by Eliza Watson
I set my phone’s alarm for 1:00 p.m., 6:00 a.m. back home, to call Mom and apologize.
This put a damper on my excitement about today’s city tour, ending at the Eiffel Tower. I wasn’t overly thrilled about the stops at Napoleon’s tomb and the Panthéon—a burial tomb for famous people like Victor Hugo, the author of Les Misérables.
If Declan became distraught over more burial sites, this time I’d be prepared to discuss Shauna. If talking about her death made him uncomfortable, he could talk about her life. He just needed to talk about her, period.
I zipped through the shower. Towel wrapped around me, I blow-dried my hair then flat-ironed it. I applied my makeup before putting on the orange T-shirt, so I didn’t have to stare at my sickly looking skin in the mirror. After getting dressed, I packed casual clothes in my computer case, instead of my computer, not needing it on the tour. I wouldn’t have to waste time running back to the hotel to change before heading out to explore the city tonight.
At breakfast, Madame Laurent greeted me with a bright smile and a warm air-kiss to each of my cheeks.
My first French kiss.
Well, technically not my first French kiss, but my first time experiencing the French custom of air-kissing the cheeks. She gestured to Esmé wagging her tail wildly and rattled off something in French. I caught Esmé, merci, and another merci. She was thanking me for dog sitting. I assured her it’d been nice having the company. She teared up, emotional at the thought of losing her dog. Esmé was undoubtedly a better companion and more reliable than her son. More reliable than me.
The neglectful daughter who’d forgotten her parents’ anniversary.
* * *
An hour later, Heather, Declan, and I stood outside the Hôtel Sophie loading the bus. A gorgeous day for touring Paris—a clear sunny sky, no breeze, and already a pleasant fifty degrees.
Declan scanned his highlighted attendee list. “We’re just missing Henry’s family.”
“They’re always fashionably late,” Heather said. “I’ll give them another…” She trailed off, smiling brightly at Big Henry walking out the front door, alone.
“Sorry I’m late. Brooke and Little Henry won’t be joining us. He’s not feeling well.”
My gaze narrowed in concern. “Is he okay?”
“Does he need a doctor?” Heather asked.
Big Henry shook his head. “Brooke’s sure it’s something he ate last night. Too many rich sauces.”
Maybe it was all the stinking chocolate he ate. I had to admit—it would be nice to have a peaceful day without getting kicked out of anywhere, but hopefully, Henry was okay.
“It’s too bad,” Big Henry said. “Brooke was really looking forward to the tour. It’s our first time to Paris.”
“I could have Caity stay with him if you think it’s just something he ate. I don’t want her catching anything.” Heather glanced over at me. “Although I suppose you might have caught it anyway, since you’ve had close contact with him.”
What the hell was I going to do quarantined to a hotel room with Henry all day? What if I did contract something? My dad’s health insurance sucked. And I was never going to gain valid work experience if all I did was babysit. Most importantly, what if Declan had a meltdown over Shauna?
I had to be there for him!
“I’d hate to impose again.” Yet Big Henry’s delighted expression said he’d get over it. “You’re sure it’s okay?”
“Absolutely.” Heather gave him a reassuring smile.
So much for my gorgeous, sunny day.
“But I’m going to need Caity’s help tomorrow, so I’ll have the concierge line up a sitter for you if needed.”
He nodded. “I completely understand. Brooke will want to meet potential sitters first, so if you could set up interviews for early tonight, that’d be perfect.” He looked over at me, and I forced a smile rather than throwing a complete fit. “I’ll let Brooke know you’re on your way up. I really appreciate this. Thanks again.” He walked away, calling his wife.
Heather turned to me, her smile vanishing. “Sorry,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’m going to flip my shit if we don’t keep the account after all of this. And now I can’t stay here to work on the bid. Call Louise or the concierge if you end up having to take Henry to the doctor.”
What happened to the diagnosis of him having OD’d on rich sauces? I couldn’t be responsible for getting Henry proper medical attention. What if nobody at the hospital spoke English? Who’d be paying his medical bill? There wasn’t room on my credit card if I became ill.
