Once Upon a Wish (Destined for Love: Europe)

by Danyelle Ferguson

  His face flushed with heat as he anxiously typed up some notes for his meeting with Monsieur St. Germain, dreading the moment when the chocolat chaud would be delivered. Then Fleurette left the café with a demitasse and saucer, heading straight for the woman’s table. He didn’t want to watch, but he couldn’t force his eyes away. His heart pounded. This was worse than watching a horror show and knowing the person in the shower was going to be killed. This was happening right now. Not on a big screen but in his very own real-time.

  Fleurette greeted the woman, then set the cup and saucer down. The woman’s eyes widened before they darted to him. He tried to smile, but he probably looked like a moron. She bit her lip as Fleurette delivered his message before lowering her head and muttering something to the waitress, who winked at him as she made her way back into the café.

  What should he do next? Go to her table and introduce himself? Pack up and leave? He did have a meeting in twenty minutes back at his office, so his time was running short. He didn’t want to leave without at least meeting her. The indecision was killing him. He was about to close his laptop when he saw Fleurette return with another demitasse and saucer, which she also placed at the woman’s table.

  Who was the second cup for? The woman closed her journal and chewed on her bottom lip for a second before releasing it. His heart pounded, waiting to see what her next move would be. Then she made eye contact with him and motioned to the seat across from her.

  Zut alors! Jean-Paul quickly gathered his stuff, then crossed to her table. He let his bag swing off his shoulder to rest beside the chair before extending his hand.

  “Bonjour, mademoiselle. I’m Jean-Paul Chassériau.”

  His fingers enveloped her tiny hand, but she returned the handshake with a firm grip. Small but confident. He liked that.

  “My name is Delphine.”

  It was odd she didn’t give her last name, but perhaps she was just being cautious. Smart since she was meeting someone new. Her small dog yipped from under the table, and Delphine patted her knees. A scruffy ball of fur leapt up, then sat on her lap. Her dog was more black than the typical brown and white the Yorkie breed was known for, giving him a tough scrapper look despite his small size.

  “And this is Hugo, my ferocious guard dog. Say hello, Hugo.” The Yorkie tilted his head as if considering Jean-Paul, then lifted his paw to obey.

  Jean-Paul took the tiny paw in his hand and shook it. “Very nice to meet you,” he said in a deep, serious voice. When he released Hugo’s paw, the dog’s tongue darted out and licked the side of Jean-Paul’s thumb.

  “He likes you,” Delphine said, petting her dog.

  He took her comment as a good thing and sat down in his chair.

  “So, did I ruin your wish?” she asked

  Jean-Paul smiled. She liked to jump right to the point, no tiptoeing around. “No, not at all. I’ve never seen two coins collide like that.”

  “Ah, but just because you haven’t seen it, doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened. Statistically, anyway,” Delphine said, picking up the cup and saucer.

  “I’m willing to admit the probability is non-zero, but I can’t imagine it would be very high,” Jean-Paul shot back, interested to see her response to his geeky comment.

  “Tell me,” Delphine said, leaning forward, intrigue glinting in her eyes. “How many coins have you seen thrown into that fountain?”

  He folded his arms and brought up one finger to tap his chin, going for a deep-in-thought pose. “You’re right. Maybe we should perform an experiment. How about we meet here again on Thursday?”

  His pulse sped up, wondering if she’d accept his invitation.

  Beep beep.

  Dang it all. He pulled out his cell phone and grimaced when he saw the time. “I’m sorry, just one minute.” He pressed the button to answer. “Bonjour, Helena.” He paused, listening as his secretary informed him that his client had arrived early. “Oui, I am on my way now and should be there in about ten minutes. Merci.” He ended the call, sad to see his meeting with Delphine end. “My client arrived early for an appointment, so I need to leave. I’ll be here Thursday afternoon about three o’clock. Perhaps you’ll join me.” He pulled out a business card from his tote and handed it to her. “In case you’d like to contact me.”

  She took the card, tapping it against the palm of her hand. “Perhaps.”

