A Summer in Paris

by Cynthia Baxter

  Before she had even made a decision about what she wanted to say to him, she turned and cried, “Pierre, don’t go. Not yet. Let’s ... let’s have dinner together. I’ll just call the Rousseaus to tell them I’ve made other plans.”

  She was pleased when he took her to the same café they had visited together the day he made his first sketch of her, the one with the red-and-white checked tablecloths and the plump, mustached owner. He wasn’t there on this Sunday evening, but that didn’t matter. At the moment, Pierre was the only person Nina was seeing, anyway.

  “Pierre,” she said hesitantly after their waiter had brought them their dinner, “remember those things you were saying before, about the way it will feel when I have to leave at the end of the summer?” She swallowed hard. “I have been thinking about that, too.”

  He nodded. “Nina, what are you going to be doing in the autumn, when you go back home to America?”

  “I am going to college.”

  “You are excited about this?”

  Nina shrugged. “Not really. The college I am going to is small and not very far away from where I grew up. I’m afraid it won’t be much of a challenge. Things won’t be too different from the way they were last year.”

  Pierre looked surprised. “If you feel that way, then why did you choose such a place?”

  “I didn’t really choose it,” she said slowly, realizing even as she said the words that they sounded absurd. “My parents chose it.”

  “Your parents. But I do not understand. Why are they the ones to choose where you will study, where you will live ... how you will be spending the next few years of your life? You are practically a grown woman, Nina. Isn’t it time you made such decisions for yourself?”

  His expression immediately turned to one of sheepishness. “I’m sorry. There I go again, exploding all over the place, trying to tell you what you should and shouldn’t do.” He laughed. “So perhaps I am not so different from your parents.”

  “No, you are right about my making my own decisions,” Nina told him. “I know you are. But sometimes ... sometimes it is simply easier to go along with what other people want for you. Especially if those people happen to be your parents.”

  “Ah, yes. Sometimes I forget that.” He looked sad as he added, “My father died when I was twelve, my mother when I was fifteen. Since then, as you know, I have lived with my grandfather. He is a great influence in my life, of course, but he and I have always just taken it for granted that I would make all those decisions on my own.”

  “It’s not that the college I’m going to is a terrible place or anything,” Nina was quick to interject. “It’s just that ...” She sighed. “To tell you the truth, Pierre, before I came to Paris, going to school there seemed to make perfect sense. It was the obvious choice, and it never occurred to me to contradict my parents. But now that I have come here, now that I have lived in this wonderful city....”

  “And now that you have met me, of course.” Pierre was trying to sound as if he were teasing.

  But this time, it was Nina’s turn to remain serious. “Yes, that, too,” she said. “Having met you has also changed the way I look at things.”

  She stared at the edge of the tablecloth for a long time, silent. When she finally looked up at him, her eyes were wet.

  “Pierre,” she said in a voice choked with emotion, “I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do. Now that I have met you, now that I have fallen in love with this city, how am I supposed to get on a plane at the end of the summer and fly away? How can anyone expect me to leave behind everything that has become important to me?”

  Nina shook her head in confusion. “I know this was supposed to be just a summer trip, a chance for me to learn and to expand my horizons and all that. But it’s turning out to be so much more complicated than I ever dreamed. I never expected to feel so much at home here. I’m astounded every time I open my mouth and hear entire French sentences come out. It’s as if I had been born to speak this language. Sometimes I even find myself thinking in French.

  “And then ... and then there’s you.” She paused, swallowing hard. “I... I don’t understand the way I feel about you, Pierre. I’ve known you only for a few weeks. It’s such a short time; I know it is. But even so, it’s as if you’re the person I’ve been waiting to meet my whole life. It’s as if I already knew you, somehow, and understood all along that it was just a question of time until I found you.” She looked at him pleadingly. “It’s such a strange feeling, something I’ve never experienced before.”