“And please ask the concierge to line up some sitters to interview tonight.”
I nodded vigorously. “I’m all over that.”
“Thanks for taking one for the team.”
What was with this “team” thing? I didn’t see anyone else on the “team” taking one. Not to mention, I’d taken way more than one!
“Sir Nigel puked in my shoe, but it didn’t require an emergency department run,” Declan said. “However, the yoke was lucky I didn’t send him there. I wasn’t aware of it until I felt something squishy and my shoe smelled a bit off. I had to wear white runners with my black suit the rest of the trip because I had no time to shop.”
I hoped Declan maintained a sense of humor through the tour, even if Al made some crude death joke. I couldn’t imagine that Napoleon’s tomb would bring up memories of Shauna. Still, I couldn’t get him to open up and express his feelings if I wasn’t around.
“If you want, you can stay with Henry, and I’ll go on the tour,” I said jokingly, giving him an out if he wanted one.
He laughed, shrugging it off with an appreciative smile. “Don’t think Heather would approve since you seem to be their preferred child minder.”
“Lucky me.”
I stormed inside and stalked across the lobby. On the elevator ride up, I took several deep breaths, not wanting to blow up in Brooke’s face. I exited the elevator and marched down the hall. I rapped on their guest room door, probably causing permanent knuckle damage. I plastered on a perky smile, then toned it down, deciding not to look overly happy, with Henry not feeling well.
Brooke answered the door with a bright smile, not a hair out of place, dressed in a navy pantsuit and heels, ready to hit the city. She’d known damn well she wouldn’t be tending to her sick kid.
I stepped inside their suite—twenty times larger than my current guest room—feeling like I’d entered the queen’s chamber at Versailles. I should tactfully warn this woman right now that there was no way I was missing the Versailles tour in two days. I didn’t care if I was the one sick—I was visiting my second castle.
Henry lay on the red-and-gold striped couch, snuggled beneath a champagne-colored duvet.
Brooke gave her son a fleeting kiss on the forehead. “Now be good for Caity.” She handed me a room keycard. “In case you need to run out. Just don’t leave him alone for more than a few minutes. And don’t give him any soda or chocolate.”
No balloons. No soda. No chocolate. A lot of things to avoid, and I was still afraid to ask why about the balloons.
“Thank you so much for doing this.” She grabbed her purse and whisked out the door as fast as her Fendi heels would carry her.
Henry peered over the top of the duvet, with heavy eyelids and a weary expression. My sour mood faded slightly. Yet it should be his mother looking after him. I’d better keep my distance just in case it was something more serious than rich sauces. I needed to run to the gift shop for antibacterial wipes, then book a sitter with my buddy Marcel. After Henry’s disappearing act the other night, I was afraid to leave him alone. Yet he didn’t look like he had enough strength to stagger to the bathroom.
“I have to run to the lobby. I’ll be right back.”
He nodded faintly, managing a weak smile, resting his head on a fluffy pillow.
I went to the gift shop and paid more for disinfectant wipes than I had for my shamrock undies at the hotel in Dublin
. At least the undies had doubled as a souvenir. I waited impatiently while Marcel gave an elderly couple detailed directions to Cartier. The man handed Marcel several coins, and the couple strolled off to drop beaucoup bucks on fancy jewelry. I stepped up to the desk. The concierge returned my bright smile with a faint, obligatory one. I didn’t bother with French, not in the mood for him to expel impatient puffs of air between his lips while I murdered his language.
“I need to arrange a sitter for Henry and Brooke Payton for tomorrow.”
He arched an inquisitive brow. “You will be leaving us so soon?”
“I…am not…the nanny.” I eased the words out, trying to remain calm.
“But of course, mademoiselle, you are not the nanny.” Doubt flickered in his hazel eyes. “It would be my pleasure to recommend one.”
“They prefer to interview potential candidates tonight.”
He looked seriously offended, as if his recommendation should suffice. “This is quite short notice. I will see what I can do.” He gazed expectantly at me.