  He slung the strap of his tote over his shoulder, ready to hurry to his office.

  “Oh, Jean-Paul,” she said, pulling him to a halt before he dashed off. “Be sure to bring extra coins for the experiment.”

  A jolt of pleasure rushed through him as he nodded. “Absolument,” he said just before parting ways.

  When he turned onto the street where his office was located, he pulled out his cell phone and blocked out the time on Thursday so his secretary wouldn’t schedule any conflicting appointments. This was one meeting he would be sure not to miss.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Thursday, September 21st

  DELPHINE RAISED HER ARMS for a deep stretch and yawned, then pushed her chair back. She needed to walk away from the manuscript for awhile before her brain turned into a shriveled tangerine. Plus, it was never a good sign when her tush went numb from sitting for so long.

  Over the last three days, she had stayed holed up in her apartment and written almost twenty-three thousand words on the new novel, which she tentatively titled Two Worlds Apart. She stank at coming up with book names. Thankfully her editor did an excellent job of correcting that weakness.

  Her word count should have made her happy. Normally it meant she was about one-third of the way through. This time, though, she had a feeling a lot of those words would go into the Deleted Scenes folder. While she had a strong vision for the characters and their conflict, she was still hung up on how they were actually going to be separated.

  If only she could talk with Maman. What Papa had hoped was mild memory loss had been diagnosed as Alzheimer’s the previous month. The nasty disease was taking hold of her mother’s memories and erasing them little bit by little bit. She was already confusing Delphine for a younger version of her Aunt Valérie. At least Maman remembered Papa. For now.

  Delphine pushed the worry and fear of the future deep down, afraid that if she lingered too long, she would turn into a puddle of mushy tears. Instead she refocused on the present. It was Thursday, and she was meeting Jean-Paul soon.

  But first, a girl needs some sustenance, she thought, putting a hand over her rumbling stomach. She prepared a late lunch of salad, baked Brie, and a homemade vinaigrette. Once the meal was cleaned up, she retreated to her bedroom to change for her date with Jean-Paul. But was it an official date? She mulled the question over as she exchanged her pajama bottoms for a pair of jeans, then pulled a fitted black shirt over her head.

  After all, they hardly knew each other. So that made today’s meeting the zeroth date, she decided. The date before the first date. They were conducting a relationship experiment, first to satisfy their curiosity about each other, and second to see if there was a spark that would lead to a first date or if it would all end with a disappointing false start.

  She retrieved her favorite heather-gray knit cardigan from a drawer, then threaded her arms through it. Of course, there was a third possible scenario. What if one of them ended up liking the other, while the other person wasn’t feeling the warm glow of affection, which led to confusion, awkwardness, and future social avoidance? And what if the person who was feeling the love continued to try to attract the person who wasn’t? That would be worse than crashing like a rocket that didn’t achieve maximum escape velocity.

  Delphine rubbed her forehead where an ache was beginning to throb. Did she really want to go on this non-date? There were so many other things she could be doing: restocking her cabinets with food, giving Hugo his weekly bath, or surfing the web for inspiration for her manuscript.

  Stop it, Delphine. We are doing this. Jean-Paul was witty and intriguing and yes,
attractive. Get your tush out of over-analytical mode and focus on your next step. She twisted open the cap of her lip gloss, then rolled the fruity concoction across her lips.

  “One final touch,” she said, draping a long silver chain around her neck. She pivoted, checking her appearance from a variety of angles. “All ready.”

  She grabbed a hand bag next to the front door. “Hugo,” she called out. “Allez!”

  A yip sounded from the living room as he jumped from the couch and came running, excited to escape the apartment for a walk. She clipped a leash to his collar, then locked her apartment door and they were off.

  Delphine followed the cobblestone road toward the plaza, greeting some of the neighborhood grandmères who sat on chairs near their front doors, gossiping and soaking up the autumn sunshine. After a few blocks, the cobblestone street opened up to the plaza. She paused, her heart fluttering at the sight of the wishing fountain in the center of everything. She checked her watch, noting that she was a few minutes early. Would Jean-Paul be here already? Hugo hopped up, putting his paws on her leg.

