“Where are you staying?” Veronique asked.
“The Four Seasons.”
“Very nice,” Veronique said.
Paul pulled a hand from his pocket and extended it toward Dina, giving her a fleeting smile. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Dina. I hope you enjoy yourself in Paris. It’s a wonderful city.”
Dina took his hand and held it limply. She couldn’t hide her disappointment. “I’m sure I will. Who knows, maybe we’ll bump into each other again someplace.”
Paul tried to grin, but failed. “You never know. Goodbye then.”
Dina watched his retreating figure, her shoulders sagging a little.
Veronique turned up the collar of her coat, suddenly feeling a chill. “You like him, don’t you?” she said.
Dina twisted up her lips in thought. “Don’t know him.”
“Hope I didn’t scare him off,” Veronique said.
“I don’t think so. He’s good looking, but he seems all tied up in knots or something,” Dina said. “He doesn’t smile much, but he’s nice. Did you see how he smiled at the little girl? He was very kind and gentle with her, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, he was.”
“But, yes, I like him. There’s something about him, I don’t know, maybe a touch of mystery or something. He left so abruptly, didn’t he? Do you think I said something wrong?”
Veronique linked her arm into Dina’s and they started off.
“Don’t worry, Dina, there are a lot of men in Paris, not to mention Rome and New York. Meanwhile, let’s do some more shopping—something Chanel for tonight. We’re going to be chic and trendy, Dina. We’re going to Matignon for dinner, and then downstairs to the club to dance. Now, how does that sound?”
Dina was distracted, blinking at a thought. “You know, Paul seems so familiar to me … like I’ve met him somewhere before.”
CHAPTER 10
That evening, Dina and Veronique dined at Matignon, a restaurant, bar and nightclub at 3 Avenue Matignon, just a few steps off the Champs‐Elysées. The décor was a luxurious mix of eclectic and opulent, with waiters dressed in suits and waitresses in dresses. The music was electro pop-rock—the atmosphere trendy elegance. Dina wore a green velvet Chanel silk sleeveless dress with heels, and Veronique a navy Chanel silk sheath dress with classic satin pumps.
The ladies mixed well with the stylish and fashionable, as they sipped Champagne, dined on steak and caught the eyes of cool, handsome men nearby, dressed in slim suits and leather pointed shoes. And there was a young, gorgeous man with long, curling, chestnut hair, sitting with two older women, all looking fashionably bored. The man openly flirted with Dina, with lustful, lowered eyelids. He wore a slim fitted brown leather jacket, unbuttoned, over a cream-colored silk shirt and light brown sweater. A gold silk scarf was tossed around his neck, and Dina thought he was the most stylish man she’d ever seen.
Veronique leaned toward Dina’s ear and whispered. “The key to his look is the layering. Each layer allows the layer under it to peek out just a bit. I think he likes you, Dina.”
Dina felt self-consciousness and deliriously excited wearing her very expensive dress, her pearl drop earrings, and her new French hairdo. She’d taken on a brand-new identity and been magically transformed, just like Cinderella. All she needed was a dazzling coach and a prince charming.
Veronique had insisted Dina visit the hair salon just around the corner from the hotel, and the busy, fastidious women had worked on her hair for nearly two hours, creating a half-up hairdo with curls. Dina loved the style, but found the girl staring back at her in the mirror strangely unrecognizable. That girl seemed poised, sophisticated and self-assured. Her mouth was even puckered, imitating the French hair stylists’, who circled her chair, examining their superb work in fussy mumbles, making final adjustments with little pats of her hair.
After dinner, the girls went downstairs to Club Matignon, with its dim lighting, gold bullion walls and soft seats. Veronique pulled Dina onto the dance floor and they moved and swayed to the DJ’s selection of electro pop, while couples around them took Selfies and twirled, capturing the lively, pulsing atmosphere.
An hour later, as Dina was sipping the last of the Champagne, Veronique glanced at her cell phone. Suddenly, her smile vanished. Her body stiffened.
Dina leaned over, raising her voice over the music. “What’s the matter, Veronique?”
Veronique shut her eyes. “Oh, my God, Dina.”
“What is it?”
