“Oui, madame.”
I watch him go inside the building before focusing on the empty park across the street once more. There’s a light, cool breeze rustling the leaves of the trees, making them dance. Mesmerized, their music envelops me. I pretend they are whispering their secrets to me, telling me that I’ve come to the right place, that we’re doing the right thing. And slowly, very slowly, hope spreads its warm light like a new dawn. I take a deep breath enjoying the view a little longer, then follow Pierre inside, a new spring in my step.
Pierre has placed my suitcases in the bedroom and is waiting for my next orders. I browse the place William has rented indefinitely, admiring the elegant décor. The furniture and walls are shades of ice white and cool grays. Everything matches. Everything is pleasing to the eye.
I trace a gleaming wood table sitting in the middle of the foyer with the back of my fingers. “Wow. This place is something else.”
Pierre nods in agreement. “Would that be all, madame?”
I remove my trench coat. “Yes, thank you so much.”
When he’s in front of me, he extends a hand with a card in it. “Here’s my number. Call whenever you need me. Your husband’s assistant hired me for the entirety of your stay in Paris.”
“You’ll definitely be hearing from me.” I take it from him and run my fingers on the cool paper, chuckling lightly. “I don’t even know where to go food shopping.”
We go over tomorrow’s schedule, and as he’s getting ready to leave, I notice the time. Noting it’s still relatively early, I realize that I don’t want to stay in. I’m in Paris after all. Paris! Excitement courses through me, making my body hum.
“One second, Pierre.”
With one hand on the door handle, Pierre glances in my direction. “Yes?”
“I think I’d like to go out for dinner.”
He lets go of the handle and turns to face me. “Would you like me to wait for you until you’re ready to go out?”
“Oh, no, no need for that. I’d like to do some exploring on my own, actually. I was just wondering if you could recommend a place nearby with live music and great food? I don’t want to get lost on my first day here.”
“Of course. There’s a nice place not far from here. Great food. Sometimes they have a live band on the weekends.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“It’s straight down the road. You can’t miss it.”
After Pierre writes down the name and the directions to the restaurant, he takes his leave, I jump in the shower, thoughts of a delicious dinner already filling my head. Once my hair and makeup are taken care of, I choose a form-fitting short white dress with a cape and nude heels.
Clutch in hand, I leave the apartment behind and set out into the night. I’m a ball of nerves and crazy exhilaration and, maybe, a little fear.
I reach the restaurant without a problem. The place is low-key yet stylish, bathed in an amber haze, the aroma of truffle oil and butter float in the air. The people, lost in their own conversations fueled by wine and a good time, are dressed elegantly. To my left, near the floor to ceiling windows, there’s a band playing a jazzy tune. I smile. This is exactly what I was looking for.
I spot a svelte young brunette behind the hostess stand talking to a couple. As I wait for my turn, I hear that she’s speaking in English. Thank goodness. When the man and woman step to the side, I move to the counter.
“Hello, I was wondering if there’s a table available for one.”
“Bonjour,” she answers politely, looking at the computer screen in front of her. “There’s about an hour’s wait for the next open table.”
I thank her after she writes my name down, and head to the bar, which seems to be as crowded as the rest of the restaurant. There isn’t one seat available, and there’s a large group of people surrounding it like a barricade. Sighing, I remember seeing an open gallery next door. A more pleasurable idea forms in my head. Maybe I can take a quick look in there to pass the time instead.
As soon as I step in, I immediately realize the big mistake I’ve made. It appears like I just crashed a party, maybe the opening of an art exhibit. Everywhere I look there are people dressed to the nines. Waiters balancing trays full of drinks and hors d’oeuvres, and a violinist wanders the room playing what I believe is Mozart. It’s beautiful.
I’m about to leave when my eyes land on a painting to my left that makes me stop in my tracks. Hypnotized, every part of my me demands to see it up close. I hesitate, remembering that I don’t have an invitation, but dismiss the thought as quickly as it comes. I shouldn’t offend anyone as long as I’m quick and I don’t have anything to eat or drink.
The noise fades when I’m standing in front of it. It’s a lone poppy flower crushed on the ground, droplets of rain falling around it. The colors are dark, intense, the brush strokes powerful, angry. It makes me think of life and how fragile it is. One day you’re young and beautiful and the next you’re dying alone, forgotten, on the cold, hard ground.
I’m still absorbed in the painting when I feel someone’s presence behind me.
“Excusez-moi,” a woman addresses me in not such a friendly tone.
Shit.
Dread lodges in my stomach as I turn slowly, so very slowly, to face the slim woman dressed in black now standing in front of me. And yep, I was right. She looks pissed off.
An apology on my tongue, the woman starts to spew accusations in fast, heated French. She’s getting louder and louder. Out of the corner of my eyes, I notice that we’re drawing a lot of attention. Even the violinist has stopped playing. This would be a perfect time for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter nervously, raising my hands in peace. I close my eyes momentarily, cursing my clumsiness for not knowing French. “I’m so sorry,” I repeat, embarrassed and uncomfortable. “I don’t understand what you’re saying, but I’m going to leave now. I’m really, really sorry.”
She draws the attention of some very serious, angry looking men, maybe the security personnel, points irately toward me and the door. As they begin to stride toward us, I back off, fear making my steps unsure. “I’m going to leave now. No need to escort me out.” God, I need to get out of here.