A Summer in Paris (7 page)

When she finally spotted the blue sign printed in white letters with the same street name—rue des Fleurs, street of flowers—Nina’s heart leaped. She had found it. She was finally here. She began walking more quickly, scanning the numbers on the buildings she passed.

She was growing uneasy, however. Instead of the quaint houses she had expected to find, the small tumbledown cottages with flowers planted in front, the way she had been picturing all along, there were office buildings here. Modern office buildings.

Nina frowned. Perhaps there was some mistake.

But she remained optimistic as she eagerly sought out the number on each of the buildings she passed. Twenty-eight, twenty-one, fourteen ... and then she found herself standing in front of Number 7.

“Oh, no!” she cried aloud. Her heart, instead of pounding wildly with excitement, suddenly felt as if it had dropped into her stomach.

Number 7 rue des Fleurs, the address that should have been the charming home of an old man named Marcel du Lac, was a brand-new medical center.

Nina just stood in front of it for what seemed a very long time. Could this be the end
already?
she was thinking. Was this really the conclusion to a mission she had planned for ages, something she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about ever since she had first heard of the possibility of coming to Paris this summer? An overwhelming wave of disappointment floated over her as she thought, Have I dreamed about this moment for so long, only to have my little exploration end before it has even begun?

At the same time she realized that she had been more than a little foolish. Did you really expect that Marcel du Lac, the man in Grandmother’s letters, would still be sitting in the same house he was living in more than fifty years ago? she asked herself crossly. Did you think he would be standing in the doorway, waiting for Anna Wentworth’s granddaughter to come strolling around the bend?

Nina thought about turning around and going back home. After all, that would have been the sensible thing to do. To forget all about this silly plan, to admit that she had been thinking like some romantic dreamer ... But somehow, the idea of admitting total defeat was simply too much to bear. Suddenly, acting entirely on impulse, Nina found herself heading into the building.

Inside, the lobby of this spanking new clinic was clean and efficient. It was decorated entirely in black and white, giving the impression that this was a no-nonsense place.

Nina went up to the stylishly dressed receptionist sitting just inside the clinic’s front door.
“Pardonnez-moi,”
she said in her almost perfect French. “Excuse me. I am looking for someone who lived at Number seven rue des Fleurs. A man. An older man.”

“Is he a patient here?” The receptionist did not seem very interested.

“No, no. Let me explain.” Nina took a deep breath. It was harder communicating in French than she had ever expected—at least when she was trying to talk about something that was so important to her. “A long time ago, a man named Marcel du Lac lived at this address, right here where this building is....”

The receptionist stared at her blankly.

“Here. See for yourself.” Nina reached into her skirt pocket and drew out a letter. “See? Monsieur Marcel du Lac, Nombre sept rue des Fleurs.”

“Qu’est-ce que c’est?”
the woman asked, shaking her head in confusion. “What is this?”

“Many years ago, a man lived here. He ... oh, never mind.”

Suddenly, Nina’s mission seemed impossible. Her treasure hunt for the past—for her grandmother’s past—had met up with a dead end.

“Thank you.
Merci,”
she said lamely.

As she turned away and started toward the door, she was overcome with disappointment. Her dream of finding Marcel du Lac, a dream she had held on to for so long, was suddenly gone.

She had just pushed open the glass door to leave when she heard someone cry,
“Mademoiselle, attendez!
Miss, wait!”

Even though she was certain that she had simply been hearing things, Nina glanced over her shoulder. Hurrying toward her was a tall, slender woman wearing a white lab coat over an attractive deep blue dress. There was a stethoscope around her neck. The woman’s dark eyes were bright, and her cheeks were flushed.

“Oui?”
Nina said. “Yes?”

“Mademoiselle, I heard you asking about a man who used to live at this address.”

“Yes ...” Nina’s heart was pounding.

“Maybe I can help you. You see, I am a doctor on staff here. I was a member of the board of directors of this clinic when we bought the rights to this land.”

Nina’s eyes widened. “Do you remember the houses that were here before ... and the people who lived in them?”

