That Spring in Paris

by Ciji Ware

  “Shhh, sweetheart... we’re on L’Étoile... floating on the Seine in the shadow of our beautiful tower.”

  “Oh, God! The guys... my guys... they were—”

  “I know, I know,” she crooned, pressing her cheek against his. “It seems so real, but it’s not! You’re here on the boat... with me. Juliet. The dream’s not real. I’m real. We’re both here and we’re safe.”

  Finn’s breathing had eventually slowed and he fell back to sleep, not stirring until she felt his body cradling her in the same protective way she had embraced his.

  Now, giving the gift of pleasuring him this third morning they’d spent together was a gift to herself as well. When they finally rose from the rumpled bed, they showered together in the tiny cubicle just off the stateroom’s stern.

  Turning off the water, Finn said, “I probably scared the be-Jesus out of you last night. I’m so sorry—”

  “Hey, you’d warned me about the nightmares.” She brushed a kiss against his damp shoulder. “So when I realized what was happening, I wasn’t scared. Just sad that these dreams still happen to you sometimes. Once you realized where you were, you went right back to sleep.”

  “You... well... you helped a lot.”

  “Just being here with you helps me a lot, too, Finn,” she replied soberly. “It’s been pretty grim in San Francisco. Here in Paris it feels... well, as if life can be very good.”

  “Good.”

  Toweling each other off, Finn glanced at the clock. “No croissants today, I’m afraid. We’re due at Claudine’s for Easter lunch in half an hour.”

  “And I still have to pack,” she moaned, “but at least, that way, we can stay with her as long as we can before you take me to the airport.”

  Finn grabbed Juliet and pulled her hard against him as their towels unraveled from around their waists. “I hate that you’re going back so soon,” he said gruffly.

  “Me too. But, welcome to the official flight plan you and I have agreed to, remember? Are you still certain this bi-continental deal is going to work for you?” She was worried, suddenly, what his answer might be.

  “Yes, I’m certain.” He scrutinized her face, his brow furrowed. “But how about you, standing here, bare-assed, in the light of day? How do you feel about it? What’s it like for you, sleeping with a semi-dormant volcano?”

  “Ain’t going to be easy, flyboy, but I am all in.”

  * * *

  Claudine had the long table in her elegant dining room already set with antique French linens, silver, and crystal by the time Finn, Juliet, Avery, and Alain met for Easter lunch.

  “Voilà!” she said gaily, as Finn placed her highly touted Jambon de Paris on the crowded table. On the platter was a slow-cooked ham that not only retained a large percentage of its moisture but also absorbed the flavors of the herbal ingredients in which it was basted. Nearby were bowls of freshly steamed asparagus, tiny garden peas, and pommes dauphine. The crisp potato puffs were Claudine’s specialty, made by mixing mashed potatoes with a savory puff pastry, forming the mixture into dumpling shapes, and then deep-frying them.

  “These are the most fabulous tater-tots in the universe!” Avery declared, holding one up on her fork.

  The assembled company soon fell to eating and chatting until, from the depths of Juliet’s handbag, the sound of her cell phone interrupted the friendly banter. Claudine shot a mildly disapproving look as her guest jumped up to rummage in the bottom of her purse to turn off the insistent ringing. One glimpse at the screen, however, and Juliet dashed out of the room with an apologetic, “It’s Jamie...”

  She pushed the answer button— “Hi, Jamie. What’s up?”

  “You’re flying home today, right?”

  “Yes,” she answered, her heart giving a flutter of alarm as she glanced at her watch. “It’s the middle of the night where you are. What’s going on?”

  “There’s an emergency meeting of the GG board late Monday afternoon, which will be tomorrow by the time you get back. Brad just announced that the takeover challenge from the Silicon boys in a rival game business is imminent and he wants all hands on deck.”

  “Of course he does,” Juliet replied grimly. “Did you tell him that you and I and the parents want a separate deal if there’s a buyout? Have you contacted our lawyers?”

