“Deal, seeing as I learned at the knee of the Queen of Clean. And if you’d ever like some help in your room too — say, before book club comes over next week? — just let me know. I’m all over it.”
Part 9
19
One can no more prevent the mind from returning to an idea than the sea from returning to a shore.
Les Misérables
Becca took me up on my offer, and for three nights in a row, we did a cleaning blitz when I got off work. The condo hadn’t been that clean since right before the wedding that wasn’t.
The following week, all the Paperback Girls except Jenna came over so Tess could give us our final Paris prep session.
“I just love your place. Especially the granite countertops and stamped concrete floor,” Kailyn said. “And how fun to live downtown.” She released a wistful sigh. “I can’t wait until I can afford to move out and have my own place.”
“You and me both,” Annette said.
“Hey!”
“It’s not that I don’t love you, honey. It’s just that your daddy and I are lookin’ forward to being empty-nesters so we can dance around the house in our underwear.” Annette waggled her eyebrows. “Or even naked if we want.”
“Eww!” Kailyn said. “TMI.”
“Yeah, Annette.” I put my hand over my eyes. “I could have gone my whole life without that visual.”
“And have some pity on those of us who don’t have dancing partners,” Paige said.
Annette turned from the bookshelves where she was checking out our hardback collection to face us. “You could have. Every one of those guys I introduced you to way back when we finished Emma were nice, eligible men, but you didn’t give them a chance.”
“Yes I did,” Tess said. “I went out with James a couple times, and you’re right, he was very nice.”
“You did?” I stared at her. “How come you never told me?”
Annette beamed at my aunt. “Tell all.”
“Yeah,” Paige said. “We want all the juicy details.”
“There’s really nothing to tell.” Tess shrugged her shoulders. “We went out to dinner twice. He’s smart and interesting, a nice guy. Good-looking too, but he spent most of the time talking about his dead wife. He’s still grieving for her — which I understand.” Tess’s eyes flickered. “He just wasn’t ready to be dating yet.”
“But that was months ago,” Annette said. “He probably is now. You should call him.”
Kailyn agreed. “Smart, nice, interesting, and hot to boot? I’d be all over that.”
“He has my number,” Tess said. “End of subject. And now if you’ll excuse me . . .”
“Well it’s nice to know that at least someone followed through on my fix-up adventure,” Annette said as Tess headed down the hall to the bathroom.
“Actually, Will did call me after our infamous karaoke/ sushi night,” I admitted, “but I didn’t go out with him. It was still too soon after Chris.”
“Yeah,” Becca kicked off her Birks and flopped down in her favorite chair. “And I went out with that ballet dude once, but he was way too uptight for me.”
“At least he wasn’t clingy,” I snarked.
Annette threw up her hands. “I give up. You girls are impossible.”
“Not me,” Paige said. “I’d have gone out with my blind date again, only he never called. Story of my life.”
Tess rejoined us and said she liked what we’d done with the bathroom. “Very fresh. What kind of candle is in there? It smelled wonderful.”
“Crème brûlée.” It took great self-control to refrain from looking triumphantly at Becca. “In honor of Paris.”
“Only six more days!” Paige clapped her hands. “Let’s get this Paris party started.”
Using both hands, I slid the heavy quilt wall hanging to one side so we could watch the travel DVD Tess had brought.
“Ooh!” Annette’s eyes glittered in big-screen envy. “My husband would kill for that TV.”
“We’re taking Super Bowl party rental reservations now,” Becca said. “Five hundred bucks, and it’s his for the day.”
“For that much, y’all better supply the buffalo wings and ranch dressing too.”
I popped in the travel DVD, and we oohed and aahed our way through the wonders of Paris, making notes of the sights that were must-sees. The only thing that gave us pause was when the travel host tried steak tartare.
Kailyn shuddered. “No way would I ever eat raw meat.”
“You eat sushi all the time.”
“That’s different. It’s not beef. I don’t want to get mad cow disease.”
