Paris Summer

by April Lynn Kihlstrom

  She shoved past Janine and set her packages on the table, then hugged Mark.

  “Entrez” he said affably to Janine.

  “How did you get in?” she asked suspiciously as she set down her load.

  “He’s got a key, silly,” Rena answered. “But what are you doing here? I thought you were going to be working on math all day.”

  “I was, but I decided to take the two of you out to dinner this evening.”

  “Where?” Rena demanded eagerly.

  “Oh, the Vietnamese place,” Mark replied, smiling affectionately as he stroked Rena’s hair. “And afterward I thought we could show your sister around St. Michel and sample some Tunisian pastry.” He turned to Janine. “Comment ca va?”

  “Ca va bien, “she replied tersely.

  “Oh, Mark!” Rena protested. “You shouldn’t have teased Jenny like that, showing off your French!”

  “I thought she spoke French very well herself,” he answered, “especially since you said she’s never been to France before. But I’m sorry if it bothered you…Jenny, isn’t it?”

  “Janine, actually,” she said, thawing slightly.

  “Janine,” he repeated. “Well, I hope you like Vietnamese food.”

  “I’ve never had it,” she replied, “but I suspect I will like it. You’ll have to suggest what to order.”

  He nodded. Rena started putting the food away. “Sit down, both of you,” she said. “Jenny is interested in math, too, Mark.”

  “Oh?” he said politely.

  “I teach in the math department of a small community college just outside of New York City.”

  “She might be interested in going to some of the math talks at the university,” Rena interjected.

  “I hardly think she’d be interested or have the background to understand them,” Mark said, somewhat condescendingly.

  Janine bristled. “Perhaps I should be the judge of what sort of talks would or would not be appropriate. Are there any in abstract algebra?”

  “Yes. Every Tuesday, but…”

  “Good. What time and where do they meet?”

  Mark shrugged. “Two o’clock. If you’ve got a map I can show you where the Faculte des Sciences is, how to get there, and the numbering system of the buildings. That is, if you’re sure…”

  “I am.”

  “All right. The Faculte des Sciences consists of a gridlike pattern of towers connected above ground by corridors. Each tower is numbered, and the corridors are designated by the numbers of the towers at each end. Floors are numbered RC, first, second, and so on. The room is in forty-five forty-six and is numbered three-oh-one dash three-oh-three. That means it’s on the third floor in the corridor between towers forty-five and forty-six, and the room is oh-one dash oh-three. Got that?”

  “Why do they use RC?” Rena asked.

  “Rez de chaussee means street level,” Mark explained. He turned back to Janine. “You can catch the Metro at Mabillon and get off at Jussieu, or you could walk. The lecture will be in French, you know.”

  “Surprise, surprise,” Janine answered coolly. “It will be good practice for my French then, if nothing else, won’t it?”

  “Hey, truce,” Rena commanded. “Here’s a map. On the back it shows the Metro lines, too.”

  Mark glanced at Janine. She was smiling a little too sweetly, it seemed to him. But Mark forced himself to calmly discuss the various routes to the Faculte des Sciences. Then he asked Rena, “How was your sightseeing?”

  Rena launched into a description of the day, and Mark smiled affectionately as he listened. When the torrent of words finally ceased, he commented, “You seem to have made an impression on Sandy, Janine.”

  She was startled. “You ran into him?”

  “No, I just happened to talk to Alan over the phone and he mentioned it.”

  Janine’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. Mark looked slightly uncomfortable, she thought. Was that possible? Just happened to speak to Alan over the phone? Anyway, Mark’s comment seemed to require a response of some sort. “He was rather interesting,” she said coolly, suspecting that this information would be passed on.

  “Rather interesting?” Rena exclaimed. “That’s how you describe someone who makes you blush and your eyes sparkle?”

  Mark chuckled, regarding Janine with slightly raised eyebrows. She certainly seemed indifferent about Sandy now, but Alan had also seemed to think Rena’s sister had been impressed. “I gather Sandy is rather wealthy,” he said casually.

  Janine did not miss, however, the hint of speculation in Mark’s voice. Her eyes flared but she forced herself to accept the notion that he was not implying what she thought he meant. She said calmly, “I gather he makes a point of telling everyone he is.”