  “You’re the only one I’m going to admit this too, Hugo, but I feel like a bottle of Coca-Cola is going to explode in my tummy.” Hugo rubbed his snout on her leg, offering his own brand of encouragement. She gave his head one last pat before taking a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”

  She took a confident step forward, only to have the heel of her boot slip on the cobblestones. She pitched forward and stumbled before regaining her balance. Laughing to ease the embarrassment swelling inside, she quickly looked around, hoping no one noticed her less-than-graceful moves. Thankfully, they all seemed preoccupied with their own lives rather than looking her way. She continued into the plaza, eventually spotting Jean-Paul leaning casually near the café entrance.

  Ooh là là! The man looked just as wonderful as she remembered. His hair still had that sexy tousled look that made her itch to sink her fingers into it. This time his dress shirt was white with dark stripes, topped with a black v-neck sweater and paired with corduroy pants. Everything seemed tailored to fit his athletic physique just right. Why was he interested in her—the girl who was the complete opposite? Her fashion style was all about simplicity and comfort, while his was straight out of GQ.

  “Bonjour,” Jean-Paul called, waving to capture her attention.

  She returned his smile and greeting as she led Hugo toward him. “Bonjour, Jean-Paul,” she responded, reciprocating a bise kiss on the cheek.

  “And how is your ferocious guard dog today?”

  She was delighted when he knelt beside her to say hello to Hugo. The little imp playing coy, raising his paw for a handshake. Jean-Paul looked up, his blue eyes reflecting happiness and contentment. How did anyone find the strength to look away after discovering how captivating they were? She blinked, realized she missed something he said, and tried to refocus. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you.”

  He straightened and pulled a small bag of euro coins out of his pocket. “I said I came prepared. Shall we test our experiment?”

  Oh yes, the fountain. She quirked her eyebrow. “How do you propose we go about it?”

  “I thought we could start by taking up our original locations.” Jean-Paul gestured for her to lead the way toward their destination.

  They paused to distribute the coins before separating. Delphine cupped her hands together, waiting for her portion. His hand brushed against hers as he counted out ten coins. Her heart leapt, and tingles spread through her from such a simple touch. She clenched the coins in her hand, trying to quell the unexpected feelings. The science geek in her wondered if it was an anomaly or something unique to Jean-Paul.

  Thankfully, he didn’t give her time to dwell on it. They each returned to their wishing spots from the other day. “What now?” she called across the fountain.

  “I thought for the first three tosses, we could close our eyes, then count down and toss the coins as soon as we opened our eyes. No aiming.”

  She nodded her agreement and closed her eyes. Memories of that day at the fountain rushed back to her. The children at play, the giggly teenagers. Her wish . . . Was meeting Jean-Paul part of the fountain’s answer for her?

  “Un . . . deux . . . trois . . .” Jean-Paul counted, bringing her back to the present.

  She both opened her eyes and tossed. Delphine’s coin traveled closer to the center of the fountain while Jean-Paul’s went the opposite direction. They laughed, then tried two more times, each taking turns counting down before the toss, but without any successful collisions.

  “How about if we try to aim our coins at each other?” Delphine suggested. The next three tosses were much closer, as they strategized and did their best to line up their coins. One set missed each other by mere centimeters.

  “Apparently our aim is faulty. It’s a good thing we aren’t pitchers for a sporting team,” she said. Pleasure swelled inside as Jean-Paul chuckled at her remark. “What shall we attempt next?”

  Jean-Paul transferred the coins back and forth between his hands. “How about we throw them all at the same time?” At her nod, he counted down. “Ready. Un, deux, trois!”

  Two sets of four coins arced through the air toward each other. Delphine was sure that this time at least one coin would bump into another. Instead, each completed its journey with eight distinct uninterrupted plops into the water. She lifted her hands in defeat, then Jean-Paul jogged around the fountain to where she waited.

  “So, what’s your conclusion?” he asked.

