by C L Bauer
“I understand completely. Albert, I was here at the Louvre many years ago. I can’t remember the gift shop. I’d like to pick up a few gifts.”
He looked at his watch. There was no text yet. “We have time. Wait until you see the shops on the lower level below the pyramid.”
“Shops in the basement? Now you’re talking. Lead on, Albert.”
The escalators revealed a commercial cavern. There were a variety of shops featuring the usual tourist fare with Mona Lisa tiles and plates, but there were also perfume and soap shops, scarves, brightly colored macarons, and other French delicacies.
“This will do.” Lily smiled. It was time to use her new credit card with the name Lily C. Pierce. “Albert, let’s go shopping.”
Claude Barbin had a doctorate, but so did Lily Schmidt Pierce--in shopping! Four shopping bags later, she had gifts for just about everyone including a lovely gift set of assorted soaps for Albert’s daughter and a small painted pill box for his wife. It was the least she could do. Albert had an employee discount and allowed her to use it. They left their packages at the check-in desk and took the elevator up to the Mona Lisa. Dev was standing there. His smile comforted any fears she had. Besides, as tired as he looked, she had enjoyed the better end of the visit.
“Merci, Lily.” Now she was the recipient of the kiss festival. She returned the favor and slipped her card into his hand.
“You’ll email me photos of the wedding, yes?” She was hugging her new friend. Shopping was indeed a bonding experience all over the world.
“Oui.” He looked down at the card. “I will email you, I see it here on the card. My day was magnifique because of you. We will be friends.”
“Yes. Au revoir.”
“I will see you at the gala. You will meet my wife that night.”
Lily’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Wonderful. I will be so happy to know someone. Thank you so much for today.” They kissed again and her little elfin friend walked away.
“Someone had a good time.” Dev’s arms were crossed in front of his chest as he leaned against a corner wall away from the most famous woman’s portrait in the world. “People just fall in love with you, have you ever noticed that?”
Lily could feel her face warming. Her blush outwardly showed the depth of her lack of confidence at times. “Stop being sweet. I missed you, but I’m not happy with you, well with the situation. She dismissed me.”
He unlocked his arms. “Yes, and I’m so sorry. That was inexcusable and she knows it. She’s going to make it up to you tomorrow afternoon. I have some work to do and she’s taking you shopping. She’s picking up the tab, and you will let her, especially if she takes you to some designer place. The government and I can’t afford that.”
“So she’s attempting to buy me off?” She stood close to his body and his arms took her in.
“Nope, just apologizing for rude behavior.”
“And you, sir, didn’t tell me Claude was a woman.”
“Did that matter?”
“Did that matter?” Lily mimicked her husband. “War zone, you, and a beautiful French woman? You bet it mattered.”
“That was before you.”
She looked up at his face and couldn’t read him. Dog gone. Did they teach them the unreadable face look at agent school?
“So, there was something between the two of you?” She saw him flinch. Really? There really was?
“Friendship. That’s all. She had a boyfriend. She may still have that same boyfriend. I don’t know. We didn’t keep in touch, besides, she was one of the guys back then.”
Lily laughed a little too loud and had several tourists look in her direction. “Sorry. I want to see the painting and then can we go and get some lunch?”
“I know just the place. We can have lunch, fantastic desserts and the best hot chocolate in the world. Besides, you’re going to love the look of the place, belle epoque, just like the set of that musical Gigi. It was good enough for Coco Chanel and Audrey Hepburn. Apparently, they used to go there.”
She pulled Dev down to her lips and kissed him on the cheek. “You always know the best places.”
They said their hellos and goodbyes to “Lisa” and headed toward the exit. “Oh, wait, I have to pick up my bags.”
Dev eyed her suspiciously as she went to the desk and retrieved four large shopping bags.
“You convinced the man to take you shopping?”
She raised the bags proudly in the air. “Shopping is an international sport and I play it very well. Used my new credit card too.”
Dev followed behind as she walked proudly out the private museum exit. “Would that be my credit card?’
