One Step Ahead

by J. J. Kapka

  Maddie looked up to see Thierry silently watching as the wheels turned in her head. She was grateful he hadn’t interfered with her decision-making process. Who knows? she thought. I might have backed off if he had applied the least little bit of pressure. “Sure, I’d love to,” Maddie said, instantly hoping she hadn’t sounded too eager.

  “Bon. Then let me ask you this. Do you mind walking there, or are you too tired?” Thierry asked solicitously. “It’s quite beautiful to walk up along the left bank in the evening with the lights and the warm summer air.”

  Oh my, Maddie thought, this is sounding suspiciously romantic. But then, so what if is? “That would be wonderful, better than going to sleep early in my hotel room.”

  Setting off at a leisurely pace, they ambled in the direction of the ice cream shop Thierry had earlier noted. At this level above the water, there were even more things to see and learn about. Like the stalls of the booksellers that they passed. They were shuttered for the day, but Thierry informed her they were chock-a-block full of all kinds of printed things, from antique books to prints, maps, and humdrum paperbacks. On the opposite side of the street were numerous antique shops, in the windows of which were some gargantuan pieces, some of them markedly evocative of the times of the French kings.

  As they drew closer and passed by Notre Dame again, the antique shops gave way to a host of restaurants with tables spilling along the sidewalks, the diners happily ingesting and imbibing as they took in the stunning tableau across the river. Coming to a beautifully carved bridge, they started across to Thierry’s small island. Halfway over, however, he turned her around and pointed out the windows of the famous Tour d’Argent restaurant. Talk about a room with a view, Maddie thought in awe.

  Turning back to resume their walk toward the island, she moved too quickly and nearly slipped off the curb. She stumbled backward to keep from stepping into traffic. Thierry quickly reached out and grabbed her, saving her from an embarrassing face-plant on the busy sidewalk, no doubt to the amusement of the well-heeled diners in the Tour d’Argent.

  “Oh, thanks so much,” Maddie said with relief. “That was foolish of me. My eyes were ahead of my feet,” she explained, slightly shaken.

  “Are you all right?” Thierry asked, still grasping her arms to be sure she was steady.

  “Yes…yes, I’m fine,” Maddie answered, slightly unnerved by Thierry’s close proximity. Eager to move on from the awkward episode, she stood up straight and asked, “So where is this ice cream place, anyway?”

  “Right this way.” Thierry smiled, dropping his hands and extending his arm to show the way.

  At the end of the bridge, they found themselves in a confluence of pathways: the three lengthwise streets of the small island, which merged together, and another bridge leading to the adjoining Isle de Cité. At this apex, a crowd had congregated to watch a mime performing on the sidewalk, laughing uproariously as he darted out to accost the occasional car and execute his pantomime at the unsuspecting driver’s expense.

  Maddie and Thierry watched and laughed for several iterations, and then Thierry grasped her elbow and steered her in the direction of the middle street. As they rounded a bend, Maddie took in the small-town feel of the street, with its softly lit restaurants and convivial pedestrians sauntering along, both on the sidewalk and in the street itself. She marveled at this oasis of calm and charm tucked inside the heart of such a major city.

  After a short stroll past a block of distracting shop fronts, Thierry led her up to a takeaway window and pointed out a sign listing a whole host of ice cream flavors. “What would you like?” he queried.

  “Surprise me,” Maddie invited, unwilling to admit that she couldn’t translate most of the names. She watched as Thierry cocked his head and examined the list from top to bottom before stepping up to the counter to place his order in rapid-fire French. Shortly thereafter, he turned around and presented Maddie with a double-cone, albeit with small scoops. When he’d been given his as well, they continued their walk. Maddie asked what he’d chosen for her.

  “Guess,” he instructed her.

  “Hmmm,” Maddie said between licks, enjoying the challenge thoroughly. “Is this one something with coconut?”

  “Very good.” Thierry nodded approvingly.