“You can get that even when beef is cooked.”
“Well, simonella or whatever. You know what I mean. Eating raw beef is just gross.”
“For once, you and I are in agreement,” Becca said. “And it’s salmonella, by the way.”
Tess cleared her throat. “Since our date with Paris is just a few days away, I wanted to offer some last-minute tips that will make things easier once we arrive. First off, contrary to the impression that everyone has about the French, they’re not rude. They just do things differently than we do — they’re a little more formal than we are,” she said. “And since we’re visiting their country, it seems only appropriate to make an effort to learn a little about their culture and how to act when we’re there.”
Annette nodded. “Such as always saying ‘Bonjour, Madame,’ or ‘Bonjour, Monsieur’ anytime you walk into a shop or restaurant. I learned that the hard way when I went there on leave years ago. To the French, it’s very rude to walk into a shop and not greet them with a polite ‘Bonjour.’ ”
“Exactly. And while we’re at it,” Tess sent an apologetic look to Annette. “It’s not ‘bone-joor.’ The accent goes on the first syllable, but very lightly.” She illustrated with a musical lift. “Boh-zhur. Also,” she continued, “if you at least make an effort to speak their language, you’ll find the French quite helpful and accommodating.” She handed us all laminated, credit-card-sized lists printed with what she considered the Top Ten phrases to help us get by in Paris:
Hello or good day: Bonjour
Please: S’il vous plaît
Thank you: Merci
Do you speak English?: Parlez-vous anglais?
I don’t understand: Je ne comprends pas
I don’t speak French: Je ne parle pas français
I’m sorry: Désolé(e)
Excuse me (to get one’s attention): Excusez-moi
Excuse me (to pass): Pardon
Good-bye: Au revoir
Kailyn scanned her list and frowned. “What about ‘how much’?”
“That’s my shopaholic daughter.”
“Actually, that’s a very good question, since I’m assuming you’ll all want to buy souvenirs,” Tess said. “What you would say is, ‘Combien, s’il vous plaît? ’ Which translates to ‘How much, please?’ ”
“How do you spell that first word?” Paige asked, her pen poised over her pocket-sized travel journal.
“C-o-m-b-i-e-n.”
I scribbled in my travel journal too.
“What about ‘I ate too much pâté and I need to find a potty right now?’ ” Becca asked.
Kailyn giggled.
Tess didn’t even bat an eye. “Où sont les toilettes? Where are the toilets?” She continued with her helpful hints. “Make sure you always have small change on you since many restrooms cost to use.” The corners of her mouth curved upward. “And don’t be surprised to find unisex bathrooms or men’s and women’s rooms that share a common lobby.”
Kailyn’s eyes widened. “Serious? Are we supposed to say ‘Bonjour’ in the bathroom?”
It wasn’t the bathrooms that concerned me.
I picked at my cuticles. “Tell me again that flying’s not a big deal. That people do it all the time. And we’re not going to crash into the ocean and be shark food.”
“Flying’s not a big deal,” Paige said. “
People do it all the time.”
“And we’re not going to crash in the ocean,” Annette added.
“You just need to do what my girlfriend Cameron does whenever she flies,” Kailyn said.
“What’s that?”
“Take a Valium.”
“Better living through chemistry.” Becca grinned.
“Chloe?” Tess sent me a gentle look filled with love. “Who’s in charge of your life? Remember, ‘not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your father knowing it. And the very hairs on your head are all numbered.’ ”
I did know that. But what if my number was up?
The next morning, since it was once again my week to bring treats to Sunday school, I dropped by the grocery store on the way to church to pick up some bagels and cream cheese along with a few muffins and doughnuts.
Including one with chocolate sprinkles.
When I entered the empty Sunday school room, my arms full of goodies, Ryan was there, measuring out coffee into the coffee urn.
“Bonjour, Ryan. Comment allez-vous? ”
“Don’t rub it in, brat.”
I gave him an innocent look as I set down my purse. “What do you mean?”