“Ours, honey. Is this place close? I’d like to drop the bags off at the hotel.”
He caught up to her and grabbed two of the items. “Yes, hotel first and then Angelina’s is just down off the Champs Élysées.” He glanced at her face. She was glowing; shopping was a good look on her.
“Oh, can we ride the carousel? Not now, but maybe tomorrow?” Lily’s smile was as wide as her frown had been when she had encountered Claude.
“Yes, honey. We can do everything and anything you want.”
“No on the ferris wheel. Those make me lose my food.” She kept walking quickly toward the hotel’s large ornate doors.
“Yes, dear. No on the ferris wheel, yes on the carousel. Got it.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The sun was rising when Lily felt cold. Dev’s usual body heat was enough to warm her. She reached over and felt cool sheets; she turned over and saw an empty pillow. She sat straight up and saw his figure sitting by the window.
“Dev? Everything alright?”
He turned and flashed his trademark smile. “Honestly, I don’t know. My mom used to say some weird feelings were like someone walking over your grave. I’m finding that feeling resonates here in Paris. The shadows bother me.”
Lily reached out to entice him back to bed. He slowly walked over and sat on the side of the bed, holding her hand. “Is that why you were acting so unusual last night when we walked back from dinner?”
She could tell he was surprised she’d noticed. “Yes. Some intel Claude showed me yesterday bothered me and honestly, well I should come clean, we are being followed.”
Lily should be concerned, but as Abby had said a few times, danger was becoming her constant companion. At least he’d finally told her the truth. “So what do we need to do?”
Dev grinned. “We don’t need to do anything. I need to make some calls. You’re still going with Claude today and I can get some things straightened out. She’s going to make sure you have security so I don’t have to worry. I need to reach out to an agent I know. Tonight, we’re having dinner with her. She’s bringing one of her benefactors.”
“A double date in Paris? I never thought of that one,” she quipped. “Do I have to go with her today? I don’t think she likes me.”
“What’s not to like? You charm everyone you meet, well at least the little guy yesterday, and what about the bartender downstairs? What was his name?”
“You know perfectly well it was Louis. He said I was cute.”
“Right, cute. I remember Louis. He said he was originally from Chartre.”
“He is very nice, but I’m not so sure about Claude.”
“She’s just guarded.”
Lily frowned. “She’s French, I mean she is the definition of a French woman. You go to the dictionary and her photo is there. She’s skinny, wears heels Gretchen would kill for, she dresses like she took the outfit off a Chanel model, and she has that Bardot pout down to a science.”
Dev could see all his wife’s insecurities rising to the top of her discomfort meter. “The pout is overrated. Give me cute and frizzy anyday.” He brushed his hand through her soft curls.
“You are a dork. No one knows it do they?”
He laughed. “A few people, and now you do. Have fun with Claude today. She will pay for any outfit
that works so have a good time. It will be your Cinderella day.”
“I already had that day a few months ago.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Are you coming back to bed?”
“Nope. I’m going for a run.” He pulled away from her and headed off to change.
“You’re a dork and a crazy person. I will never understand going for a run in Paris, on your honeymoon.” Her muttering continued as she returned to her pillow. She fell quickly back to sleep to dream of freshly baked croissants, not skinny French women.
While his wife slept, Dev ran to the small garden of the Grand Palais. Claude was waiting. She looked every bit the spy with a black trench coat cinched tightly around her slender waist. She was wearing a headscarf and high heeled black leather boots. Lily was right, she did look like the definition of a French woman. She was only missing a long cigarette holder.
“Well, are we still on for tonight?” He sat beside her on the bench.
“Yes. It should be interesting. You are sure they have never met?”
“As far as I know. She’s not certain about today with you. Lily is very secure when it comes to her business, but her self confidence could use a bolster. Please.”
Claude was suspicious as she eyed him closely. “You really love her beyond reason, don’t you? I never thought that you would be felled by a normal girl.”
Dev shot a cold glance at his friend. “Don’t underestimate her. The day I did I realized I’d made a huge mistake. And there’s nothing normal about her.”