  “I think I know what you mean,” Pierre said, so softly that Nina could hardly hear him. He reached across the table and took her hand, holding it firmly in his. “And I think I know what that feeling is called. It’s love, Nina. I know that I love you. And what about you? Do you think perhaps the feeling you are talking about could be love?”

  As Nina looked into his deep blue eyes, she felt as if she were falling into them. And at that moment, she understood that the magic between them was special, something that would never fade.

  “Yes, Pierre,” she said. “I know it is love.”

  Chapter 7

  “Surprise, surprise!” cried Nina, thrusting a box that was carefully wrapped in pink-and-lavender paper, then topped with a floppy pink bow, at Kristy.

  “Happy birthday,” chimed in Jennifer, who was also holding a gift. “Surprise, Kristy!”

  And Kristy really was surprised. The very last thing she had been anticipating that Monday afternoon as she met her two friends in front of the library at the Sorbonne—supposedly for a study session—was an impromptu little birthday celebration.

  In fact, she didn’t even expect them to have remembered that today was her birthday, what with all the excitement of being in France for the summer. Sure, she had mentioned it once or twice, just in passing. But she had had no idea they would do anything special.

  Yet here they were, both of them with presents in hand. A large, mysterious basket sat on the bench beside them, covered with a neatly folded cloth.

  “Those are our party refreshments,” Nina informed Kristy, noticing where her eyes had traveled. “We figured it would be much more fun—much more Parisian—to have a birthday party for you outside in one of the parks.”

  “I wanted to have it at McDonald’s,” Jennifer said, laughing. “I thought you might enjoy having a real American-style birthday party. But Nina talked me out of it.”

  “Any place would have been just fine,” Kristy assured her friends. She was sincerely touched by their thoughtfulness. “But Nina is right. Having a picnic does seem very Parisian. And the idea of celebrating my eighteenth birthday in Paris is so exciting that I might as well do it in a way that makes me feel French.”

  And so the three girls set out to find a shady, grassy spot near the Sorbonne, strolling a few blocks over to the famous Jardin du Luxembourg. The grounds surrounding the Palais du Luxembourg, built in the early 1600s, were just the right place for an occasion as important as this one. Kristy, who had already explored this park thoroughly with Alain after one of their lunch dates, led the others to the Fontaine de Medicis, a long, rectangular pool of water surrounded by ornate carvings that was a popular resting place for both Parisians and tourists.

  Once they were comfortably seated, Nina lifted off the cloth, spread it out on the lawn, and took out a square white bakery box.

  Kristy gasped. “A birthday cake?”

  “Well, of course. What did you expect?”

  “But where did you ever find a birthday cake ... in Paris?”

  Even Jennifer laughed. “They celebrate birthdays here, too, you know.”

  Sure enough; inside the box there was a chocolate raspberry gateau. Lying in the box next to it were eighteen candles—plus one for good luck. Even the candles were special. They were very long, almost ten niches, and as thin as toothpicks.

  “They’re called bougies,” Nina informed them, arranging them in a circle on top of the cake. Shyly, she add
ed, “Pierre told me about them.”

  “What a beautiful cake!” Kristy cried. “Here, let me take its picture. I’ll take your picture, too.”

  As she readied the adjustments on the camera she had begun carrying with her at all times, Nina commented, “Goodness, Kristy, you’re becoming quite a shutterbug, aren’t you?”

  “A what?” Jennifer said.

  Kristy translated for her. “A camera freak.” She was wearing a big grin. “Well, yes. I guess you could say that. And the best part, aside from the fact that I’m really finding it fun, is that it turns out I have kind of a knack for taking pictures.”

  “Oh, no.” Jennifer groaned. “Not another Parisian artiste!”

  Nina and Jennifer had also brought along a bottle of Coke, as well as napkins, paper plates, plastic forks, and plastic knives. They had thought of everything, going to quite a bit of trouble to make Kristy’s eighteenth birthday special. When they began to sing “Happy Birthday,” it was all she could do to keep from bursting into tears. Instead, she leaned forward and blew out her candles.