“Yes. At least I think I do. It was seven years ago. I was on the committee that talked to the people who owned the houses here. We helped them find new places to live before their homes were replaced by this new building.” The woman’s expression softened as she added, “I know that seven years probably sounds like a very long time to you, but to me it is not such a long time.”

Nina pulled out the letters. “Monsieur du Lac? Do you remember him?”

The doctor frowned as she thought for a few seconds. Then, all of a sudden, her face lit up. “An older man? In his seventies? With very blue eyes, eyes as blue as the sea?”

Nina laughed. “Yes, that sounds like it could be him. At least, according to these letters. Tell me, do you remember where he went?”

The doctor’s smile faded. “No. I am afraid not.”

Forcing a smile, Nina said, “Thank you anyway.”

“Wait one moment.” The woman’s eyes grew narrow. “This Monsieur du Lac. Did he like flowers?”

“Yes! At least, I think so. At one time he gave a bouquet of yellow roses to a special woman, a woman he was in love with, every single day.”

“Hmm. I remember talking about yellow roses to an old man right after the land sale went through. And I seem to remember him saying he wanted to take the money he was getting from the sale of his house here in Paris and use it to buy a house in one of the small towns to the south of Paris. He said that now that he was leaving the house he had lived in his whole life, the very first thing he was going to do was plant a flower garden.”

“A small town ... in the south?” Nina’s mind was clicking away. “Could you please tell me the names of some of those towns?”

“Yes, of course.” The doctor spoke slowly, giving Nina a chance to jot the names down on the pad of paper she had in her purse. “You might try looking him up in the telephone books for those towns.”

“Telephone books. That’s a wonderful idea!”

It was all Nina could do not to lean over and give the doctor a hug.

“I guess I should try using this thing,” Kristy said to Alain, opening up her tote bag and taking out the camera her parents had sent her. “I’ve read the manual cover to cover, but this is the first time I’ve actually brought it out of the house. The truth of the matter is that I’m a little bit afraid of it.”

“Ah, this camera has teeth?” Alain joked.

Kristy laughed. And it wasn’t only because of Alain’s sense of humor. She was excited about being on her first real date with him. After an entire week of meeting her for lunch right after her morning’s classes, he had invited her to a movie on this cool Friday evening. They had met at the Arc de Triomphe, the tremendous arch built by Napoleon at the beginning of the nineteenth century in honor of his victorious army.

“Well, then, if you’re ready to give that camera a try, why don’t you take my picture?” Alain offered.

He struck a few amusing poses as Kristy clicked away. It was fun, she discovered, trying different settings, attempting different effects. He was a willing model, but she quickly grew bored.

“I think I’ll take some artsy shots,” she decided.

“Something like that bench over there. Or maybe this sewer cover.”

Alain rolled his eyes upward. “Oh, no. Already the Parisian artistic spirit is getting to you.”

After she had used up an entire roll of film, the two of them decided to go off in search of a movie. The Arc, located in the middle of La Place de l’Etoile, was at the edge of the Champs-Elysees, one of the city’s best-known boulevards. While it had at one time been a street lined with elegant shops, it was now little more than a crowded tourist sight.

Aside from the shops and cafes that catered to the city’s visitors, there were many movie theaters on the strip. Kristy was disappointed to see that most of them were featuring American movies, either dubbed into French or accompanied by French subtitles. As she and Alain strolled down the Champs-Elysees, enjoying the view of all the people passing by, they read the marquees of the theaters.

“Your choice,” Alain said. “We have Tom Cruise, Jennifer Lawrence—”

Kristy shook her head. “No, Alain. I’m in France. I want to see something French. Let’s find a movie I couldn’t see at home in the States.”

“I don’t know if you would enjoy something like that.”

“Sure I would. Besides, I want to learn everything I can about French culture. And what better way is there than actually experiencing it firsthand?”

They continued their wanderings until they stumbled across a much smaller theater, tucked away on a side street. Kristy probably wouldn’t even have noticed it if she hadn’t been looking so hard, determined to find exactly what she was looking for.

