Paris Summer (14 page)

Calmer, Janine opened her purse and pulled out
Rena’s letter. It had arrived that morning and seemed a
bit strange. For one thing, there was no return address
and the letter was undated. Both omissions were
unusual for Rena.

Hi Sis!

How is Paris? How about Sandy? Are you
engaged yet? Mom says to tell you not to limit
yourself to just him. What does she know? (Picked
up her letter at American Express in Geneva just
before I left. I think she’s guessed about Mark.
Can’t tell if she’s pleased or not.)

Lausanne is lovely. Will be delayed getting back
to Paris. If you leave Paris before I get there,
please leave the keys with the concierge. She’s a
dear.

A bientot,
Rena

How did Mom know about Sandy? Janine wondered. And why was Rena in Lausanne? The article for
Mademoiselle was supposed to be all about Geneva.
And why wasn’t the letter postmarked even from Lausanne? Above all, why had it taken Rena so long to
write? Unlike Janine, she was usually a good
correspondent. Janine had asked Mark a week before
if he had heard from Rena. He had said yes with such
bad grace that Janine hadn’t dared ask to see the letter.
Well, maybe she just felt she needed a vacation.

Traveling. That was something Janine should think
about doing. And soon if she wanted to have time to
visit many other countries before it was time to go back
to New York. But it was hard to tear herself away from
Paris. With a sigh, Janine tucked the letter back into
her purse and gathered up her things. The rain had
stopped and she still had some marketing to do. She
was unaware of the attractive picture she made as she
walked down the street. Her blonde hair bounced
around her shoulders and her long shapely legs moved
gracefully below the summery print dress that drew
attention to her curves. Instead, she was thinking about
Sandy and how attentive he had been the last few
weeks. He was always ready to go somewhere with her
if she asked. And once he had realized how strongly she
felt, Sandy let Janine choose less expensive restaurants. Alan said that Sandy even was visiting museums on his own because he wanted to share her interests. From time to time, he hinted he was hoping to
marry her, but he was never pushy about it.

Sandy was waiting at the foot of the stairs when
Janine got home. He took the groceries from her as he
kissed her. “Hi, kitten. How was the math?”

Janine made a face. “Fine. Until I got in a fight with
Mark about it.”

Sandy shook his head as he started up the stairs.
“You take this stuff too seriously. How come you were
so late?”

Janine waited until she had unlocked the door to
answer. “I walked back to cool off,” she said. “Then I
stopped for some tea and forgot the time because I was
thinking about Rena. I got a letter from her and
something seems odd about it.”

“Let me read it,” Sandy suggested as he hung up
Janine’s raincoat. “While I’m reading it you can make
yourself some more tea. You look like you really need
it.

She agreed, though somewhat reluctantly, and
handed him the letter. A few minutes later, Sandy
regarded her carefully over the top of his teacup. “I
think you’re worrying about nothing, kitten. Sounds
like Rena is having a ball and begrudges the time to
write a letter.”

“Why no return address?” Janine demanded.

“Probably doesn’t want her jealous boy friend
coming out and spoiling her fun.” Sandy shrugged.

“Sandy.” Janine gasped, setting down her cup.
“They’re engaged!”

“That’s what I mean. Rena probably wants a chance
to kick up her heels before she settles down with Mark.
He is a bit stuffy, you know. It’s all perfectly natural.”

Janine sat silently staring at her tea. Then she slowly
nodded. “It’s possible,” she conceded. Then she smiled.
“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

Sandy grinned. “Why else do you think I’m here?”

Janine took the empty teacups to the kitchen. Why
does he always make me feel as though he’s conferring a favor on me by letting me fix dinner for him? Janine
thought irritably.

It was after eleven P.M.Janine had long since
forgotten her irritation. She sat on the daybed with a
pillow between her back and the wall. Sandy was
sprawled out, his head in her lap. She was gently
stroking his hair. Her eyes were closed and in the
silence Janine felt completely at ease. Sandy’s voice
abruptly pulled her back into the present. “Do you
know,” he said, “you’ve never told me you love me.”