He wanted a tip, like that man before me had given him. I hadn’t tipped him for recommending La Grande Illusion or the Halloween party. However, he’d suggested the party. Maybe that had gotten us off to a bad start. Maybe he wouldn’t try too hard to secure sitter interviews without a tip. No way was I missing Versailles. I placed a five-euro bill on the counter. He appeared mildly pleased, but I couldn’t fork over any more money, certain I’d need it for future tips. I could likely expense it, but little good that did me now.
Antoine’s voice carried over from the front desk, where he was flirting with a gorgeous woman.
I gave Marcel an apologetic look. “Sorry. Antoine hasn’t refunded an error on my credit card, so I’m short on money.”
Marcel’s gaze narrowed on Antoine, the corners of his mouth curling down with contempt. Antoine was no longer messing with merely my finances, but also Marcel’s.
The concierge peered back over at me, and his look of disdain faded. “They will need to pay for the interviews.”
“That’s fine.” Hopefully.
I returned to Henry’s room. The duvet lay in a pile at the end of the couch. No Henry.
I was about to start searching when the little boy raced out of his bedroom dressed in an Avengers T-shirt, jeans, and tennies. “I’m all better!”
“Get back on that couch,” I commanded.
“I’m not really sick. I was just pretending so we didn’t have to go see more stupid graves.”
“They’re also going to the Eiffel Tower. The most famous attraction in the world. Everybody comes here to see it.”
“I wanna go to Disney. My friend Tyler went there.”
Cinderella’s Castle at Disney World was the only castle I’d visited besides Malahide in Ireland. No way was I coming to France and seeing another Cinderella’s Castle.
I called Declan and explained the situation. “Should we take a taxi to meet up with you guys?”
“Let me ask Heather.” A few moments later, he returned. “She says stay there. If he doesn’t want to go on the tour, he’ll be annoying, and nobody will enjoy it. Sorry.”
I hung up, glaring at Henry. “That was very naughty, lying to your mom and dad. You know I’m going to have to tell them.”
Henry slapped fists on his hips, his determined gaze narrowing. “And I’ll tell them you were mean to me so my dad will fire you.”
“Your dad doesn’t have the authority to fire me, especially not because you told him to. And you’re the one who lied, not me.” His dad did have some pull over whether or not Heather’s company kept the account. Argh.
Henry dropped down on the couch in defeat. “I didn’t wanna go see stupid graves. Everything is always about my dad’s work. The only reason we’re here is because all he does is work. He’d rather be with dead people than me.”
My shoulders relaxed, and I sat next to him on the couch. “That’s not true.”
He nodded. “Ah-hunh. And they only brought me cuz Mindy quit cuz my mom was mean to her. They don’t want me here. Mindy played video games, took me to the zoo, went to all my soccer games. My mom went to one. My dad hasn’t been to any.” Henry’s bottom lip quivered, and a tear slipped down his cheek. “My mom is going to be mad I told you this.”
I wrapped my arms around his little frame, drawing him against me. Experiencing my first maternal instinct ever, I placed a comforting kiss on the top of his head. “I won’t say anything. I’m glad you told me this. Talking about things that make you sad helps you feel better.”
There I was again, a total hypocrite. I had no problem handing out Martha’s advice—I just couldn’t seem to take it. However, I had told Declan Andy’s name and that he was an ass.
Henry nodded, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “I do feel better.”
Maybe I should be glad Mom was overbearing. She’d never missed one of my Christmas pageants or dance recitals. She’d supported me going to college when I’d had no clue on a major, finally deciding on sociology after switching majors four times. Why couldn’t she support me in this job?
I vowed to make this Henry’s most memorable day in Paris, without suffering through Disneyland with thousands of cranky parents and crying kids, or vice versa.
“I have a surprise. I’ll be right back.”
I called Louise and asked her to authorize the front desk to issue me a key for Declan’s room so I could retrieve some important meeting materials. Luckily, Antoine wasn’t there, and a woman made me a key. I ran up to Declan’s room, pretty sure he wouldn’t mind that I’d accessed his room without his approval. I stuck the key in the slot, and my heart raced. Seriously? It wasn’t like Declan was waiting for me in bed or I was there to snoop through his things.