“There!” she announced triumphantly.
“Night of a Thousand Moons.
Let’s see that.”

She went over to the theater and studied the movie posters displayed out front. She had never heard of any of the actors in the movie. The star, from what she could tell, was a beautiful woman with thick black hair named Charlotte LePage. And according to the poster, she was France’s number-one actress.

“This is the movie I want to see,” she told Alain, who had come up behind her.

“But Kristy,” Alain protested. “I don’t think you will like this movie very much. It’s so ... so French.”

“That’s the whole idea!”

“But I read some of the reviews, and it’s supposed to be terrible.”

“I don’t care.” Kristy shrugged. “I want to see it anyway.”

“But this theater is always so ... so
hot
inside.”

Kristy was growing impatient. “Alain,” she said, “you told me I should choose any movie I wanted to see, and this is the one I am choosing. Now are you coming along, or should I go by myself?”

“You American girls,” he muttered, grinning despite himself. “Once you make up your minds about something, there is no holding you back.”

“I don’t understand,” she said a few minutes later as she and Alain sat inside the theater, waiting for the film to begin. “If this movie got such bad reviews, why is the theater so crowded? We’re lucky we even got seats!”

“Oh, well, it is Friday night. All the movies are crowded on the weekend.”

“And it’s interesting that even though it is so crowded, this theater isn’t hot at all. In fact, I’m quite comfortable.”

Alain just shrugged. “Maybe they fixed their cooling system.” As if he were trying to change the subject, he commented, “I suppose you go to the movies all the time.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

Alain was grinning. “Kristy! You
are
a famous movie star, don’t forget!”

“Oh, right. Uh, sure. I go all the time.”

“How about opening nights? Are they exciting? Tell me what they’re like!”

“Oh, well ... Really, Alain, no words can describe them.... Gee, it is getting a little warm in here, after all.”

“What kind of movies do you make? Have I ever seen any of them, do you think?”

“Oh, probably not,” Kristy replied with a wave of her hand. “I don’t think any of them have ever been released in Europe. It, uh, has something to do with licensing. I signed a contract once that made it impossible for ... Oh, look. The movie is starting.”

Kristy was relieved that the lights were finally going out. Talking about her stardom—her
made-up
stardom—made her uncomfortable. She still wasn’t sure if she had made a mistake in making up all those stories in the first place, especially since she was becoming so fond of Alain.

But this was no time for worrying about that. She was quickly drawn into the movie. It had a clever, involving plot, and Kristy’s French was good enough for her to follow it—and even to understand some of the more humorous lines.

But what struck her most was its mesmerizing star. Charlotte LePage was a beautiful woman and a wonderful actress. It was easy for Kristy to understand how she had become the country’s most popular movie actress. By the end of the film, Kristy was ready to sign up for her fan club herself.

“What a fantastic movie!” she cried as she and Alain walked out of the theater.

“I guess the critics don’t always know what they’re talking about,” Alain said with a rueful smile.

“That Charlotte LePage is wonderful. I’d love to find out more about her.”

“Really? Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I was just really struck by her talent and her beauty.” She eyed him curiously. “Why, don’t you like her?”

Alain laughed. “Kristy, all of France loves Charlotte LePage. Why should I be any different?

“Now enough about movies,” he said firmly. “How about something more real? Something like my stomach. I’m hungry, and I happen to know a place that makes the most wonderful chocolate éclairs in Paris.”

Kristy was only too happy to say yes.

* * * *

“Gee, Kristy. I’m really thrilled for you,” Jennifer said dryly. “It sounds like you’ve met the man of your dreams.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Kristy replied uneasily. She could tell from her friend’s tone of voice that she had made a mistake in calling her to report on her date with Alain.

You should have known how she was going to react, Kristy told herself. She made a vow that, from then on, she would be careful about what she told her friend.

Jennifer, meanwhile, was in a terrible mood when she hung up the phone.

Great, just great, she was thinking. Everybody is having the time of their lives except me. She started to retreat to her bedroom, armed with the latest book she had bought, a novel written in English. Well, I’ve managed to get through the first week, anyway. Only seven left to go.