  In the silence that followed, Juliet felt Jamie’s reluctance to answer her questions. Finally he said, “It’s all happened so quickly and it’s the Easter weekend, Jules!”

  “The perfect time to stage a coup,” she replied, keeping her voice steady. “At least leave a message for Edward Adelman right away, will you? Tell him what’s going on and that I’m on my way home. In fact, I’m leaving for the airport in an hour.”

  “Thank God,” Jamie said with a sigh of relief. “Brad’s a crazy person right now.”

  “No doubt.” She could imagine how a bully like her brother would react to having his power and prestige challenged by guys he’d probably gone to Stanford with, or maybe even had beaten at squash. “And I guess you’re right not to say anything to Brad, yet, about our demands. Let’s play our cards close to our vest until we know what’s really going on.”

  Juliet returned to the table, attempting to present her normal demeanor, but Finn seemed to sense immediately she was upset. He looked at her across the table with a questioning glance.

  “A bit of a glitch at home,” she explained shortly, standing behind her dining room chair. She took note of her watch and addressed Finn. “I’ll tell you about it in the car and you can tell the others later, if you want.” She forced a smile at her companions so as not to spoil the jovial atmosphere that had prevailed before her phone had rung. “I think I just have time to sample some of those wonderful confections Claudine ordered from La Patisserie des Rêves. Then, sadly, I have to head for the airport.” She looked directly at Finn, adding, “I hate to break up such a lovely party so I’m fine if it’s easier to just help me find a taxi downstairs.”

  “Not a chance, mademoiselle,” he replied. “First we have our dessert and coffee. Then we head for De Gaulle. I’ll get you there in plenty of time.”

  That’s my guy! Juliet thought with a profound sense of relief.

  * * *

  The takeover fight for GatherGames was bruising and the participants played as rough as was possible within the law.

  “Or maybe just outside the law,” Jamie grumbled when Juliet and he met with their lawyer after it was all over.

  Brad had browbeaten the majority of the board, along with his parents, to hang tough with him, and had managed to get the weakest company director to resign. Within a few hours, he had replaced him with a fraternity brother who’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth and brought some twelve million additional dollars into their coffers.

  “The stockholders are satisfied we have acted in their interest by fighting off the takeover bid,” Brad said smugly to a reporter from the Wall Street Journal. “And I’m satisfied the company is poised to be even more successful than ever, given the confidence shown by the latest investments into our firm, along with the initial, highly successful launch of Sky Slaughter 1. Even better, SS2: Drones in the Desert will be out momentarily, which is probably why these vultures tried to take us over to cash in on all our hard work.”

  And that was that. Problem solved.

  “Except,” noted Juliet bitterly to Edward Adelman and Jamie, seated at the glass-top table in the law firm’s conference room, “practically everyone who works at GG hates the boss. In addition, our parents are still out their ten-million-dollar equity loan they took on the Bay View when they funded the company’s expansion into war-game videos. The Golden Boy’s won the battle, but the war isn’t over. There are too many employees who hate Brad’s guts and a lot of wanna-be investors are still circling.”

  Adelman looked from sister to brother and gave a shrug acknowledging defeat. “Unless your parents, themselves, take issue with Brad and demand they be repaid...” he focu
sed a steady gaze in Juliet’s direction, “for now, at least, you’ve returned to the status quo.”

  “Merde!” she hissed between her teeth, thinking of their lawyer’s bill to come.

  Jamie complained, “Brad’s now demanding that none of us sell any of the family stock granted us at GG’s founding, even though in two months, according to the rules of the company now listed on the stock exchange, we’ll have the perfect right to do so.” He looked across the law firm’s conference table at his sister. “But unless we want to start World War Three at home, you and I are stuck—at least for the foreseeable future.”

  Juliet leaned back in the luxurious leather seat and frowned. Finn’s proposal that she quit her job to join him in France was spinning in her thoughts. She looked at Jamie and said, “Well, we’ll just have to weigh ‘peace at any price’ with our own needs and wishes, won’t we? Meanwhile, we don’t sign anything.”