Veronique inhaled a breath. “It’s my father. He’s had a stroke. This text is from my sister, Simone.”
“Oh no… Is it serious?”
“Yes, it seems so. He’s paralyzed on his right side.”
Veronique turned to face Dina. “Dina… I am so sorry. I have to go home. I’m going to have to leave you.”
“Of course you do, Veronique. You must go home.”
“But how can I? How can I leave you now? We’re supposed to leave for Rome on Sunday. You have another day in Paris. There was so much I wanted to show you.”
Dina touched Veronique’s arm. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Let’s go, so you can make your travel plans.”
The next morning, Veronique stopped by Dina’s room, the strain of both worry and little sleep evident on her face.
“Is your father any better?” Dina asked, still in her blue terry robe.
“No, Dina. I’m afraid he’s not. My sister is very worried.”
Veronique handed Dina an envelope. “In that envelope is everything you’ll need. Credit cards, phone numbers and emergency contacts. If you need anything—anything at all—simply call either of the numbers I wrote down on your itinerary. I spoke with my contacts again this morning and they are aware of everything. They’re making arrangements to send you another traveling companion. Hopefully, you will meet her in Rome tomorrow.”
“I don’t need another traveling companion,” Dina said. “Tell them I’ll be all right traveling alone.”
Veronique took Dina’s hand. “I am so sorry, Dina. I would never leave you like this if it weren’t for my father.”
“It’s okay, Veronique. Really. You have to go. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Will I ever see you again?”
Veronique frowned, then looked down and away. “No, Dina, I’m afraid not. It was all part of the contract I signed. I’m sorry. We’ve had such fun, and I will miss you. In a short time, we have become such good friends.”
Veronique leaned and kissed Dina on both cheeks, French style, and when she drew back, her eyes glistened with tears. “Please enjoy the rest of your vacation and have a wonderful time.”
“If you get the chance, can you let me know how your father is and how you’re doing?” Dina asked.
“I’ll try. I must go now. Goodbye, Dina. Thank you for a lovely time.”
The girls hugged, and then Veronique was gone.
Dina dropped down on her bed and stared ahead. She would miss her new friend. They had hit it off from the start, and Dina found it depressing and irritating that whoever had set all this up wouldn’t allow them to stay in touch.
Minutes later, Dina shot up, her mind racing, spinning and wondering anew, and with greater impulse. So, who was this person who was pulling all the strings and making everyone dance? Sure, she’d received a fantastic Christmas gift, but why all the secrecy and contracts? What was the point? Why didn’t this person have the courage to face her and tell her what it was all about?
Lying there alone, Dina felt misplaced and lonely, and for the first time since she’d left the U.S., the impact of the entire bizarre situation struck her like a bucket of cold water in the face. She felt strange and vulnerable now that Veronique was gone, and she didn’t want another companion. It would mean more complexity and adjustments and, whoever it would be, Dina would inevitably compare her to Veronique, and that wouldn’t be fair. Maybe she should forget the rest of the trip and go home?
Dina snatched up the envelope that Vero
nique had handed her, opened the flap and drew out three folded pieces of paper. She found two emergency numbers, grabbed her phone, flopped back down on the bed and dialed the first. After six rings, a calm male voice answered.
“Hello, this is Clark Timmons.”
Dina swallowed, pulled the phone from her ear, stared down at it, and then pressed it back her ear. “Mr. Timmons?” she asked, timidly.
“Yes, Miss Lee. How are you?”
“I’m fine. I mean, well, it’s just that…” and then her voice dropped away.
“Can I help you in some way? Is everything all right?”
“Well…yes. Everything is fine. I just wanted to say that…well, I don’t need another traveling companion. I’ll be fine on my own.”
“I see. It is unfortunate news about Miss Bonnard’s father. We have made all the necessary arrangements for her to see her father, and we’ll help her all we can.”
“And who is the We, Mr. Timmons?”
“As I stated previously, Miss Lee, that must be kept confidential. Now as to your traveling companion, it was agreed that since you have never traveled to Europe, it is best for you to have a companion who has facility with languages and experience in international travel. Someone will be meeting you in Rome tomorrow at the Grand Hotel Palace.”