  “Now this other one,” Maddie continued, slipping down to the lower scoop on the cone and wrinkling her brow, “is a bit tougher. It tastes like some kind of nut.”

  “Right again,” Thierry remarked. “It’s hazelnut, I think you call it.”

  “You couldn’t have chosen any better. They’re both delicious.”

  And they truly were. The flavors were rich and pleasantly free of the tang of additives or cheap ingredients so many takeaway cones had back home. Maddie relished the simple pleasure of letting each of the two flavors linger on her tongue before sliding creamily down her throat. As they walked, she peered into the various shop fronts and restaurants and resolved that she’d come back to this picturesque haven for a meal.

  Seeming to read her thoughts, Thierry said, “This restaurant here and that one there across the street, they are two of my favorites.”

  “You know,” Maddie ventured, “I was just thinking, I’ll have to come back here to eat before I leave. I’m so glad you’ve shown me this place. I never would have thought to come here on my own.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Thierry said distractedly. “I’m glad you like it.”

  Maddie raised her eyebrows, but decided not to say anything, instead continuing her visual exploration of the windows, which contained everything from a panoply of oils and vinegars to temptingly arrayed sweets, to antiques arranged just so. At one point, they reached one of the tiniest restaurants she’d ever seen. A small sign over the doorway read, Crêperie.

  “Do they really make crêpes here?” Maddie asked eagerly.

  “Oui. There are restaurants that specialize only in crêpes, and they serve all sorts. There is a savory type called galette that they fill with things like cheese, mushrooms, tomatoes, or ham. And then there are the sweet ones that you are probably more familiar with. This crêperie is another favorite of mine; they have cidre, a kind of cider with alcohol that is common in the western part of France where I live.”

  Maddie was grateful she’d had a full dinner. Otherwise, she’d have stopped at five different places by now, as everything was so tempting. When they reached a cross street, Maddie looked to her left. She could see yet another bridge arching over the Seine, this one leading to the Right Bank.

  Thierry pointed out a sign hanging from one of the stores. “That’s another Berthillon shop, but it is more like a café rather than just takeaway.”

  They crossed the street and continued on down the next block. As they reached the latter half, the storefronts petered out, and the facades changed to those of private homes and a few hotels. Finally, they came to the other end of the little isle and crossed over the ending join of the three streets. Gazing out over the Seine, they took the last few bites of their cones.

  Thierry sighed, turned to Maddie, and said, “I hope you will not think me too forward, but I’ve very much enjoyed your company tonight. Showing you these few bits of Paris has helped me to see it all as though it were new again. I was wondering if perhaps you are not busy tomorrow, maybe we can meet and again explore the city. I’m here for a few more days, and I’d like to spend more time with you. That is, if you are free,” he added hopefully.

  Maddie hesitated only a few seconds before answering with an emphatic yes. She’d had a terrific time with Thierry and very much appreciated getting an insider’s perspective on this amazing city. Should she be reading any more into it than companionship? Maybe yes, maybe no, she thought. Only time will tell for sure.

  Thierry appeared pleased when she agreed. As they started back toward the busier section of the isle, he mentioned that he was visiting with some relatives in the morning, but could meet her at her hotel around noon. Still happily chatting about all manner of
subjects, they headed toward the Right Bank and boarded the nearby Métro together. Thierry got off first to change trains, dashing away with a genial wave of his hand. Maddie had to switch only one stop later to the line that would take her back to her hotel.