  “Maybe he thinks it will help him find a wife,” Rena suggested. “Alan says Sandy’s father has offered him a house if he gets married soon and if he finds a `proper’ wife. Though what he means by `proper’ I’m not sure.”

  “Oh, someone with good manners, intelligent, welldressed, the right way of carrying herself, obedient, interested in children. That sort of thing, I imagine,” Mark commented. “Someone who can be counted on to behave conventionally.”

  “How dull!” Rena said. “What do you think, Jenny?”

  “I think Sandy is quite capable of making up his own mind about what sort of wife he wants. And I suspect that although she may not fit all of your specifications, Mark, his father will have to approve. I certainly don’t think Sandy wants a puppet for a wife, nor do I think Sandy will marry just because his father offers him a house!”

  Mark stared at Janine knowingly. “Calm down,” Rena said. “We weren’t knocking Sandy; just his father, a little. Mark,” she said hesitantly, changing the subject, “you don’t mind the fact that we spent the day with Alan and Sandy, do you?”

  He smiled oddly. “No, dear. I trust Alan with you and it’s clear Sandy was more interested in Janine.”

  “You know,” Rena said slowly, “it’s the first time a guy paid more attention to Jenny than to me.”

  Mark chuckled. “You’ve finally got competition, my love, and I think that might be a very good thing.”

  Janine sighed. “I hardly think I’d have been competition if Rena had seriously tried to attract Sandy.”

  Mark looked skeptical but Rena smiled. “That’s true. But now that I’ve got you, Mark, I don’t try any more.

  Janine felt tired. “If we’re going out to dinner, I think I’ll wash my hair. Can I use your hair dryer, Rena?”

  “Sure. You know where the towels are? Good. Shampoo is by the tub.”

  Janine escaped to the bedroom, closing the door after her. She wanted very much to get along with Mark, but it was going to be difficult. Why, oh, why did he have to be so antagonistic? It was only then that she realized he had talked of trusting Alan and Sandy but not of trusting Rena.

  Janine felt much better after a leisurely bath. As she used the blow dryer on her hair, she even began to wonder if perhaps she had been too defensive with Mark. Perhaps she had read too much into what he had said. At any rate, she would seriously try to get along with him this evening. He was obviously good for Rena. He seemed to honestly care about her and was unlikely to suddenly drop her as many of her recent boy friends had done. Yes, upon reflection Janine certainly did approve of Mark for her sister, and he was the only one she had approved of since Alex. By the time Rena came in to dress for dinner, Janine was feeling quite charitable toward Mark.

  “What do you think of him?” Rena demanded.

  “I’m glad you found him,” Janine answered sincerely. “Oh, we rub each other the wrong way, but I do think he’s right for you. What should we wear for dinner?” she added with some concern.

  “Skirts, but nothing dressy,” Rena replied immediately.

  When Janine presented for inspection a sleeveless print dress with a blouse as a jacket, Rena nodded enthusiastically. Janine had bought it just for the trip, splurging for once.
She had finished buttoning the last button when she turned and saw Rena. Dismay flashed through her. Nothing dressy, Rena had said, but she was wearing a short red dress that looked as if it were meant for a discotheque. Something must have shown on her face because Rena immediately said anxiously, “Don’t be angry, Jenny. I just want to show Mark I’m, well, that I don’t really have competition. I don’t want him getting too complacent.”

  Janine shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

  She was rather listless as she put on her makeup, and Rena was ready long before Janine. Mark looked up as she came into the living room. He glanced quickly from Rena to Janine but said nothing. “I’m finally ready,” she said lightly.

  As they walked to St. Michel, Janine said very little while Rena chattered on. Mark occasionally tried to draw Janine into the conversation but Rena would, just as dextrously, bring it back to a tete-a-tete with Mark. They took a route that went past the market and down narrow streets, finally emerging at Boulevard St. Michel. Across the boulevard was a section of short, intersecting streets. Mark explained that this was a very popular place for young tourists. It was not crowded because it was still somewhat early for dinner by French standards-only seven o’clock. The Vietnamese restaurant was completely deserted except for the staff. It was clearly a family business. Mark ordered in French, then explained, “I hope you don’t mind, Janine. I thought we’d order four dishes and share them. That way we each get much more variety.”

