Until Vienna (Romance on the Orient Express)

by Heather B. Moore

  “Well? Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Gigi said, looking over at her sister, who was busy rummaging through the face creams and perfumes and other makeup items Gigi was leaving behind.

  Lillian looked up, her brown eyes the picture of absolute innocence. “Not particularly. I mean, there is the dinner tonight with Bart’s family, but that’s ages away.”

  “Just because I’m going to be gone for a few weeks doesn’t mean you can use my toiletries. I’m still going to need them when I come back.”

  “Oh, I know,” Lillian said, flashing a smile. “I’m only looking. Besides, I’m out of rose water, and you have plenty.”

  Gigi glared at her sister, but Lillian ignored her.

  Lillian dabbed some of the rose water onto her neck, then her wrists. Satisfied, she straightened. “You’re not going to wear that ball gown, are you?”

  Gigi didn’t answer. She became suddenly interested in rearranging the shoes on the edges of the trunk.

  “You can hide it in my room if you want,” Lillian offered. “I won’t say a thing. Of course Aunt Rowena will blow her top, but you can deal with that later. Away from Mother.”

  “What?” Gigi said. “My perfect, beautiful sister is a rebel at heart?”

  Lillian’s dimple peeked out as she grinned. Oh, Lillian had dimples too, which only added to her already splendid features.

  “I might be a little jealous of your trip,” Lillian said. “Even if Bart had the money, he thinks art is boring and a waste. He doesn’t understand how it can even be a profession.”

  This surprised Gigi. First, Lillian had never said anything negative about her fiancé, and second, Gigi hadn’t known Bart was so averse to art.

  “I’ll write to you every day,” Gigi offered. “You’ll get minute details about the food and whist games and old-lady gossip.”

  Lillian laughed, but then she sobered. “Is it weak-minded to say that I’ll miss you?”

  Gigi blinked against the stinging in her eyes. In truth, as much as her sister and mother could get under her skin, they’d never been apart any length of time. “Not as pathetic as for me to say that I’ll miss you.”

  Her sister laughed again, and then they were hugging.

  “I just know you’re going to come back having seen the world,” Lillian said on a long sigh, “and you won’t want to spend time with boring old me.”

  Gigi drew away from her sister. “Well, I might finally be interesting since you got all the beauty in the family.”

  Lillian normally took compliments to heart, but this time, she said, “You’re beautiful, Gigi. You just don’t know it yet.”

  Gigi went quiet at that and turned away.

  Lillian touched her sleeve. “Gigi, maybe this trip will help you forget Jimmy Dorsal.”

  Gigi drew in her breath. Her sister knew not to speak of the man. Besides, nothing would ever make her forget. The humiliation had burrowed too deep for that. “I’ve already forgotten him.” Gigi forced a smile on her face before she turned toward her sister again. “Jimmy who?”

  Lillian laughed, but it wasn’t quite genuine.

  After the sisters’ heart-to-heart, the packing went by swiftly, and the morning of departure arrived equally swiftly. It turned out that stepping onto the train that would take them to Paris and the beginning of the Orient Express adventure was much more bittersweet than Gigi had expected. She felt like she was letting down Mrs. Stanton, and now the wedding preparations that had seemed so tedious before held more appeal. Gigi would miss an entire month’s worth.

  At least Lillian had agreed to let Gigi make the wedding dress. She would sketch some sample designs on the train, and hopefully by the time she returned to London, she’d have a beautiful, original dress designed.

  They met Aunt Rowena’s two friends and whist partners at the London train station. The two women were of indeterminable age, although Gigi guessed they were in their early sixties. First, there was Irene Martin with her owlish eyes and silver hair. She was so thin that a stiff breeze might topple her should one arise.

  Blanche Kenneth was the most friendly out of the two. She greeted Gigi with a hug and a kiss on her cheek. “You smell wonderful, Georgina. Is it rose water?”