Janine flushed and tried to answer but her voice
stammered, “I-I, you know I’m f-fond of you-”

Sandy sighed. “I know. But you’re not sure you love
me, right? And you’re worried about it. Especially
because I’ve told you I love you. The trouble is, Jenny,
you just don’t understand love. You think that if you
fell in love bells and whistles would go off. Well, it’s not
like that. I’ve been in love several times before and I
know. There are no bells and whistles. You just start
feeling close to the person and wanting to be with them.
And the person begins to matter an awful lot to you.
That’s what love is. If you wait for bells and whistles
you’ll never be happy. Love and marriage are what you
make them.”

Janine was silent, feeling confused and lonely. Was
it true? Had she been living in a dream world, expecting
bells and whistles that would never, could never, come?

Sandy watched Janine closely and when he saw her
about to cry he pulled her head down to his and kissed
her gently. “Hush,” Sandy said as he moved his hand
from her neck to her cheek. “Don’t rush it. I can wait. I
love you.”

“Oh, Sandy, I feel so…so…” Janine whispered.

“Don’t, Jenny,” Sandy said, distressed. Suddenly he
grinned. “You don’t want Ralph to see you crying!”

Janine choked and started laughing in spite of
herself

“That’s better,” Sandy said. “You know what you
need?” He sat up. “A beignet.”

“A beignet?” Janine asked skeptically. “Isn’t it a
little late for beignets?”

Sandy glanced at his watch. “Nope. It’s only eleventhirty. If we hurry we can make it to St. Michel before
the pastry shops close. C’mon, let’s go.”

Janine laughed. “All right. Is it raining?”

Sandy looked out. “No, it’s clear out now. Just grab
a sweater.”

A few minutes later they were in the street with
Sandy urging Janine to hurry. Gasping slightly, they
reached St. Michel just in time. They sat on a doorstep
to eat the hot, sticky, sweet beignets. The night was
cool but pleasant, and Janine had to admit that the
prescription had worked. She felt herself wishing the
evening could go on forever.

They walked back to rue Bonaparte slowly as
though neither wanted the happy mood to end. But
finally they were there. “I’ll say good night here,
Jenny,” Sandy said quietly. “You look like you need
some sleep.”

She nodded. “I am pretty tired,” she confessed.

Sandy kissed her. Then, still holding her, he said,
“Jenny, please think about what I said. About love, I
mean. I want you to be happy.”

Without quite knowing why, Janine pulled herself
free from Sandy and fled up the stairs. After a moment, Sandy shrugged. Jenny was a sensible girl. She would
come around. Whistling softly, Sandy turned and
headed for Alan’s apartment. Good old Alan. Wonder
if he feels like a game of poker?

Janine was up but still feeling rather sleepy when the
phone rang the next morning. “Allo?” she said.

“Janine? C’est moi, Helene” the voice on the phone
said cheerfully. “Comment ca va?”

“Ca va bien, “Janine replied. “Et vows?I mean toi?”

Helene laughed and switched to English. “You
sound sleepy. Are you?”

“A little. Sandy was over yesterday evening and after
he left it took me a long time to fall asleep.” Janine
forced herself awake. “I’m glad you called. I wanted to
invite you to dinner here at Rena’s apartment
sometime this week or next.”

“I’d enjoy that,” Helene said sincerely. “Would you
mind if Jacques joined us? You see, the reason I called
is that Jacques has three tickets to a performance by
Marcel Marceau this Saturday. I thought you might
like to go with us. If you don’t mind, we could have
dinner with you first. Though it would mean eating
rather early…say by six o’clock.”

It was Janine’s turn to laugh. “By American
standards,” she said, “that’s not early at all. Of course
Jacques can join us for dinner. I’d be delighted to see
him again. And Marcel Marceau sounds great.”

“Good,” Helene answered. “Then we shall see you
Saturday at six o’clock or five-thirty. Au revoir”

“Au revoir,” Janine replied.

As she set down the phone, Janine was conscious of
a growing sense of excitement. What should she serve
Saturday night? Nothing French, that was certain! Happily Janine planned a menu and made up a
shopping list, forgetting about her own breakfast. She
was thus engaged when the phone rang. “Allo?” she
said.