  Janine smiled. “Sure. Why not?”

  He paused, then said, “They’ll give us chopsticks, of course, but I can ask for regular silverware for you if you’d like.”

  “Not on your life!” she retorted. “One of the things I enjoy about Oriental food is getting to eat with chopsticks.”

  Mark grinned, obviously relieved. “By the way, I hear I have your approval.”

  “Oh, yes,” Janine responded gaily. “In the words of our mother, you aren’t nearly as bad for Rena as the last man…whoever he was.”

  Mark laughed. “Yes, I gathered your mother might be a problem. So will mine, but fortunately there isn’t anything they can do about it.”

  “Oh, Mark,” Rena protested. “Once we’re married Mom will accept you right away.”

  “True,” Janine agreed. “Mom doesn’t fight a fait accompli.”

  “Yes, well, that’s some time off yet,” Mark said quietly. “By the way, Janine, perhaps you should wear that outfit the next time you see Sandy. He prefers women to wear skirts instead of pants.”

  “You seem to know a great deal about Sandy,” Janine retorted impatiently, “but quite frankly I do not care to discuss him with you. Nor do I care what his preferences are. I have just met Sandy and I am not at all convinced I will ever see him again.”

  “Oh, Jenny!” Rena said in exasperation.

  Before Rena could say anything more, the soup arrived. After a short silence, Rena began to chatter again. She and Mark more or less ignored Janine, who was just as glad to be left alone. The food was delicious and she concentrated on eating. Eventually she began to relax. Noting this, Mark hazarded, “Save room for dessert, Janine.”

  She smiled. “That’s right. You did say something about Tunisian pastry.”

  Rena looked down at herself ruefully. “I shouldn’t even eat all this, much less pastry. I’ll gain weight.”

  “Well, we wouldn’t want to force you,” Janine responded teasingly. “I’m sure Mark won’t mind if you stick to plain rice.”

  “I’m surprised you’re eating so much, Janine,” Mark said frankly. “You look as if you must stay on a rather strict diet.”

  “Oh, Jenny never has to worry about her weight,” Rena said petulantly.

  “Not true!” Janine said sharply. “Actually I have trouble gaining weight, and it’s just as bad to be gawky and underweight as it is to be overweight.”

  “I recommend you do a serious study of Parisian patisseries” Mark said solemnly. “That should take care of your problem, Janine. And Rena, I think she’s right boiled rice and tea for you.”

  Janine giggled and after a moment Rena joined her. Mark drew his eyebrows together. “Giggling? I absolutely forbid giggling. I demand proper decorum from ladies I escort to dinner!”

  Her eyes wet with laughter, Janine managed to choke out, “Yes, sir. Proper decorum. Certainly, sir.”

  Mark shook his head. “Hopeless.” Then to the waiter he said, “C’est tout. L’addition, s’ii vousplait.”

  He was laughing himself by the time they stepped out of the restaurant. He spoke quite affably. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m not ready for pastry yet. Rena, would you mind if we went over to Shakespeare first? I want to see if George has this one book I’m interested in.”

  “All right,” Rena said resignedly.

  The bookstore, Shakespeare and Company, was only a couple of blocks away. “A fascinating place!” Mark had said, and Janine found herself agreeing. The shop looked totally disorganized-books ranging from rare old first-editions to the latest paperbacks were stacked without much regard to subject matter. People sat or stood reading around the store. At the back was a stairway marked “private.” Many of the old books had lovely engravings and tooled bindings, and most were expensive. But Janine discovered two nineteenthcentury editions with engravings that she could afford. Happily she presented them to the man at the desk.

  “Nineteen francs,” he said. “My, the little lady has found a couple of bargains.”

  “They’re beautiful books,” she said.

  The man eyed her thoughtfully for a moment, then said, “Have you been upstairs yet? If not, look around. There are lots more books up there…my own personal library, not for sale.”