  Adelman nodded. “Exactly. Keep me posted, and I’m happy to help if the landscape at GG alters in some significant way.”

  Juliet rose, pushed back the heavy leather chair and stowed a clutch of legal papers into her tote bag.

  “I’ll see you out,” Adelman said, confirming their meeting was at an end. He ushered his gloomy clients through the glass door, across the reception area, and in the direction of a bank of elevators. Just then, Juliet noticed the young lawyer whom she remembered from the last time she was in the firm’s office chatting with the pretty receptionist as they passed by. As Juliet came within three feet of him, she felt him cast her the same head-to-toe appraising gaze as on her last visit.

  “Hey there, Eddie,” he called out to Adelman. He graced Juliet with a knowing smile as if bestowing on her the gift of his appreciation for how she looked. “How’s it going?”

  “Hi there,” the senior partner replied pleasantly and kept walking Juliet and Jamie toward the elevator doors.

  The attention conferred on her just then made Juliet miss Finn Deschanel more than she ever imagined. How had she ever thought these kind of slick operators held any charm or attraction for her? She glanced up at a clock hung above the elevator doors. It was the middle of the night in France. Finn probably was in Rennes, sleeping in a cheap motel while taking the first of his small-scale drone classes to earn his commercial certification. He was already deeply launched into his part of their bargain.

  How in the world am I going to advance my own?

  * * *

  The next day, Juliet was relieved to hear a deep, familiar voice on the other end of her phone.

  “Hey there! I just called to say that you are now speaking to a guy who passed the first level of written exams—allowed to be given in English, thank God—and flew five drone exercises without mishap!”

  Juliet rose from the stool next to her drafting table in the art department and dashed out the office door, heading down the hall to the ladies’ room where she’d have some privacy. “Finn, that’s fabulous, but of course you’d pass everything. You could probably be teaching the course.”

  “Some of it,” he admitted. By this time, she’d slipped into one of the stalls of the empty bathroom and shut the door. “Trust me, though,” he added, “I’m learning a lot about the ins and outs of flying these little guys into very small spaces, as opposed to operating a full-sized, winged aircraft. And by the way,” he chortled, “the C.I.A. guy at the U.S. Embassy has finally given up trying to persuade me to reconsider his offer. He probably figured I wouldn’t refuse it, given that a three-star general has obviously been breathing down his neck.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” she replied, wishing that—likewise—her brother Brad would lay off his constant barrage of arm-twisting to get Jamie and her to sign a pledge that they wouldn’t sell any of their stock until he gave the okay.

  “As a matter of fact,” Finn continued, “my status as a former, full-fledged military drone pilot has made me something of a celebrity at school. I might well end up teaching some courses here when I finally get certified.”

  “It sounds as if you’re loving every minute of the training.” Juliet smiled into the phone, hoping there was no detectable note of wistfulness. “And the great thing is, you’re doing what you love, but on your own terms.”

  “Exactement!” he said, his French accent flawless. “But what about you, sweetheart? You don’t sound so hot. Tell me what’s going on.”

  Finn’s sensitivity to her moods, even across a distance of six thousand miles, never ceased to amaze her. She explained Brad’s latest attempts to legally box her into long-term servitude if she wanted to emerge with the money she was owed.

  “You didn’t sign, did you?”

  “No, of course not, but I can’t seem to find a way out of this maze,” she moaned, “and I’m so afraid that Jamie might cave, just to shut Brad up.”

  “If you don’t sign, Jamie probably won’t, either, don’t you imagine?”

  “That’s what I’m hoping... but do you think I should just sell my stock on July first and say to hell with the rest of what I have coming? Or should I try one more time to persuade my parents that we have every right to recoup our investments... theirs in actual money, and mine and Jamie’s in profits due us for five years of hard labor?”

  “It’s a tough choice, for sure.”