“What do I mean?” He mimicked me. “While some people are cruising around Paris having the time of their lives, the rest of us will be slaving in the salt mines.”
I gave him the Gallic shrug I’d seen in so many French films. “Désolée. C’est la vie.”
He put the lid on the coffee pot and hit the on button. “I don’t suppose there’s room on this Paperback Girls trip for a paperback boy, is there?”
“Sorry. Girls only.”
“I could go along as your luggage carrier.” He threw me a hopeful look.
“No need. I’m only taking one small rollaway suitcase.” I began arranging the pastries on a platter. “But thanks for the generous offer.”
“Official food taster? You never know what you’re going to get in those fancy French restaurants. Snails, fish heads, liver, tongue, even eyeballs. My taste buds and cast-iron stomach would be willing to run the Fear Factor gauntlet for your sensitive little stomach.”
“No thanks. And my stomach’s not sensitive. Have you forgotten who was the last person standing at the salsa bar challenge, Mr. Whoa-there’s-a-lot-of-jalapeños-in-this?”
“You got me there. But I have only one word for you.” He fixed me with a steady gaze. “Sushi.”
“Sushi’s the last thing I’ll be eating in Paris. I’m thinking more coq au vin, cassoulet, and crème brûlée. And chocolate éclairs, of course.”
Ryan shook his head sadly. “Oh well. Maybe someday before I’m old and gray I’ll get the chance to visit the most beautiful city in the world.”
“So what’s stopping you? Haven’t you ever heard of carpe diem? Seize the day, my friend. Seize the day.”
“Chloe?” He cupped his ears and drew his eyebrows together in a puzzled line. “The woman before me looks like my friend, but she doesn’t sound like her. Those words would never pass her practical lips.”
I lobbed a packet of cream cheese at him and missed.
He dropped his hands from his ears. “It is Chloe. You still throw like a girl.”
“You wouldn’t want me to change everything, would you?”
“Not at all. Then you wouldn’t be the Chloe we all know and love.” Ryan’s eyes flickered, and for a second I thought I saw a glimpse of — I don’t know — something. But he bent down and scooped up the packet of cream cheese from the floor, holding it with both hands like a basketball and arced it into the trash can.
“Score! Two points, thank you very much.” He wiped his hands on his pants. “I hope you have a great time. Take lots of pictures and climb to the top of the Eiffel Tower for me, okay?”
“Deal.” We shook on it.
The Sunday school class began drifting in and Ryan released my hand, but not before leaning over and whispering, “And watch out for those French guys. Don’t be taken in by their smooth ways and romantic accents.”
Who knew so many people in my life wanted to go to Paris?
That afternoon when I stopped by my parents’ house to give Mom the extra key to my apartment so she could water my plants in our absence, she yielded a wistful look. “I’ve always wanted to go to Paris,” she said. “Ever since I saw Leslie Caron dance with Gene Kelly in that white skirt on the banks of the river.” She released a dreamy sigh. “And then when Phantom of the Opera came out, oh my! That opera house was so beautiful. I wonder if it’s really like that in real life. Are you and Tess planning to go there?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe.” I slid her a tentative glance. “I never knew you wanted to go to Paris.” I was beginning to get the feeling that there were a lot of things about my mother I didn’t know. I hesitated, knowing it was way too last-minute. “Would you like to come with us?”
“Oh goodness, no, honey. This is a group trip with your book club and I’m not a part of that. You know I’m not much of a reader. Besides, I can’t leave Julia. She’s still a little uncertain with Sophie.” She beamed her proud grandma smile. “Isn’t she the most beautiful baby you’ve ever seen? She’s getting so big!”
Tess had advised us to travel light for our weeklong trip and to take only one carry-on piece of luggage and a backpack or oversized purse, so we wouldn’t have to spend so much time at baggage claim and customs. So to prepare, Becca and I decided we should do a practice run first to see what would fit in our limited luggage.