  Janine smiled and thanked him. Rena was fingering a paperback, and Mark was nowhere in sight. She hurried up the narrow stairs, almost tripping over a cat who was sleeping there. Someone caught her arm. With surprise, Janine realized it was Mark. “What are you doing up here?” he demanded.

  “The man at the desk suggested I might want to look around up here. Look what I bought,” Janine said, showing him the books.

  “I gather you like old books,” Mark said.

  “Yes. My mother had a few from the eighteen hundreds and I used to love reading them. Now I intend to start a collection of my own.”

  “Sometime I’ll show you mine, if you’d like,” Mark offered.

  “Oh, that reminds me. Did you find the book you wanted?” Janine asked.

  Mark answered ruefully, “Yes, but George still doesn’t want to sell it.”

  Just then, from the foot of the stairs, Rena demanded, “Are we going to be here all night?”

  “Coming!” Janine answered. “Look what I found.”

  Rena glanced at the books and shrugged. “Fairy tales? And something in French? If you wanted something to read I could have given you something more exciting than those.”

  “You don’t understand. I’m starting a collection of old books.”

  Rena stared at her sister in astonishment. “You mean you’re going to drag them back to the States, Jenny? You must be crazy!”

  Mark winked at Janine over Rena’s head. “Some of us are just eccentric, honey,” he said. “Now let’s go get the pastry I promised you.”

  With one arm around each girl, Mark firmly led them out of the shop, calling to the man at the desk, “‘Bye, George. I’ll probably be back next week.”

  The streets were crowded now and noisy. Most of the people were tourists, Janine thought, judging from all the languages she overheard. “People often come here hoping to run into old friends,” Mark explained. “It’s fun. And there are lots of movie theaters, usually showing the latest movies.”

  Mark halted in front of a shop whose window was piled high with various kinds of cookies and other sweets. “What would you like?” he asked.

  “Baklava!” Rena said immediately.

  Janine hesitated. “Beignet?” Mark suggested.

  She no
ticed the huge doughnuts for the first time and smiled and nodded. Mark disappeared into the shop and returned with the sticky, sweet pastry for Rena, the sugared beignet for Janine, and a powdered crescent for himself. “Careful, it’s still quite hot,” he warned Janine.

  It was beginning to be a little chilly, and Janine was glad for the hot, sweet beignet, which was lighter and more doughy than an American doughnut. They wandered slowly back along the sidestreets until they reached seventeen rue Bonaparte. In the courtyard Rena found her keys and handed them to Janine. “Go on up, Jenny. I’ll follow in a few minutes,” she said.

  Janine nodded and turned to Mark. “It was a nice evening. Thank you. And I’m sorry I was so touchy earlier.”

  He smiled. “I enjoyed the evening too.”

  Janine hurried up the stairs happily, barely noticing the five flights. Humming, she got into a nightgown and settled down to read one of her new books until Rena came up.

  Janine had finished the first fairy tale and was getting sleepy when Rena finally knocked at the door. “You see,” Rena said, “Mark isn’t so bad after all. Oh dear, it’s almost midnight! Listen, you go ahead to sleep, Jenny. I’ve got to work on that article some more. We can talk in the morning.”

  Janine agreed and soon fell asleep to the sound of typewriter keys clicking.

  It was already late morning when Rena and Janine left the apartment to have their petit dejeuner. “I hope you don’t mind,” Rena said, “but I’d like to stop at a quieter cafe today.”

  “Fine,” Janine said. “Where is the Marche aux Puces, by the way?”

  “North of the city at the end of one of the Metro lines. In fact, at the end of the line that stops at St. Germain des Pres.”

  “I thought the flea market was only on Sunday,” Janine said.

  Rena smiled. “A common mistake tourists make. And that’s why we’re going today. The flea market is open Saturday, Sunday, and Monday, but it’s hopelessly crowded on Sunday. Not that it will be empty today, but at least it will be a little easier to look around. The only drawback is that a few of the shops will be closed. It’s the sort of place you’d expect. You can find everything from old clothes to cheap souvenirs to antiques. Part of the market is clearly aimed at gullible tourists, but if you have some common sense it’s fun. Oh, be prepared to do a lot of walking-the place is huge!”