  “Yes,” she began to say, but Blanche had already turned away to check her reflection in the windows of the train. Her immaculate hair was still in place. As they waited for boarding to start, Blanche kept up a running, and rather one-sided, commentary on the cleanliness of the station and her worries about the cleanliness of the train.

  “Don’t fuss over it, Blanche,” Aunt Rowena said. “If there is a problem, then we will complain to the conductor.”

  The ferry ride and train ride from London to Paris were uneventful, unless one counted the number of times Aunt Rowena requested that her tea be taken back. Three. Gigi sensed a collective sigh of relief from the staff and the whist club as Aunt Rowena finally nodded her approval of the current cup of tea.

  “Now,” Aunt Rowena said. “I’ve brought a list.”

  Gigi wasn’t surprised. Aunt Rowena thrived on lists, and Gigi was quite certain when the woman finally stepped from this life into the next, she’d have a to-do list for the Almighty.

  Withdrawing a notebook from her traveling satchel, Aunt Rowena tapped her cane for . . . effect? Gigi had no idea.

  “Our tour begins in Paris tomorrow,” Aunt Rowena said, looking at each member of their party in turn. “We will meet Professor Haskins and the rest of the party at 11:00 a.m. for a light luncheon, then a private tour of the Louvre. Following that, we’ll visit the Grande Palais art exhibit at the Paris Exposition.”

  “Should we eat before the light luncheon in case what we are served is inadequate?” Blanche worried.

  “What?” Irene broke in. “Will there not be enough food?”

  “I am sure there will be enough food,” Gigi said. “The brochure promised luxury meals and unforgettable desserts.”

  Everyone looked at her.

  “She’s right,” Aunt Rowena proclaimed. “We will be taken care of.”

  But Blanche’s shoulders were still stiff, and Irene’s brows had furrowed.

  Gigi began to wonder, not for the first time, what she’d gotten herself into.

  Chapter Three

  Dear Lillian,

  I’m writing this in the early hours of the morning while in our Paris hotel. Aunt Rowena is fast asleep, and I wish I could go out and explore the shops and bakeries. Divine scents have made their way to our third-floor room. My stomach is protesting greatly. No matter. Today we will join the tour, and I’ll finally meet Professor Haskins, the man Aunt Rowena has not stopped talking about . . .

  Eleven o’clock came and went, and still, Gigi and her group of women had not left the hotel. As Gigi paced the lobby, she had a sinking feeling about all of this. What if they missed the luncheon and the first museum tour? What would the professor and the others on the tour think of their gaggle of tardy women?

  Meanwhile, Gigi was left to pace the lobby and observe the comings and goings of the hotel guests. Her eye was caught by current French fashions that some of the wealthier women wore. Gigi found an available seat and began to sketch one of the dresses from memory. She couldn’t very well sketch when the lady would notice her. Soon she became so caught up in her sketching that she didn’t see Aunt Rowena and her whist friends arrive.

  “Are you ready?” Aunt Rowena said. “We’ve got to make haste.”

  Gigi popped up from her seat and put her notebook into her handbag. The women hurried out of the hotel, as fast as women in their sixties wearing heeled boots could hurry. The walk was short because they were meeting in the next hotel over. As they entered the next hotel, which was full of Turkish rugs and sparkling chandeliers, Aunt Rowena immediately inquired after the luncheon group.

  Gigi wondered about h
er role in this group of ladies. They seemed to be on their own schedule and perfectly capable of locating the first part of the tour. Aunt Rowena even spoke French to the concierge. Gigi had hoped she’d be more useful to the ladies than just a fourth whist player. But as it was, she was following after them like the runt of a puppy litter.

  “This way.” The concierge had an impeccable mustache and a deep-red uniform. “The second course is being served, but we can bring out both courses at once for your group.”

  “Wonderful!” Blanche exclaimed.

  “I’m ever so hungry, but I’m not sure I can eat any escargots,” Irene muttered.

  Gigi followed the group to a set of double doors, which the concierge opened with a flourish before leading them inside.

