I could barely contain my excitement as I heard the ding over the plane's intercom system. "Mesdames et messieurs , nous faisons notre approche finale de l'aéroport Charles De Gaulle. Merci pour voler avec AirFrance aujourd'hui, et nous espérons que votre profiter de votre journée. Ladies and Gentlemen, we are now making our final approach to Charles De Gaulle airport. For all of the crew, I'd like to thank you for flying Air France today, and wish you a good journey."
I looked to my right, where the green French countryside rolled by, the English Channel barely visible in the distance. After hours of seeing nothing but black sea and clouds beneath me, I was grateful for any change. "I thought I'd see more of the city,” I said, "but it’s still beautiful. When will we be able to see Paris?"
"Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time to explore the city," the man to my left said. I turned to look at Felix Hardy, who’d gracefully switched seats with me. While flying Business Class certainly was better than flying in economy, my original seat didn't have a good view out of the window. The miniature cocoon did allow me to sleep on the flight, however, which was enjoyable. "The plane approaches from the wrong side for you to see from your seat. Just think of it as a chance to be surprised. Where would you like to go first? The Champ Elysees, Notre Dame and the Eiffel Tower, or maybe a river cruise along the Seine?"
"Perhaps our lady would like to see the Louvre?" said the man in front of me. Sticking his head over the top, Francois Hardy smiled down at me. "I know I would."
I rolled my eyes. "You just want to show off," I said with a small smile. In the past month, I'd come to find myself smiling more and more. It was easy with the two brothers, who had, at first, kidnapped me before I ended up volunteering to go with them. I was infatuated with them, and I loved it. It was a new and exciting experience.
Even the fact that it was both brothers who'd stolen my heart wasn't all that hard for me to accept. It was like they each filled a specific niche in my heart, and I filled a certain place in theirs. With Felix, I was the comforter, the one who allowed him to let down his guard a bit and show me the sensitive side underneath the cool, seemingly arrogant exterior. Meanwhile, with Francois, I felt like I was in a whirlwind of romance, buffeted around and loving every minute of it. If I had to draw comparisons to my main love of music, Felix was like playing Leonard Cohen while Francois was like playing Jim Steinman. Cohen isn't everyone's cup of tea, but there’s depth and meaning there that touches your soul. And it's not a proper Steinman song unless things get 'turned up to eleven' at least once, but there’s no lack of depth either. You can't say one is better than the other, it comes down to personal preference. The analogy fits the brothers perfectly. Thankfully, I happen to like both Cohen and Steinman.
Francois gave me a knowing smile and turned around. With the two brothers being some of the best thieves in the world, he earned the right to occasionally brag just a little bit. According to some of the seemingly tall tales that I'd gotten, walking into the Louvre would be more like walking into the world's greatest depository of replicas and knock-offs, the Hardy family holding a good portion of the originals.
Felix leaned over from his seat. “But seriously, after a night or two in Paris, I thought you might like to visit our family seat in the Rhone valley," he said with a smile. "And maybe enjoy some of the best wine in the world.”
"You own a vineyard?" I asked, my mouth falling open. "But I thought you said that you lived a restrained lifestyle."
Felix nodded. "We do. The house isn’t very large, and the vineyard doesn't produce much. It barely pays for itself on a yearly basis."
I shook my head in amazement and turned back towards the window. The countryside gave way to the outskirts of Paris and the greens receded into urban settings. Buildings began to whiz by underneath, and then we were in the airport complex, touching down on the runway.
Charles de Gaulle Airport is huge even compared to LAX. It took us nearly fifteen minutes just to taxi from the runway to the gate, and then once inside, I felt lost. The architecture was impressive and artistic, and actually, a little bit intimidating. It had that sense of imposing grandeur that was popular in the nineteen sixties, which if the in-flight magazine I'd read was correct, made sense. I wasn’t prepared for all of it, and would have felt more than a little freaked out if Francois hadn't reached over and taken my hand. "Don’t worry . . . I prefer to fly into Rome myself. De Gaulle is too crazy for my liking."