  “Hmm.” She tapped one finger against her chin, considering her hypothesis and the actual outcomes. “Obviously we failed to get the results we hoped for, but why? Was it that we needed more coins? Or perhaps the position of the moon and sun has changed the gravitational pull and we need to shift our positions? My opinion is that the results are inconclusive. Et tu?”

  “I concede those are all good points. Perhaps more experiments and data are needed to achieve success. Or . . .” Jean-Paul paused, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

  “Or?” she said, prompting him to continue. His smile made the corners of his eyes crinkle, adding a touch of merriment to the sincerity she saw in the blue depths.

  “Or perhaps our coins colliding was the universe’s way of introducing us to each other.”

  Warmth suffused her cheeks and she ducked her head, breaking their eye contact. She twisted Hugo’s leash around her hand, pleased with Jean-Paul’s flirting, but her innate shyness made her worry if she said anything, she’d babble or stammer all over herself.

  “Or maybe I’m just corny,” Jean-Paul countered with a shrug of his shoulders, trying to fill the short gap of silence.

  She bit her lip, then peeked up at him. Be brave, she told herself. “I can see the merit of your conclusion. Um, not the corny conclusion. The first one.” Her blush kicked up a few notches, but the resulting smile that appeared on his face was worth it.

  “I heard the weekly flea market is today. Would you like to explore it with me?” Jean-Paul asked.

  She nodded. “I have to warn you, though, Hugo loves to show off for the vendors.”

  “Then that will make it all the more interesting,” he said, gesturing toward the direction of the market.

  Side-by-side, they left the plaza behind for the bright colors and various products of the Place de la Motte Rouge flea market. Pottery, clothing, funky old lamps, used books, and refurbished furniture were just a sampling of the items on display.

  “What brought you to La Rochelle?” Delphine asked as they sorted through some boxes of vinyl records while Hugo rested in the shade under the table.

  “Work. My family owns a marketing firm in Nantes. Dad’s very traditional—print, billboards, mailers, and the like. He has a solid clientele in Nantes, but I wanted to branch out.” He paused, pulling out a recording of Michael Jackson’s Thriller album. “Do you remember this?”

  “That music video used to give me nightmar
es.” Delphine shivered, remembering the sluggish feel of her legs barely moving while the zombies with glowing eyes got closer and closer. “Now this is more my style.” She held up another classic.

  “No,” Jean-Paul said, making a cross with his fingers to shield himself.

  “But girls just wanna have fun.” Delphine winked and slid the Cyndi Lauper record back into place. “So why La Rochelle?”

  Jean-Paul gestured to the flea market. “Look at this place. It’s Thursday afternoon, yet the flea market is filled with college students and young parents. I’d say the median age is probably twenty-eight. Pretty soon the teenagers will be joining the mix. La Rochelle has a fascinating blend of history, youthful energy, and hip technology. It’s perfect for our new branch.”

  “Allez, Hugo,” she commanded as they moved to the next booth, this one hosting an assortment of recycled sculptures made from household items like utensils and light bulbs. “Tell me more,” Delphine said, continuing the conversation.

  Jean-Paul lifted an eyebrow. “You sure? I don’t want to bore you before I can convince you to go on an official date.”

  She playfully bumped her shoulder against his, feeling as if butterflies were swarming inside from his allusion to another date. “Yes, I’m intrigued.”

  “So, I grew up working at my Dad’s office, right? And I learned a lot about solid marketing. At the same time, as a young teen, I saw social media really gain traction. With all the advancements in technology, our generation and younger aren’t turning to magazines or newspapers for information on what to buy. They’re clicking on social media ads, using the Internet to search for the best reviews, deals, or coupon codes. Just about everything they want can be accessed from the phone in their pockets. It’s all about creating websites that aren’t stagnate, but engage their target market and pull them into social media interaction. That’s the side of marketing I love.”

  She was utterly fascinated. Here was a man who knew his niche and embraced it. His enthusiasm was expressed through his words, but also showed through his hand movements as he talked and the way the tone of his voice changed. It was lighter, flowing smoothly and confidently.