  Gigi’s first impression was that the tour group was full of women all around her aunt’s age, although there appeared to be three men—two older men, likely with their wives, and a man who must be in his thirties. This younger man rose to his feet immediately and strode toward them.

  His hair was nearly white, not because he was an elderly gentleman, but because it was a blond color lighter than a birch tree. He wore a dark jacket and gray trousers paired with highly polished black shoes. An energy exuded from him, and Gigi wondered if these older folks would be able to keep up with him.

  “Welcome,” he said, coming to a stop in front of their little group. His hair might have been the lightest Gigi had seen on a person, but his eyes were a dark hazel. “I’m Clyde Haskins. We’re pleased you could join us. You must be Mrs. Rowena Ballard.”

  Aunt Rowena beamed. “Yes.” She nodded at the others. “These are my friends that I wrote you about. Irene Martin and Blanche Kenneth. My niece also agreed to come—Georgina Ballard.”

  Gigi moved out from behind the group, and Professor Haskins’s gaze shifted to her. His brows shot up, and Gigi didn’t know what to make of it. Why was he surprised? Because she would be the youngest in the group?

  “Lovely to meet you,” Blanche said, and the professor’s attention was diverted to the main group again.

  “Welcome all,” he said. “Now, let me show you your table, and soon, toward the end of the meal, I’ll explain the itinerary for the rest of the day.”

  Gigi stayed close to Aunt Rowena because, again, Professor Haskins cast her a curious look. Was it really so odd that a younger person would join his tour, especially since she was accompanying her aunt?

  She tried not to look at him because his frequent glances were starting to bother her. She kept her attention on her meal of a delicious onion soup and a beef dish that Aunt Rowena informed everyone was called boeuf bourguignon. Everything was quite delicious. Of course, they were in Paris, so perhaps that was a given.

  Gigi listened absently to Aunt Rowena’s friends discussing each dish, and Blanche worried about “foreign food” not sitting right with her stomach. Gigi stole a few glances at the other tables of people. By their dress and manners, they all seemed to be English. No foreigners among them.

  As the dessert was brought out, a beautiful chocolate soufflé, Professor Haskins took his place at the front of the room. “Welcome again, everyone. It’s wonderful to meet each of you, and I’m looking forward to our shared experiences.” His smile was warming, and Gigi imagined that he’d have no trouble keeping his audience captive. All of the women at her table had forgotten their desserts and were now focused on him.

  “A few years ago, I was taking the Orient Express as a sort of vacation between semesters at the university, and I fell into a conversation with an older married couple on the train.” He gave another warm smile, and all of the women at Gigi’s table smiled back. “They were enjoying their train ride, but they were also interested in stopping at the main stations and exploring each city. Because of their age, they didn’t feel comfortable navigating all the modern changes to the cities and wished for a younger, more experienced guide. That discussion led to the idea of providing that service to others. So for two months out of the summer each year, I lead two different groups. You are the second this year.”

  Aunt Rowena clasped her hands together, hanging on his every word.

  The professor paused. “Because of this couple, who said they were in their twilight years and wanted a guided tour, I began the Twilight Tour. It allows for the members of the tour to interact with others their age and enjoy each other’s company.”

  Ah, Gigi thought. Twilight. For older people. And here she was.

  A few of the people at the other tables glanced at her, but Gigi forced a nonchalant smile and tried not to be bothered. She hadn’t come on this trip to be social with people her own age anyway. Whenever she wasn’t with her aunt, she’d be working on her designs.

  “Art has impacted all of our lives, but often we only hear about art or read about it,” the professor continued. “This tour will give you a chance to view famous art in person. An experience that is incomparable.”

  The professor talked more about the displays they’d visit at the Louvre, and Gigi tried to pay attention. She really did. But all sorts of emotions were crashing through her. Yes, her aunt had invited her, but once again, she was in a situation where she didn’t truly fit.

  And it would last for a month.

  Professor Haskins concluded his speech, and everyone finished their desserts. The professor had hired two carriages to take the group to the museum, so after a flurry of activity, Gigi climbed into one of the carriages with her group and a few others. Professor Haskins took the rear carriage with the rest of the members.