  Dreamily climbing the stairs out of the Métro station, she mused about the seductive powers of Paris: of place, of food, and most of all, of relationships. She had never in her wildest dreams imagined spending her night like this when she’d first pictured herself exploring Paris on her own. The satisfying turn of events had been just what the doctor ordered to take her mind off her troubles and focus it on the wonderment of possibilities that lay at her feet.

  ~~~

  July 2—Morning

  The next morning, Maddie took the hotel elevator down into the basement, which is where the desk clerk had said breakfast was served. She had to admit that, although she’d liked the hotel very much so far, she was rather skeptical about eating breakfast in a basement. However, when the doors opened and she stepped out, she was surprised by the cozy dining area encompassed by beautiful old stone walls and hammered metal sconces.

  A waitress smiled at her and motioned her to an empty table. “Café?” she asked.

  “Café, s’il vous plaît,” Maddie answered, pleased that she’d finally had the courage to try out her French, however briefly.

  The young lady pointed to the buffet bar in the far corner before leaving to get Maddie’s coffee.

  Maddie found the fresh-looking assortment impressive. The arrangement included not only the expected croissants, but Danish pastries, yogurts, a large selection of fruits, and a tempting platter of cold cuts and cheeses. Happily noting the croissant basket also included pain au chocolat, she quickly snapped up one, along with a bowl of fruit and a container of yogurt.

  Maddie arrived back at her table as the waitress delivered both a pot of coffee and another pot, which upon inspection, Maddie discovered contained hot milk. “Ah, café au lait,” she said to herself in recognition. Because the coffee seemed to be of greater strength than her normal brew, she set about mingling the two hot liquids in her cup until the color approximated her usual coffee. Pulling off a piece of pain au chocolat, which appeared to be freshly baked that morning, she sat back and savored the two rich tastes: the sweetly bitter chocolate, encased in the buttery layers of the croissant pastry, and the still-strong coffee, which, thanks to the hot milk, remained piping hot. Mmmmm, Madison thought with satisfaction. This is what I’ve always dreamed a continental breakfast could be.

  After bellying up to the buffet bar a second time for another irresistible serving of pain au chocolat, as well as more fruit and yogurt, she was more than ready to set out for some exercise. The added jolt of the strong coffee was an additional energizer, and she didn’t want to waste one minute of time lazing around her room with so much to be seen in the city. Knowing Thierry would likely have more great tourist sites in store for her in the afternoon, she decided that the morning might be a good time to start to explore the famous shopping of Paris. She set out in the direction of the grands magasins, the big department stores that were within easy walking distance of her hotel.

  She didn’t get very far down the street, however, before being distracted by one attractive window display after another. Many of the shops appeared small on the inside, but judging from the beautifully arranged goods in the windows, their quality more than made up for the lack of space. She wandered in and out of numerous places, finding more than one item she couldn’t live without.

  By the time she approached the doors of the legendary Galleries Lafayette, her arms were already strung with several shopping bags. Having come this far, though, she wasn’t to be deterred. Gamely pushing open the doors, she began an exhaustive and rewarding exploration of as many of the departments as she had time to cover. Best of all was the floor devoted to local designers, which, while not haute couture, still had a great variety of distinctive and well-made outfits that sorely tempted Maddie.

  The limitations of time and her purse combined to pare down her selections to only a few out of the many she liked. Realizing she needed to get ready to move on to the afternoon’s activities with Thierry, she reluctantly headed down the escalators to the VAT—value-added tax—section to initiate the refund of the very high goods tax on the items that she was entitled to as a card-carrying tourist. To her dismay, she found the line already long, and looking over to the clerks, she didn’t think the processing was going very quickly. Consulting her watch, she realized she’d really have to hustle to get back to the hotel in time to drop off her purchases and meet Thierry in the lobby, so she resolved to return at a later time to essay the bureaucracy of the rebate.

  ~~~

  July 2

  Although Maddie walked as fast as possible for a human festooned in a frightening array of shopping bags, Thierry was already in the lobby waiting for her when she rushed in the front door. He broke into a wide grin when he recognized her, which turned into a chuckle as he took in the sight of her many purchases flapping and dangling about her.

  Maddie apologized. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I got caught up with the shopping, but I hurried back here as quickly as I could.”

  Thierry brushed off her confession. “Please don’t worry. I am a little early. My aunt had a lunchtime appointment, and since she lives not so far from here, I thought I might come by and see if you were in. But never mind, let me help you with your bags.” He deftly transferred nearly all of them onto his own arms and escorted her over to the elevator.