Even though I’d love another whiff of his shampoo…
The pilot’s costume was draped over the back of a gold-colored upholstered chair. I sucked in a deep breath, shoving aside visions of Declan standing there with his shirt off…
I am Declan’s Martha.
I am Declan’s Martha.
I am…
I grabbed the Harry Potter costume and fled to Henry’s room.
I held up the costume. “Since you didn’t get to go to the party last night, you can dress up today.”
His gaze narrowed on the outfit, and then his face lit up. “Harry Potter!” He threw on the long black robe lined in red. “My dad told me Harry is also a name for Henry.”
I hadn’t thought of that.
He snagged the yellow-and-red striped tie with an embroidered Gryffindor house emblem. “Cool. I have a white shirt.” He ran into his room and came back wearing a wrinkled white collared shirt. He handed me the tie. “I don’t know how to do this.”
Fortunately, it was a clip-on. I attached it to his shirt collar. He slipped the round glasses on and waved the wand. His eyes widened. “We should go to the magician’s restaurant. I could do some tricks.”
“They aren’t open for lunch.”
I had no clue if they were or not, but I wasn’t returning to someplace I’d nearly been kicked out of. Except possibly the Musée d’Orsay, where I had been kicked out of.
The Eiffel Tower wasn’t an option. I didn’t want Henry taking a swan dive off the top, attempting to fly like Harry Potter. We also might run into his parents, and they’d realize he’d been lying about being sick. I’d have to figure out how to explain Henry’s miraculous recovery. I wanted to tell his parents the truth, that he felt neglected and unloved, but I’d given him my word I wouldn’t. It would also be an awkward conversation to have with a client, and likely an inappropriate one, according to Heather.
Rachel had mentioned her friend Samantha’s boyfriend was a puppeteer. They were out of town, but Marcel would surely have a show schedule. We went down to see the concierge, who informed us there was a performance in an hour at the Luxembourg Gardens, a twenty- to twenty-five-minute walk away. I ignored his questioning glance that said, Not
the nanny, huh?
Chapter Fourteen
Almost a half hour later, we entered the Luxembourg Gardens. I was proud that I hadn’t taken one wrong turn and was finding my way around Paris on my own, despite being directionally challenged. A wide dirt path led to the Luxembourg Palace and a huge fountain where kids were sailing colorful boats with the assistance of a stick and a faint breeze. People were lounging on green metal chairs, their feet propped up on the fountain’s stone perimeter. I snapped a pic of the palace, wondering if they offered tours.
“I wanna sail a boat,” Henry said.
“We don’t have time.”
“But I like boats.”
“Then why did you want a hamburger over a boat cruise?”
Henry gave his eyes an exaggerated roll. “Because my dad was getting a stupid award, which means he’s just going to work more.”
If I’d known his reasoning the other night, it would have made me a bit more sympathetic and dinner more bearable.
“We’re going to a puppet show.”
Henry’s face scrunched up. “What’s that?”
I wasn’t sure what to expect, never having been to a puppet show either. Another first for my travel diary, which I hadn’t written in since ripping out the page about Fanette and Declan’s kiss.
French accordion music carried across the gardens. Marcel had said to follow the music to the puppet show. The lively tune and children’s playful laughs came from behind a row of tall, manicured hedges. We entered the outdoor theater through an ivy-wrapped trellis. Dozens of kids sat on the benches directly in front of a small green shed with a red velvet curtain and brightly painted whimsical designs on the bottom panels. Parents sat on the back benches. The kids’ chattering faded to hushed whispers upon spotting Henry in his Harry Potter costume. Their eyes filled with envy, the way people had looked at me in the flight attendant costume. Parents eyed my orange T-shirt with apprehension, probably wondering if I was a walking billboard soliciting their funeral business.
If I’d taken time to change into my other outfit at the hotel, we’d have missed the beginning of the show.