Page 27 of It Happened In Paris

PAJAMAS

VIVIAN

Parisand I returned from getting her chest Xray, and I grinned upon seeing a man standing at the window, absorbed in his phone. At first glance from behind, I assumed it was Richard, but he wasn’t.

“Look who it is.” I gently nudged her forward.

“Uncle Keaton!” She shouted with delight.

“There’s my girl.” Striding over in two large steps, he scooped her up into his arms. Paris giggled and hugged him tightly. “I brought you something from Denver. A belated Christmas present.”

I watched with affection as he carefully set her on her bed, then retrieved a round, neatly wrapped gift from his bag—a package nearly as big as his hand.

Where was Richard? I’d love to introduce these two. Keaton always had a flare for business, so they should have things in common to talk about. They’d get along well.

“What is it?” Paris eagerly tore away a corner of the red wrapping paper.

“Judging by your room, I’m pretty sure you’re going to like it,” he declared, nodding toward the maps on her wall.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I said, joining his side. We shared a brief hug while Paris continued unwrapping her gift.

She gasped in amazement. “So cool!”

Keaton demonstrated. “It’s a snow globe. You shake it gently like this and snow falls on the scene. Here’s the North Pole. See? And this is a train passing through the mountains arriving with kids to visit Santa. Can you spot him there somewhere?”

She peered inside the clear dome and remarked, “Richard is going to take me to the North Pole on a big adventure.”

“Hm. Is he now?” He mused as he cocked an eyebrow at me, lowering his voice. “I met Richard when I arrived. Looks like we have some catching up to do, Viv.”

“Yes, I suppose we do,” I whispered back.

“Nice pajamas, by the way. Wasn’t Richard wearing the same ones?” Keaton teased, his observant eyes scanning my outfit and perhaps drawing conclusions.

“Richard is just a friend,” I responded with a casual shrug, unaware that the man had slipped behind me and caught my words.

I gasped when I finally realized he was there. Gone were his pajamas, replaced by faded jeans, a gray Columbia sweatshirt, and ball cap on backwards. The rich man was so fine, dressed down, he took my breath away, and I kicked myself for sorting him into the friend column. But wewerefriends, weren’t we? I couldn’t think of any other way to describe the current situation between us.

“Come see what I have. It’s the North Pole. Is this where you’re taking me?” Paris boasted, holding up the enormous snow globe.

“Yeah? That’s something else.” His eyes avoided mine, and his smile faded for a moment—as if my comment had struck a nerve.

“How fast does a train go?” She asked him.

“That depends on the train. There’s one in France called theTrain à Grande Vitesseand it can go almost two hundred miles per hour,” he explained in the usual patient way in which he connected with my daughter. Always calm and cool, so good to her.

“Can we go on the fast train?” The excitement in her eyes was impossible to ignore.

Richard’s smile flatlined. “Sure, sweetheart. But first, get better, okay?” His tone seemed less confident about their grand adventure now, not that I expected him to actually follow through, but Paris certainly did. It broke my heart.

I could see now this was a problem. While their interactions kept her happy and entertained, there was an expectation that had evolved, that he’d be in our lives for some time to come. That this trip would actually happen. What if he wasn’t around much longer and the trip never materialized?

He continued answering her follow-up questions about train travel until I stepped in and smiled at him. “How was your test?”

“All good. I’ll bet you’re happy to see your brother again?”

“Yes, I am. Although we’ve had little time to catch up yet.” I elbowed Keaton. “I want to hear all about your time in Denver. Did the paparazzi follow you around? Did women swoon and fall at your feet?”

“Knock it off,” he elbowed back. “You know the celebrity stuff gets old real fast.”

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