“Mr. Timmons, I don’t want to sound ungrateful or difficult, but I don’t need or want another companion. If fact, I want to travel alone. I’m a grown woman and your boss— or whoever and whatever—has already given me everything I need, so please, don’t send another person. Can you please pass that along to the right person?”
“Yes, Miss Lee, I will pass it along. In the meantime, if you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call this number. I’m always available.”
“Mr. Timmons… don’t you get tired of always being available?”
Silence.
“Mr. Timmons, are you there?”
“Yes, Miss Lee. Please enjoy yourself and call if you have any issues or questions.”
On her last day in Paris, Dina decided she wanted to walk the streets, watch the people and absorb the holiday atmosphere. After a shower, breakfast in her room and a touch up of her hair, she dressed and reached for her new faux-fur-trim hooded down puffer coat, and was almost out the door when the hotel phone rang.
She turned sharply with surprise, reached over and answered it.
“Miss Lee?” a deep warm voice asked.
Dina didn’t recognize the male voice. “Yes? Who is this?”
The man cleared his voice. “Miss Lee, this is Paul. Paul… Smith. We met yesterday.”
Dina froze, silent for a moment. “Yes… Paul.” Her voice brightened in recognition. “Oh, yes. Hello.”
“I hope you don’t mind me calling you like this. You said yesterday that you were staying at the Hotel d’Aubusson.”
Dina absorbed a wave of pleasure at hearing his voice again. “No, I don’t mind.”
“Look, I want to apologize for yesterday—for leaving you so abruptly like that. That was rude.”
“I hope I didn’t say anything to offend you,” Dina said.
“No, no, nothing like that. I was just a… Well, anyway, I’m sorry.”
Dina heard a little whooshing sound, as if he’d exhaled.
Paul continued. “I was thinking that if you’re not busy today, maybe we could do something together.”
Dina reached for one of her curls, twirling it in her hand. “Yeah, sure. I’d love to do something. Anything in mind?”
“Have you seen the Christmas window displays at the department stores? People come from all over the world to see them. Maybe that would be a good start. From there, well maybe we could try ice skating again.”
Dina shut her eyes, imagining Paul’s clean, handsome face, thick dark hair and reserved manner. She recalled the mystery of him, and she felt a little flutter of excitement. “Sounds good. Yes.”
“Good. Then I’ll come by in my car and pick you up in say, 30 minutes?”
“Yes, good.”
“Had breakfast?”
“Yes. You?”
“Yes. Okay then, I’ll see you soon.”
Later, Dina and Paul walked leisurely past the windows of the three great Parisian department stores: Galeries Lafayette, Printemps, and Bon Marché, taking in the animated and whimsical displays. Children pointed and stared into the windows in glowing wonder, and Dina stole glances at Paul as he studied the kids with amused interest. He was dressed casually in dark slacks, a blue shirt and a double breasted gray trench coat. His hair was parted on the side and combed sideways, giving him a clean, cosmopolitan look, a less somber business look. The style was different from yesterday’s, and Dina liked it and thought of telling him so, but then decided against it. He had complimented her on her new hairdo, mentioning that it looked very chic and French. That had pleased her.
Paul had purposefully changed his hairstyle, hoping it would help keep Dina from recalling their first meeting at the restaurant in Colorado.
“They’re having great fun,” Paul said, watching the kids, his eyes coming alive. “Reminds me a little of when I was a kid.”
“Where did you grow up?” Dina asked.
“Oh, just a small town. No place, really.”
They started off, and Paul became silent and guarded again. Again, Dina found it both puzzling and disappointing. Had she said something wrong? They paused at La Maison du Chocolat window, and stared at the jewel-like bonbons with lemon, mint, and ginger-infused fillings.
“Would you like something?” Paul asked. “I had an eclair here once, and it was the best I’ve ever had.”
The lines were out the door, and the wind had picked up, chilling the day.
“Maybe I’ll come back later, when it’s not so busy,” Dina said.
They moved on through the streams of tourists, who were speaking German, English and Japanese.
“What do you do?” Dina asked. “I mean in New York. What kind of work do you do?”