  “I miss you so much,” she said in a rush, a lump suddenly swelling in her throat. “All I dream about is coming to Paris, but if I just up and sell the portion of stock I could legally liquidate in July, and my mother and father turn on me—which I’m sure my mother, at least, might—I’ll basically be losing my family. For sure, they’ll say I’ve betrayed the honor of the Thayers, along with my older brother...”

  They both knew the doomsday scenario she’d sketched for him several times already. There was a long pause on the other end of the phone.

  Exasperated, she said, “Well, what do you think I should do?”

  Finn inhaled a deep breath. “Hear this, Juliet,” he said, his voice low. “I miss you too. Much, much more than I even expected to, if you want to know... but I can’t tell you what to do. I want you to return to Paris only if and when you feel it’s in your best interests. Otherwise, you’ll be just as miserable here as you are in San Francisco. Only you can decide whether to cut your losses and be happy in that decision—and come to Paris to study—or, stay and fight it out there in San Francisco to secure a better financial future. Either way, you have to be willing to take the possible consequences. But if you stay and fight and you don’t achieve what you want—can you then be willing to walk away and feel okay about it?”

  “Oh, Finn... it sounds so impossible when you put my choices like that.”

  “It’s not impossible,” he said in a surprisingly gentle tone of voice that was somehow soothing to her ears. “It’s just hard. It’s hard to choose between doing what others want you to do and doing what feels right for yourself. Believe me, I know.”

  “But neither choice feels right!”

  “Then it sounds like you are not ready to decide, and that’s okay, too.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. And if you’re worried I’m impatient with you, I’m not.” His word’s flooded her with relief. “I’m pretty content doing my thing over here, although let me tell you, I very much miss your being not in residence on the barge.”

  “You are such a sweetheart,” she said with a sigh.

  “A horny sweetheart, for sure... but thanks for the compliment.”

  Just then, someone entered the ladies room. Juliet immediately unlatched the stall door, smiled at the newcomer, and headed for the exit.

  “I’ve gotta ring off, now,” she said to Finn hurriedly. “I’m due in a meeting, but I’ll keep you posted on this.”

  “You’re in the ladies room, right?” Finn said with a chuckle. “Okay then. Text me a goodnight kiss later, will you?”

  “Will do,” Juliet said in a cheery, officious tone for the benefit of the young woman who worked in t
he coding department and was heading for the empty stall.

  CHAPTER 24

  Everyone in the art department had left their desks for the day this final evening in March as a finger of fog moved in through the Golden Gate Straits, rendering Alcatraz and Angel islands in the middle of the Bay invisible. Juliet, her coat in hand, was just about to walk out the door to meet Jamie for dinner at the Tadich Grill on California Street near their offices south of Market Street. Without warning, Brad’s close-cropped blond head suddenly appeared in the doorway.

  “Can I see you in my office?” he said, his voice crisp and businesslike.

  Juliet glanced up at the clock.

  “I’m due for dinner in fifteen minutes. How about first thing tomorrow?”

  “You’re meeting Jamie,” he stated flatly. “He can wait. This won’t.”

  How does he know who I’m having dinner with? Her heart thrummed in her chest, but she merely heaved a small shrug and attempted to appear calm as she slung her tote bag over her shoulder. She followed him down the hallway to his corner office with its seismic reinforcing iron beams that cross-crossed the brick wall of a former shirt factory. Twin girders also framed his stainless steel and glass-topped desk. She thought of her architect ancestress who would have been pleased to see how San Francisco had retrofitted many of its nineteenth-century buildings in case another temblor struck like the devastating one in 1906.

  “Take a seat,” Brad commanded, pointing to a chair that faced his desk. When both had settled, he shoved a solitary sheet of paper filled with single-spaced lawyer-eeze. “Please sign this,” he instructed, adding, “I won’t ask again.”

  Juliet skimmed the three terse paragraphs that basically promised that she would never sell any of her stock until given permission by her brother, the CEO, to do so. She looked at him and pushed the paper back in his direction.