Claude giggled.
“I didn’t mean it that way. She’s special; she’s amazing. Please play nice. I know you can.”
Her pout appeared. “I always play nice.”
“That depends on your definition of nice. Your skills in hand-to-hand combat are nice to watch, not so nice to receive.”
She nodded. That had been a few years now. She was older, slower, but she could still hold her own. “I will play nice with your little wifey. Oh, and you have complete access to my office today. Henri, my assistant, will meet you there as will Remy.”
“You’ll drop Lily off at the hotel when you both are finished?”
“Mais oui.”
Dev stood up. “You know I told you I thought I saw him the other day on the plane? Last night, I was sure I saw him following us. We had dinner at that restaurant you recommended, and as we were walking back to the hotel, I saw him. My eyes were not deceiving me. I thought he was dead.”
“No terrorist is ever dead unless you do the job yourself. Look at all the rumors about Bin Laden.”
“Then I need to add a job to my bucket list. I won’t live my life looking over my shoulder. I’ll talk to Remy about Khalid, and I need to get in touch with an FBI agent over here.”
Claude joined him and patted his arm. “My dear frere, the past is always behind us. You have now said Khalid’s name, and so he is real and most definitely alive. I have a feeling the agent you need is seeking you. He will be at the museum around noon. He and I have been in contact. I will pick up Lily after breakfast. Au revoir. Oh, you will be able to see the tulip. It has just arrived. If Khalid is following you, then he knows about the tulip. I hope he takes the bait. If not all of this will have been for nothing.”
“But, at the very least, you’ll have a beloved artifact on display for all to see, and you will have saved it from destruction.”
Claude shrugged. “To save an artifact, I tire from whom I must work with and what I must do. I can not do it alone anymore.”
Dev grimaced. Claude’s admission was surprising. Who else was working in this endeavor? He didn’t like being out of the loop, but this wasn’t his operation. So the FBI agent was here. That figured. Maybe he was working with her. “By the way, have you arranged the security for Lily?”
“Oui. She will meet him today. He is very good.”
“I’m trusting you with the woman I love,” Dev stated plainly.
Claude shook her head. “Oh my, you are besotted. I would never have believed it would ever happen to you, my friend.”
Dev swore Claude walked into a fabricated fog, the mist of a 1960’s spy flick with all it’s dark danger and uttered cryptic messages. Though he did know what she was talking about. She disappeared across the gardens. Where was that fog machine?
Lily was on her second cup of coffee in the lobby of the hotel by the time Claude arrived. Her heels were high, her clothes were chic and her face was void of any emotion. On the other hand, the simple girl from the Midwest was hyped on caffeine with a side of nervous energy. “You just missed Dev. He’s working in your office today? Wow, it’s lovely outside. How do you walk in those heels? They are amazing, but I’d fall over in them. Do you ever get stuck in street grates? My mother did once. Did you grow up in Paris? It is so amazing.”
Claude lowered her sunglasses to her nose to peer at Lily. “Yes, yes, very well, sorry, no, really, yes and I suppose so. You say amazing quite a bit.”
Lily tried to stand up a little straighter. Shoulders back, Lily. Pretend you are Gretchen, the irritating Gretchen. You can do this, Lily. Take this one for the team and for Dev. “Yes, when I’m on my honeymoon in Paris I suppose I do say amazing quite a bit, because it is.”
“The taxi is waiting.” Claude turned and walked right back out the door. Lily followed quickly looking more like Quasimodo behind Esmeralda. Dev was going to owe her, but it was an opportunity to drive through the city with a Parisian.
But the Parisian didn’t talk. Claude looked down at her phone the entire time, texting a little now and then, but Lily enjoyed the ride. Eventually the taxi stopped and the women retreated into their first shopping venue. They proceeded up one floor.
“I love the clothing here. They use the best fabrics. We should be able to find you something.” Claude looked her up and down. Then she frowned. Crud. Could she be more disdainful? She was Dev’s friend? How could he? Of course, war did things to people. It must’ve made him lose all perspective.
