Page 141 of Ten Years and Then…
13, Rue des Beaux Arts
Check in 28 December, check out 2 January
Closest Metro—Pont Neuf (Line #7)
Rachel wanted to take her to Paris? Why?
It was a huge gift, and horribly expensive. Rachel had always been generous to her, but this was on a whole other level. “I don’t understand, Rachel.”
Rachel gave her a sad smile. “It’s been almost two years since that cruise, Nora. You’re stuck. I mean, at work you’re thriving, not that I ever expected any less. But you’re still stuck back there with Daniel, and I’m not going to let you wallow forever.” Nora started to protest, but Rachel wasn’t hearing it. “I know you still have the Mont Blanc pen. And I’ll bet everything I own that the sad old teddy bear he gave you in college is still in your bed right now. It’s going to be a whole new century, and what better place for a fresh start than Paris?”
Nora started to point out that the new century—the new millennium—wouldn’t actually start until January 1st, 2001, but that was avoiding the subject. And Rachel was right. She hadn’t even been on a single date since the cruise. And she hadn’t called, or written or emailed Daniel. Something did have to change.
“I guess I don’t have a choice,” she said, pasting the best smile she could manage on her face.
“That’s the spirit! Just be sure you’re packed and ready to go on the 27th.”
She wasn’t sure if even the magic of Paris would be enough to change things for her. But she’d never know if she didn’t try, right?
Chapter 46
Paris, Part 1—Charlotte, NC/Boston, MA/Paris, France
Daniel, December 27
“Good Lord, Bee,” he muttered to himself. “What do you have in there? We’re only going for six days, not moving to Paris permanently.” Daniel was in Bianca’s driveway waiting for her to make one last bathroom visit before the taxi arrived. Beside him were her two full-sized suitcases, garment bag, carry-on bag and absurdly big purse. Next to all that, his one carry-on suitcase looked sad and lonely.
Well, if that wasn’t symbolic, he didn’t know what was.
She emerged from the house wearing—he had to blink and look again to believe it—the fur coat she’d gotten for her eighteenth birthday. Under that was a low-cut red dress, and she had on ridiculously high heels, almost enough to bring her eye-to-eye with him.
“Bee, you realize we’re going to have to walk probably two miles to get to our gate once we get to the airport, right? You’re going to break your ankle.”
She threw her scarf—also red, naturally—around her neck dramatically. “The way you start something is the way it’ll go. If we’re going to the fashion capital of the world, I’m going to take the first steps looking like a million bucks.” She laughed. “Look in the top of my carry-on. I’ll put the sneakers on once we get inside the airport.”
He should have known; that was Bianca in a nutshell; both showy and practical at the same time. Just like…her.
Nora wasn’t going to be in Paris. This trip was all about spending time with Bee, and figuring out how to restart his personal life.
“Good idea, Bee.” He heard a car turning the corner, three houses down from Bee’s property. It was their taxi. “And here he comes. You ready?”
“If you are, Danny.”
She walked over—tottered, really, on the uneven gravel of her driveway—and hugged him. “As ready as I’ll ever be. And if I haven’t said it enough, thank you for this.”
She kissed his forehead; it was really weird not having to bend down for her to do that. “I love you, Danny. You never need to thank me. I just hope it’s going to be everything you could wish for.”
So did he.
Nora, around the same time
The last time—the only time—Nora had been on an international flight was sophomore year of high school.
Mom had literally pulled her out of class, right in the middle of frog dissection day in Biology. “I have to go to Rome, it’s an emergency with the gallery. You’re coming with me,” she’d said. She’d given Nora fifteen minutes to pack a bag and then it was off to the airport. Mom sat in first class, Nora back in coach; there had been only one seat left in first and, “I need to mentally prepare for this negotiation, I can’t possibly do that back in steerage.”
This time, Nora would be in first class; she hadn’t looked closely at the ticket when Rachel handed it to her two months ago but she finally read all the details this morning while she was waiting for the taxi.
She still had an hour before boarding started; she was enjoying a pre-flight glass of champagne in the International Lounge. She glanced at a copy of Le Monde, but her barely-remembered three years of high school French were not much help. She recognized the words—a lot of them, anyway—but her recall of French grammar was hopeless.
