poles smell, the taste of this delicious breakfast, the sound of the traffic.” She smiled and sat her coffee aside. “Next year, when it’s cold outside and the first graders are driving me up the wall, I’ll be able to transport myself back into this perfect moment.” And I’ll remember how good it was to be here with you. Cutting a bite from her pastry, Allee grew somewhat self-conscious. “That probably sounds silly to you, since you’ve been to a lot of exotic places.”

  “No, not silly at all. It’s wonderful to store up good memories.” Paul hunched forward as if to speak, but after a moment leaned back in his chair.

  A red smart car stopped at the busy intersection bordering the sidewalk tables. While the rest of the traffic zipped around the tiny vehicle, the driver edged it near a table.

  “What is he doing?” Allee asked.

  Paul cupped his hands around his coffee mug and studied the scene. “I’d say he’s parking.”

  “Parking?” Allee was incredulous. “He’s in the middle of the street, with one wheel on the sidewalk.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Sure enough, a dapper fellow unfolded his considerable height from within the smart car, looked both ways, and strode swiftly away.

  “He can’t do that,” Allee insisted.

  Paul smiled and shrugged. “I believe he already has. Welcome to Paris.”

  The absurdity of the situation made Allee laugh so hard tears rolled down her cheeks. Paul threw his head back and joined in her mirth. Allee was aware of people staring, but she didn’t care if the citizens of Paris thought she was a crazy tourist.

  With Paul running interference, getting to Versailles was easy. Although the trip took about an hour and a half, the time flew by for Allee. During a brief lapse in the conversation, she pretended to watch the scenery roll by the train. With her face turned toward the train window, she focused on the reflection of her companion’s profile in the glass. She couldn’t help thinking how comfortable she was with Paul, even though they’d just met. Why couldn’t she find a guy with his suave charm back home in Alabama? Why did he briefly pop into her life now, showing her the possibility of the kind of man she wanted, only to vanish forever in another week?

  11

  “No line?” Paul questioned as they approached the entrance to Versailles. “That’s unusual.”

  A woman in a tailored uniform stepped into the doorway to block them from going inside. “Le chateau est fermé.”

  Allee turned to Paul. “What did she say?”

  “Closed?” Paul shook his head. He and the woman engaged in an animated exchange in French. When he ended the conversation with a curt “Bonjour,” she replied identically.

  Allee was mystified. “What’s going on?”

  Paul raked his top lip with his teeth. “We can’t go inside.”

  “What? Why?”

  “The museum workers are on strike.”

  Attempting to process what she’d heard, Allee frowned. “On strike? When did that happen?”

  “A few minutes ago, it appears. We can stroll around the grounds, and stay as long as we like, but we can’t do anything that requires the services of a ticket taker, museum guard, or tour guide.” Balling his fists into his pockets, he nodded to his right. “The garden out front is fantastic. Want to take a stroll?”

  “No. I want to see Marie Antoinette’s boudoir, and the hall of mirrors.” She took out her guidebook and flipped it open to color photos of ornate rooms. “This is what I want to see.”

  Paul shrugged. “I’m afraid that’s not happening today.”

  “But I came all the way from Alabama,” Allee insisted.

  “I’m sure they didn’t take that into consideration when they called the strike,” he said with only the trace of a grin. “Let’s check out the flowers.” Paul moved away from the palace entrance. “After all, flexibility is the key to air superiority.”

  Stepping from where a line should be forming, Allee asked, “What in the world is that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s an Air Force saying.” He took a few more steps and motioned for her to follow. “It means you always have Plan B, in case things don’t go the way you expected them to.”

  They sat on a low wall, with the palace behind them and the spectacularly groomed grounds stretching out in front.

  She settled close by his side. “I can’t believe this.” Allee sniffed and dabbed at a tear. “How long does a strike last?”

  “It’s impossible to say. It could end this afternoon. Worst case, it could spread, involve all kinds of different occupations, and go on for weeks.”

  “Great,” Allee said. “Just great. I wonder how much it would cost to change my flight home to tomorrow.”