She noticed his jaw tightened.
“I work in technology.”
Dina laughed a little, and Paul loved the sound of it. It was a musical laugh. A cheerful, girlish laugh.
“Are you always so specific, Paul?”
He glanced at her, and managed a strained smile. “Among other things, I run a company that— well, let me give you the tech speak: we are a leading provider of cyber security solutions that protect business-critical data and applications.”
“Sounds impressive.”
Paul pocketed his hands. “Yes, I suppose it does.”
“And necessary.”
“I think so.”
Dina said, “When I was in college, I worked as an intern with a tech company in Ohio.”
Paul turned in surprise. “Really?”
“Yes. It was a small company. I think they’ve been bought out since I was there.”
“What did they do?”
“They were developing products that focused on securing public and private clouds, and detecting targeted e-mail attacks.”
Paul stopped short, his interest growing. Dina halted, shifting away from the crowds. She raked a strand of hair from her eyes.
“So, you understand cyber technology?” Paul asked.
“Yes, some. I was just an intern. I was working in the PR and marketing departments.”
“Did you get a degree?”
Dina zipped her coat up tightly to her neck. “No, I ran out of money.”
“What was your major?”
“New Media and Communication Technology.”
Paul nodded, as his eyes glazed over with thought.
“You seem surprised,” Dina said.
Paul gave a little shake of his head, as if to clear it. “It’s just that I thought that you worked…”
He stopped just in time. He’d almost given himself away. She hadn’t told him where she worked.
Dina stared at him, drawing him into focus. “Thought
that I worked where?”
Paul began walking again, and she followed. “Oh, I just thought that you worked in technology… I mean, from what you said.”
Dina couldn’t figure this guy out. He was friendly and yet reserved. Respectful and yet withholding.
Lost in thought, he quickly realized he was taking his usual long strides, leaving Dina slightly behind, and so he slowed down, facing her apologetically.
“Sorry. I’m so used to being alone and walking fast.”
Dina was pleased by his manners, but confused and troubled by him too. He was attractive, no doubt, and she liked his lips that were often parted when he went into thought. She also liked the intensity of his gaze, and the kindness of his gaze. Dina just couldn’t figure him out. He was truly a mystery, but a mystery she was growing more attracted to by the hour.
Paul was fighting an inner battle—the battle that had begun at the Mona Lisa, when he’d spoken to Dina and asked her to coffee. Should he excuse himself and leave, and never see Dina again, or should he tell her the truth—that he was the man responsible for giving her the Christmas vacation? As he played the possible conversation in his head, the whole dialogue sounded silly and ludicrous. The whole idea and plan of sending her to Europe and New York had once given him a lift of spirit. Now it seemed adolescent and ridiculous. Why had he done it? He was a mature, responsible and respected business man, not some silly, impulsive teenager.
“I’m leaving for Rome tomorrow,” Dina said.
They were approaching the Eiffel Tower.
Paul didn’t look at her. “Are you?”
They kept walking. Minutes later they paused near the Pont d’Iéna, the “Jena Bridge” that spanned the Seine. Paul searched for words, but none came.
“I saw this bridge in a James Bond movie,” Dina said. “I don’t remember the name.”
Paul looked skyward, watching a heavy gray cloud pass over. “Rome is a beautiful city.”
“You’ve been?” Dina asked.
“Yes, on business, several times.”
“Any tips on what I should see?”
Paul turned to look at her, watching the wind play in her hair, seeing her blue, puzzled eyes searching his, seeing her creamy white skin and perfect, berry-colored lips. He opened his mouth to tell her—yes—he was going to tell her the truth about him, because he knew he had been kidding himself all along. He’d been fighting it and not doing a very good job of it. It was simple. Dina was a woman he could fall in love with, and it had happened in a lightning flash, back at that Colorado restaurant. He’d been too thick-headed and stupid to recognize it then, parlaying that attraction instead into the vacation gift. He saw it now, standing here looking at her and feeling himself more alive than he’d felt in years. He’d been too locked up inside—too numbed by the past to remember what it was like to feel inexplicably drawn to another person.
The Date Before Christmas: A Novel Page 10