Claude began to search through the racks of dresses. Lily was right behind her, touching this fabric and amazed at the dazzle on some of the gowns.
“I usually only wear black. I’m a florist, so it’s great to wear something that won’t show the dirt.”
“Hmm.” Claude continued to search through the dresses. She was listening to Lily, but concentrating on her mission. As soon as she completed this task, she could return to her office and meet up with the men. She was worried about Devlin Pierce. She knew he was suspicious, way too suspicious. He never was one for just believing what he was told. She understood his professional persona, but she was having a hard time understanding his personal preferences, such as what did Devlin see in his wife? Lily was nothing spectacular; she was a normal American woman complete with self-doubts, plain hair, and ample hips. What did Lily just say?
“I have a nice dress with me that I’m sure would work,” she suggested. Claude hadn’t acknowledged anything she was saying. The woman wasn’t exactly rude, but there was no way they were going to be besties. Lily smiled. She could use Gretchen right now; she might devour Claude in one bite!
Claude pulled one deep green dress off the rack, lifting it to Lily’s body. She shook her head negatively. “No, this will not work. The color is good, but the cut on your body will not do.”
Lily was already finished with this girlfriends-go-shopping episode and it had been less than an hour into the adventure. “I said I had a dress.”
Claude made a noise similar to a Gretchen cluck. “It won’t be good enough,” she answered blandly. “This is a benefactor’s gala and we are introducing a piece of pottery from the Ottoman Empire. Your American clothing will not do.”
“Wow, you don’t sugarcoat it, do you?” Lily’s exasperation sounded like annoyance and she was fine with that. “Next, you’ll be telling me you can’t find my size.”
The French woman was feeling a fabric. “It will be difficult.”
Lily threw up her hands. Sh
e’d dealt with difficult women in her life, but this one was the abject epitome of a stereotypical European snob. “That’s it. I’m done. I won’t stay here and be treated like the ugly stepsister. I can do nicely on my own. Goodbye.” Lily turned to the chair where she’d placed her purse. She grabbed it and turned to leave.
Claude grimaced. Dev would not be pleased if his little wife dissolved into tears. “No, no cherie. I meant no disrespect. Please sit. I don’t want you to cry.”
Lily turned and sat down. She crossed her arms, a barrier against this snob. “I’m not crying. No tears here.” Lily knew enough French to hail a taxi and get back to the hotel, at least she hoped she did. Wait, there was the man at the door downstairs. He could get her a ride. She had a plan of escape. She’d explain to Dev that Mata Hari would never be her friend. He’d understand, afterall, he was the one working on their honeymoon. The cards were all stacked in her favor.
“Lily, Americans are larger,” Claude said as she sat across from her in the other chair. “Your lifestyle is different. Please, take no offense. We walk every day, you go to the gym. We purchase our food daily, you stock up at the grocery or, oh yes, Walmart. We have slender builds, you are perhaps from Germanic heritage so you have hips, curves. Our designers are being pushed to produce fashions for plus sizes. They’ve been ridiculed and shamed for their adolescent starving models who are less than a size zero. An American size ten is a large woman here in Paris.”
Lily’s head dropped in shame. She looked up to see a softening of the French face. Was there a faint smile or did she just have something in here mouth? Probably not. The woman didn’t look like she ever ate. “Are you kidding me? I’m doomed. Just when I’m beginning to feel pretty good about myself, you tell me I can be a plus size model. I can’t do this. Dev can go to the gala and I’ll stay at the hotel and stare at the Eiffel Tower. I’m very fond of doing that.” She suddenly rose from the chair.
Claude stood too, but reached out for Lily’s hands to hold in her own. She could hear the pain in the woman’s voice, not knowing if it truly was about weight or the uncomfortable predicament Dev and she had placed her in by default. “You are going with your husband. We are leaving and we will find a little café with plenty of wine, maybe a bottle of champagne. Shopping is always better after I’ve had champagne.”