Becca threw all her clothes into her suitcase and zipped up the bulging bag in less than ten minutes. “Voilà! ”
I continued to fold each shirt, skirt, and pair of pants neatly into thirds lengthwise, and then rolled each item into a tight jelly roll and carefully tucked it into my suitcase, while my roommate watched, bemused. “Ah, the ever orderly Chloe.”
“In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines,” I recited.
She looked at me blankly.
“Gotcha!” I smirked. “You don’t recognize Madeline?”
“Is that anything like Eloise?”
I straightened the folders on my desk, having already handed off my pending projects to my coworker Todd, set up my email to out-of-office automatic reply, and logged off my computer.
Then I headed down to the break room to retrieve my lunch tote from the fridge.
As I approached the break area, I could hear the familiar drone of the gossip girls.
“Can you believe Janelle?” Betty Jo was saying. “Where does she get off telling me what to do?”
“She thinks she’s so — ” Michelle broke off as I entered.
Carol offered a plastic smile over her strawberry yogurt.
“Bonjour,” I said to the snarky trio as I walked over to the fridge and removed my plaid lunch tote. “Please, don’t let me interrupt. I’m just off to Paris for a week with a friend.” I gave a little wave. “Au revoir.”
The buzz began before I’d even left the room.
20
All around us are people, of all classes, of all nationalities, of all ages.
Murder on the Orient Express
I clenched the armrest, squeezed my eyes shut tight, and tried to focus on Rosemary Clooney in my ear buds in an effort to drown out the high-pitched whine and roar of the engines as the plane hurtled down the runway.
And then we were off. Up, up, and away. My doctor-prescribed Valium kicked in, and I was able to look out the window at the patchwork fields below without losing my cookies.
I thought back to a year ago at this time when Becca first suggested we step out of our comfort zones and start to live out some of the adventures in the books we read. Who’d have imagined we’d have come so far? Except Becca. Although she had her faults — which I saw up close and personal living with her, and they sometimes drove me crazy — I had to give her credit. Thanks to her, we were on our way to Paris. I hit my French mu
sic playlist, leaned back, and lost myself in “La Vie en Rose.”
“No wonder French women don’t get fat,” Annette said as our motley crew huffed and puffed our way through the long, dark Paris Metro tunnels. “It’s all these miles of walking they have to do.”
“I’ll say,” Kailyn grumbled as she adjusted her shoulder bags. “I’ll take my Civic any day.”
“C’est fou ça! ” Tess said. “I told you not to pack more than you could carry.”
With a travel agent as an aunt, I’d learned to pack light early in life. Backpacker Becca too.
Annette and Kailyn? Not so much.
Kailyn was laden with a massive rolling pink suitcase, a hanging clothes bag over each shoulder, a heavy-duty makeup case, and, of course, her latest designer purse. For just a week.
Annette was a mirror image of her daughter, minus one shoulder bag.
We took pity on the overloaded duo and relieved them of their hanging bags — distributing them among the rest of us. Guess I should have taken Ryan up on his luggage bearer offer after all.
As we rounded a bend in the underground tunnel, civilization appeared in the form of a multitude of carts, stands, and shops offering myriad tantalizing treasures calculated to inspire lust in every die-hard shopaholic’s heart.
Kailyn moved as if in a trance to a cart full of leather handbags. “Ooh, check out all the fab purses! I have to get one.”
“We didn’t come to Paris to shop,” Paige reminded her. “We came to cook.”
“Maybe you did, but I’m not going to be in the fashion capital of the world and not stop to buy something.”
“Right now you are,” Becca said. “You’ll have plenty of time to shop later. Keep moving so we can get to the hotel and dump all this stuff and start exploring.”
Kailyn wrenched herself away from the purse stand with a heavy sigh and yanked her mega suitcase behind her.
“Mon dieu!” a trim, well-dressed, thirty-something woman said as the heavy case banged into her ankle. She let loose a stream of what I can only imagine were invectives in French.
Daring Chloe Page 18