“Morning, Jenny,” Sandy answered cheerfully.
“How’s my kitten this morning?”

“Fine. And you?”

“I’m always okay,” he replied. He sounded excited
as he said, “Guess what, I’ve got a surprise for you!”

“Oh?”

“I’ve arranged for us to go out to Versailles
Saturday. You, me, Betty, and Alan. We’ll take Alan’s
car and go for the whole day. We’ll even have a picnic.
How does that sound?”

“Great! Only…” Janine’s voice faltered.

“Only what?” Sandy growled.

“Only I can’t,” Janine finished.

“Why not?” Sandy demanded. “I thought this was
the sort of thing you liked. I went to a lot of trouble to
arrange it.”

“I appreciate that. But I’ve already made other plans
for Saturday. I’m having Helene over for dinner.”

“Oh, well, we can be back by five o’clock and you’ll
have plenty of time to fix dinner. The French don’t
mind eating late anyway,” Sandy said.

“Dinner is set for six o’clock,” Janine said firmly,
and I’ll need a couple of hours to do the cooking.”

“All right, all right,” Sandy grumbled. “We’ll go
another time. Do I have to dress up for dinner with
Helene?”

“Sandy,” Janine said gently, “you’re not invited. I
mean, we’ll be talking in French and you don’t know
much French.”

“Doesn’t she know English?” he demanded. “I
thought you said she did.”

“Yes, but Jacques doesn’t,” Janine replied without
thinking.

“Who is Jacques?”

“Helene’s brother,” she said with a sinking feeling.

“All right. Then I’ll drop by after dinner,” Sandy
said grimly. “Or can’t I do that, either?”

“Well, no, you can’t,” Janine said unhappily. “After
dinner the three of us are going out. To a performance
by Marcel Marceau.”

As Sandy swore quietly, Janine anxiously said,
“Sandy, please, don’t be angry. I mean, they are my
friends. And I see you all the time.”

“I’m not angry,” he said easily, with an abrupt
change of tone, “and I do understand. I was just, uh,
just swearing over the fact that I don’t know more
French. Marcel Marceau, you said? Saturday evening`?
Well, I hope you have a nice time. I really do. Give
Helene and her brother my regards. We can go to
Versailles another time. I’ll be seeing you. ‘Bye, Jenny.”

Janine barely had time to say good-bye before
Sandy hung up. A moment later she realized that
Sandy had said nothing about seeing her today. And,
she realized, she rather enjoyed the thought of a day to
herself. Eagerly Janine made herself coffee as she
thought about what she wanted to do. Well, she hadn’t
really had much chance to go shopping since her arrival
in Paris and her budget would surely stretch for a new
outfit.

A few minutes later, a confident, smiling young
woman boarded a bus headed for the department
stores.

Janine came awake slowly. She knew there was
something she was supposed to do today, but at the
moment she couldn’t remember what it was. Oh, yes.
Helene and Jacques were coming over for dinner.
Janine pushed aside the light blanket and climbed out
of bed. First a quick shower, then shopping, then clean
up the apartment. She had meant to do most of that
yesterday but Sandy had come over and, well, she
couldn’t very well ignore him. Besides, he was being so
sweet about this evening. He hadn’t said another word
about it except to tell her again to have a good time.
And for Sandy, that was saying a lot.

Dear Sandy! Janine thought as she dressed. He was
trying so hard to make her happy. He really seemed to
be in love. Janine felt a pang of guilt. It wasn’t fair to
Sandy for her to be so uncertain about how she felt.
Maybe he was right; maybe she expected too much
from love. It all comes from reading fairy tales as a little
girl, Janine told herself. And you’re certainly no
princess, though as Mark says, Sandy would almost
make you one, if you married him.

With a sigh, Janine stepped into her sandals. Soon
Sandy would ask her for some kind of commitment
and she just wasn’t ready. She wished she could talk to
her father, but she knew instinctively that her father
would dislike the young man. Besides, he still thought
of her as a little girl, much too young to think about
getting married. He would probably say that if you had
to ask, the answer should be no.