  “You guys ...” she said hoarsely. “You’re really too much. Both of you.”

  “I hope you remembered to make your wish,” Jennifer reminded her.

  “What more could I possibly wish for besides two great friends like you?”

  Jennifer looked at Nina and grinned. “Maybe one of the things in these boxes. At least I hope so.”

  “Open this one first,” Nina urged, picking up the pink-and-purple package. “It’s from me.”

  Her gift was a dictionary of French slang expressions. As Kristy unwrapped it, Nina teasingly explained, “It’s to help you with your romance with Alain.”

  “Well, I don’t know how much of a romance we’re having,” Kristy returned with a sigh, “but it’ll be helpful with whatever is going on between us. Alain is probably the sweetest boy I’ve ever met in my life, but his English ... well, let’s just say it’s a little bit more creative than what I’m used to.”

  Nina laughed. “Maybe I should have gotten him a dictionary of English slang.”

  “Hey, what is going on with you guys, anyway?” Jennifer asked. “He waits for you after class every single day. You two are a real item, going out for lunch together like clockwork.”

  “And I heard that you’ve been going out in the evenings, too,” Nina said. “If all that’s not a romance, then I don’t know what is.”

  Kristy smiled. “He is taking me out to dinner tonight. He wants to celebrate my birthday in style.”

  “Oh, cool!” Jennifer leaned forward excitedly. “Where is he taking you? Someplace fancy? One of those fine gourmet restaurants that serve snails and rabbits and stuff like that?”

  With a shrug, Kristy said, “I don’t really know. You see, I get the impression that Alain comes from a family that doesn’t have very much money. His father runs a shop somewhere on the outskirts of the city.”

  “You mean like a little grocery store or something?” Jennifer asked.

  “I think so. Anyway, I know he would love to take me out to a really special restaurant. I just hate to have him spend a lot of money on me.”

  Especially since if he did, it would mainly be because he thinks that’s the kind of treatment I’m used to, Kristy was thinking. In fact, she was tempted to confess the whole thing to Nina and Jennifer. In the end, however, she realized that she was so embarrassed by the way in which she had lied to Alain that she would never be able to bring herself to admit it, not even to these girls, her two best friends in the entire world.

  “Well, Kristy,” Nina said, “I hope you’re not letting the fact that Alain isn’t exactly the number-one playboy of Paris bother you.”

  “Oh, no! Not at all. In fact ...” Kristy was aware that her cheeks were turning bright red. “I kind of like him. I mean, like, a lot.”

  “Oh, terrific,” Jennifer groaned. “So you’re falling in love with a French boy. That’s all you need, to leave him behind in another few weeks. Which reminds me.”

  She turned her attention to Nina, who had been just about to cut the cake. “How are things with you and Pierre?”

  Nina froze, the plastic knife she was holding poised in midair. “Things are ... wonderful.”

  Jennifer rolled her eyes upward in exasperation. “Oh, boy. So far, that’s two broken hearts out of three. As a group, I’d say that we’re not doing very well.”

  Nina opened her mouth to speak, but then quickly snapped it shut. How could she explain to Jennifer that the feelings she had for Pierre were nothing to joke about? This was serious ... even more serious than she had been willing to admit to herself. She was glad she could turn back to the distraction of cutting the cake and placing generous slices on the flimsy paper plates.

  “Goodness, Jennifer,” Kristy was saying, “what a pessimistic attitude you have. What’s wrong with all of us enjoying what we have right now? Sometimes I get the feeling you’re trying hard not to like Paris.”

  Jennifer shrugged. “I’m just waiting it out, that’s all.”

  “Aren’t you having any fun?” Kristy asked.

  “Well, this is fun. Hanging out with you guys, I

  mean.”

  “What about your host family? You haven’t said very much about them.”

  With a snort, Jennifer said, “Them? They’re just two old people who hardly ever go out. What could possibly be more boring?”

  Nina handed her a piece of cake. “Didn’t you say they invited their granddaughter up to Paris? She lives in Lyon, right?”