  Paul gave her a curious look. “Are there any museums in Montgomery, Alabama?”

  “Of course, we have museums. You may think Montgomery is some hillbilly backwater but let me tell you we have plenty of culture.”

  “When was the last time you visited one?”

  Allee stared at Paul and pressed her lips together. “I’ve never actually been to a museum in Montgomery,” she admitted at last. “I guess I haven’t found time. There are so many other things to do.”

  “Precisely.” Paul held out his hands, palms up. “There are scores of interesting things to do in any big city, whether you visit the guide book attractions or not.”

  Not convinced, Allee offered a challenge. “For example?”

  “In Paris? The Champs Élysée, concerts, gothic cathedrals, the left bank, the ballet, the opera—shall I go on?”

  “And those rival the Louvre and all the paintings in the Musee d’Orsay?” Allee ignored his hands.

  He dropped his arms to his side. She swung her legs, tapping her heels against the wall.

  “I guess that depends on your perspective, but they definitely beat leaving France without seeing anything. Plus, all of the options I mentioned are possible. For the moment, museums are not.”

  A beep caught her attention and Allee peeked at a text from Tina. Knee op Fri then rehab @ my sis 3-4 wks. Can’t do our stairs. Hope u & sweater go good places & have fun!! She put away her phone and reassessed the situation. Compared to lying in a hospital bed facing surgery and a lengthy rehab, a little hiccup like a strike didn’t sound quite so bad. Buckle up, buttercup. Quit feeling sorry for yourself. “This really is a beautiful place. I love the fountain.”

  Beaming, Paul agreed, “That’s the spirit. Shall we?” He hopped off the wall, turned to Allee, and extended his hands toward her. Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifted her from her perch, and gently touched her feet to the ground. “You’re light as a feather.”

  Allee hoped she wasn’t blushing, but the rush of warmth to her face told her she was—since she was unaccustomed to the touch of an attractive man. She couldn’t help noticing the way his arm muscles bulged when he twirled her to the ground.

  After a long stroll, enjoying the beautiful symmetry of the formal gardens, gazing at incredible statuary, breathing in the scent of colorful blossoms, they stopped by Versailles’ Grand Canal to enjoy their picnic lunch.
>
  “How can a simple cheese sandwich pack so much flavor?” Allee peeked under the top slice of bread.

  Paul smiled as he uncapped a fruity drink for her. “It helps to work up an appetite with a lot of walking. Food always tastes better to me when I’m really hungry.”

  “Could be.” Allee inspected a carrot stick. “But Tina’s casseroles out of a box are never this good, even when I come home from work starving.” She glanced around. “I wonder if Marie Antoinette and Louis the Sixteenth ever had a picnic out here.”

  “I hope so,” Paul commented, with a wave of his hand. “It would be a shame to stay inside on a day like this.” After a brief pause, he asked, “What were you planning to do tomorrow?”

  Unable to suppress a giggle, Allee replied, “Museums, of course, thanks to my impeccable timing.”

  “That’s a perfect fit for Plan B. Tomorrow is market day in Dinan. Have you ever heard of it?”

  Allee shook her head. “No.” She wiped her mouth with a paper napkin and turned to the D’s in her guidebook. “Dinan. Hmm, well-preserved walls, a must-see in Brittany.” She glanced up. “Isn’t that quite a distance from Paris?”

  “About three hours the way I drive it. It would make for a long day, but if you want to see a medieval town center, Dinan is the place. Not to mention, a little cafe there that serves the best crepes this side of Heaven.”

  Pretending to read her guide book, Allee considered going to Dinan. It was one thing to ride the metro or board a train with a virtual stranger, but quite another to go off into the French countryside with him in an automobile. Paul had done nothing to raise any sort of warning signal. In fact, she felt safer when he was around than when he wasn’t. He seemed to accept quiet times as readily as conversation. But why was he being so nice to her? So attentive? Almost as if he was wooing her. She decided to pursue a topic that would help her clarify whether or not she wanted to trust him on a day trip away from Paris.

  “Do you believe it’s a real place?” she asked without lifting her eyes from the book in her lap.