  Too breathless to protest, Maddie willingly followed him into the small lift and punched in her floor. With Thierry carrying the majority of the bags, she was at least able to pull out her key without dropping everything. Ushering Thierry into the room, she said, “Just drop everything on the bed. I’ll figure out what I’m going to do with it later.”

  Thierry gently deposited the bags as she’d directed, and Maddie did the same. Brushing up against his arms in the process, she felt a schoolgirlish thrill at his proximity. She blushed, almost as much from embarrassment as from the contact itself. She knew Thierry couldn’t help but notice her color as he stood and turned toward her. She saw his eyes sparkle as he gently laid his hands on her shoulders and bent down to brush his lips against her cheek.

  “I felt it, too,” he whispered, to Maddie’s shock.

  She was ready to stutter a denial, but he’d already brought his arm down to grab one of her hands and pull her toward the door, saying only, “Come, I’ve got a lot planned for us.”

  Maddie could only follow along in stunned silence, grateful to this kind Frenchman who seemed to have an extraordinary sense of perception for exactly how to treat her. Just kind enough, without being pushy or overbearing. Gentlemanly, but with just the right touch of feeling at the exact moment it was needed. He was likely some kind of gift that the gods had bestowed on her just when she needed him most.

  Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, she blindly followed him into the elevator. Agonizingly aware that he hadn’t let go of her hand, she felt a jolt of electricity coursing between them. She shyly looked sideways up at him and found him gazing down at her. When he mouthed the word “still,” she knew he meant he was feeling the same thing. That, too, sent a thrill through her body. She was starting to find it hard to breathe. Just as she was feeling she’d have to respond, the door opened. Gratefully, she walked out into the lobby, pretending she had herself under control.

  As they crossed the threshold of the lobby onto the sidewalk, Maddie looked up expectantly at Thierry. He gently placed a hand on her back to steer her to the left. Just as Maddie was about to ask where they were going, he volunteered, “I thought you might be interested to see one of our older residential areas, the Marais. It is on this side of the river, but we will need to take the Métro to get there.”

  They passed the time on the Métro talking idly about her little shopping spree before they emerged in the vicinity of t
he Marais, whereupon Thierry commenced a fascinating dialogue about the history of the area. As they walked deeper into the suddenly more quiet and staid streets, Maddie gazed silently at the perfectly designed squares and the old housefronts and garden walls, feeling as though she’d been transported back in time. Thierry kept up his fascinating discourse, pointing out particular houses of interest and describing who their special occupants had been, including Alexander Dumas and Cardinal Richelieu.

  After almost three hours of strolling the length and breadth of the quarter, Maddie stopped short in her tracks, humiliated when her stomach let out a grumble of hunger with great gusto.

  Upon hearing her stomach’s plea, Thierry stopped too, his eyes large saucers, as if to say he couldn’t believe his ears. But he strode back a step to reach her and bent down to look in her eyes. “How thoughtless of me,” he exclaimed, “walking and talking all this time, and I never even asked if you’d like lunch. Well, we can fix that tout de suite. Come,” he exhorted, “there is a perfect place not far from here where we can make amends with your hunger and rest our feet from all of this walking.”

  Maddie eagerly stepped up her pace, and before long, they found themselves in a cozy neighborhood bistro with a wide choice of tables now that the lunchtime crowd was thinning out. Settling themselves into a corner spot at one of the small tables positioned by a long, padded bench with accompanying facing chairs, they unfolded their menus enthusiastically. This place was far enough off the beaten path that there was no English translation. Maddie soon found herself struggling to translate each item and its description, word by painfully slow word. Just as she thought smoke would come out of her ears with the effort, a grinning Thierry lifted the menu from her hands. “May I make a recommendation?” he ventured.

  “Please do,” Maddie said gratefully. “I, well, I thought perhaps I could figure it out myself, but…”