  “Yeah. Michèle.” Jennifer shrugged. “She’s okay, I guess. She just tries a little too hard, that’s all. I mean, she’s been taking me all over Paris, and she has shown me some pretty neat things. I don’t know. I guess maybe I’m just one of those people who can’t get excited about anything that’s so far outside her own experience.”

  Nina and Kristy exchanged frustrated looks as Jennifer picked up the present that had been resting next to her on the grass. “And speaking of things that are familiar ... happy birthday! Here, Kristy. This is for you. Open it!”

  Kristy was only too happy to do just that. Inside was a stack of magazines ... all of them American magazines. Wrapped up in colorful birthday paper were the August issue of Elle and several recent issues of People.

  “I searched all over town for these,” Jennifer explained triumphantly, “but it was worth it. A little taste of home, you know? Plus they’ll help you get psyched for going back and starting school in the fall. It’s just a few weeks now until Labor Day!”

  Once again Kristy and Nina exchanged meaningful looks. Nina, it was clear, was totally frustrated with Jennifer’s attitude. But Kristy just laughed.

  “Thanks, Jennifer. This is a terrific present. It’s so ... so you.”

  “Why, thank you!” Jennifer seemed really pleased by the compliment.

  “Now, how about some of that birthday cake?” Kristy said. “It looks fantastic.”

  “Just make sure you save some room for tonight’s dinner,” Nina reminded her. “Don’t forget, those snails and rabbits and all those rich French sauces can be pretty filling.”

  * * * *

  “I know it’s probably not the kind of place you’re used to,” Alain apologized for the tenth time, “but I think you will like this restaurant anyway. The food is quite good, and the atmosphere is fairly quiet.”

  “Oh, Alain, it’s just fine,” Kristy reassured him, also for the tenth time since he had picked her up at her host family’s house earlier that evening to take her out for her birthday dinner. “In fact, this place looks wonderful.”

  It was true that the supposedly “modest” restaurant that Alain had chosen to take her to this evening was, in fact, a cut above the kind of place that Kristy had been expecting. It was called Beauvilliers, and it was located on Montmartre, one of the livelier sections of Paris. Restaurants and cabarets were crammed onto the hill that was topped by Sacre-Coeur, a graceful white church with di
stinctive architecture.

  The restaurant itself was actually made up of several small rooms, the walls painted in rich colors to create an intimate atmosphere. There were huge bouquets of flowers everywhere. And there were so many waiters tending to them that Kristy felt like a queen. Some of them, in fact, treated Alain so well it was almost as if they knew him. There were even snails and rabbit on the menu— although, fortunately for Kristy’s somewhat less adventurous taste, it had chicken and fish as well.

  “This was such a sweet idea,” Kristy commented once she and Alain were seated at a table right near the window, one that afforded them an excellent view of the lovely summer evening sky. “Thank you for inviting me tonight, Alain.”

  “Well, Kristy, I had to ... how do you say, make the large deal about your birthday.”

  Kristy smiled. “I appreciate your ‘making a big deal’ about my birthday. Some of my American friends had a little party for me this afternoon, too. Oh, nothing special, just a picnic. But I feel lucky to have so many people looking after me.”

  “You know, I would love to spend time with your American friends,” Alain said. With a twinkle in his eyes, he added, “Sometimes I get the feeling you are trying to keep me away from them. Perhaps you are a little bit ashamed of your simple French boyfriend?”

  Kristy hesitated. She didn’t know whether to feel excited over the fact that Alain had referred to himself as “her boyfriend” or nervous about his interest in meeting her friends. Not that she was embarrassed by him, of course, not at all. What she was fearful of was that Nina or Jennifer or any of the other kids she knew from Weston High School would spill the beans about her true identity. And given the way she was starting to feel about Alain, that was something she simply could not risk.

  Before she could try to explain that she simply had not yet had a chance to arrange any meetings with her friends, their waiter, who had been eyeing them oddly ever since they had come into the restaurant, came over to their table.