  Some of the streets were snarled with traffic—wagons, carriages, carts, and even a few automobiles—but Gigi didn’t mind. She gaped at the scenery, the buildings, and especially the people.

  “Oh, goodness, there are so many . . . foreigners,” Blanche half whispered.

  “It’s the exposition, mind you,” Irene said with authority.

  As they neared the Louvre, Gigi grasped her hat and tilted her head up to see the top turrets of the massive building.

  “It’s more beautiful than I remember,” Aunt Rowena said, awe in her voice. “I am so glad I get to see it once more before I die.”

  Gigi snapped her head around to look at her aunt. “Why would you say such a thing?”

  Aunt Rowena patted Gigi’s hand. “I’m no spring chicken any longer, Georgina.”

  The words did nothing to ease her mind. She’d never heard her aunt speak of her demise. It was disconcerting to say the least. The carriages slowed, and Gigi disembarked, then made sure her aunt and her friends got down from the carriage all right.

  After helping Aunt Rowena, who seemed strangely out of breath, Gigi turned to help Irene.

  “Thank you for your help,” a man said behind her.

  She knew it was Professor Haskins; she already recognized his voice.

  She turned and lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “It’s no trouble.”

  “Thank you all the same, Miss Ballard. Or shall I call you . . .” His eyes weren’t exactly green or brown but a mix with flecks of gold. The edge of his mouth had lifted, but he still had that puzzled look in his eyes.

  Was it really so off the mark to accompany her aunt, one who needed a cane, by the way? “Miss Ballard is fine.”

  “She’s named after me,” Aunt Rowena announced for anyone who cared to hear. “Rowena Georgina Ballard. I go by Rowena, and she goes by Georgina.”

  “Yes,” Gigi murmured. “Or Gigi is fine too.” She didn’t know why she’d added that bit. It wasn’t like she’d be friends with any members of the tour beyond this month’s experience.

  “Do we have to stand in that line?” Blanche asked, drawing everyone’s attention to the congregation of people.

  “We already have our entrance booked and our tour time scheduled,” Professor Haskins said. “Follow me.”

  The group followed the pro
fessor to a door where a guard let them inside after verifying the professor’s credentials. The moment Gigi stepped into the hallways of the Louvre, she was transfixed. They walked from room to room. The art, sculptures, and pieces of exquisite work sent awe drumming through her.

  Throughout the next two hours, she felt the professor’s puzzled gaze on her more than once. This was getting ridiculous, she decided. So when the first opportunity presented itself, she was determined to speak to him. She had to wait until they were in line to see a display and the professor stepped back so the group could move forward and get a closer look.

  Gigi joined the professor where he stood apart from the rest. Keeping her gaze on the Egyptian statues, she whispered, “I’m here with my aunt, in case you’re wondering why I’ve come at all.”

  Professor Haskins’s gaze slid to hers, then refocused on the sculpture everyone was viewing. “Anyone is welcome on the tour, Miss Ballard.”

  “I am sure that is true in theory, but you made it clear it was for those in their twilight years.” She felt his hesitation, as if he were choosing his words carefully.

  “You think I’m bothered that a younger person is part of this tour?”

  He was direct, and so she would be as well. “Are you not?”

  This time, Professor Haskins turned fully toward her. They were standing rather close after all, and she hadn’t realized how close until his complete gaze was upon her. “I am not bothered in the least.”

  “Professor Haskins,” she continued in a low tone, “you’ve frowned at me more than my mother did when I was a child getting into scrapes.”

  The professor’s mouth curved. “Scrapes? Such as?”

  “You are changing the subject, sir.”

  His smile still grew, but it seemed he’d understood the earnestness of her question. His gaze flitted across her face as if he were studying it. “When I saw you at the luncheon, I had a sudden flash of familiarity. As if we’ve met before. But that is quite impossible, don’t you agree? I haven’t been to social events for years.”