“Ouch, you’re hurting my brain… Please don’t go all Tao on me,” Naomi said and cupped her right hand around her ear. “Wait…what? I think Confucius is telling me I need another drink. How about you?”
“Don’t play dumb. I know you know Taoism and Confucianism aren’t the same. But whoever whispered in your ear was right! You go get us a refill, and I’ll watch our bags.”
When Naomi came back with two more flutes of champagne and another plate of finger food to share, she said in a mock-serious voice, “Okay, spill it. Where is this Yin/Yang shit coming from?”
When Stella didn’t answer, Naomi waved a finger in front of her eyes. Left, right, left, right. It was an annoying newer habit. “Are you overthinking things again? Are you clinging to the past again? Didn’t I tell you to let go and have fun?”
“I can’t change who I am. And take your finger out of my face. I’ll always be more serious than you are, but it doesn’t mean I can’t have fun. Fun for me is reading a great book or discussing something I discovered in the archives at work.”
“Oh, boy… The last book I read front to back was in college. Why spend weeks with a book when the story can be told in a two-hour movie? And if I don’t like the movie, I’ll press the stop button.” Naomi pushed an imagined button in front of her.
“Don’t pretend to be so shallow. I know you’re not. It’s fine with me if you prefer to watch movies and would rather read travel magazines and archaeology reports in The New Yorker or National Geographic.” She leaned closer. “I also know you’re fine-combing through those magazines trying to find Rev’s name. It’s all about motivation. And, like all of us, you’re afraid to get your feelings hurt.”
“Was your last bedside reading a book about analyzing your friends? It sounds to me as if you really need a break. And of course, for someone to whisk you far away from memories of the Troubadour.” Naomi even had the nerve to hold her hand in front of her face exactly the way David did three years ago.
Stella laughed. “You’re terrible. I wish I could find out what he thinks of your nickname for him.”
CHAPTER 7
Stella—July 2018
“I
’m sorry, Miss Winters, but your room is not ready yet. The guests before you couldn’t vacate the room at checkout time.” Pierre, the twenty-something front desk employee, looked from Naomi to Stella and back again.
“May I offer you something to drink in our courtyard while you wait? Your luggage will be safe in the storage room and will be taken to your room as soon as housekeeping has finished cleaning.” He printed two vouchers and handed them to Naomi with an apologetic smile.
“Please let us know when they’re done,” Naomi muttered.
Stella could see Naomi wasn’t happy, but it wasn’t the man’s fault, so she said, “Thanks for helping us, Pierre.”
“Are you coming, Stella?” Naomi was already halfway to tall glass doors opposite the check-in desk.
Outside, Stella counted six small groupings of bistro tables under huge yellow umbrellas, and three outdoor sectionals with colorful cushions tossed into the corners. There were no other guests, and she was surprised how quiet it was. The only sounds were of a small backyard water fountain and the muffled traffic on the other side of the tall buildings.
“Look at those palm trees!” She couldn’t believe it. “In Paris? I think I’ll have breakfast, lunch, and dinner here.”
As soon as they plopped down in one of the sectionals, a waiter came to take their order.
“Just a coffee, please,” Stella said.
“Two cafés crème, please,” Naomi clarified. After the waiter left, she explained, “You have to ask for café crème or café Americano, otherwise you’ll get an espresso in a cup no larger than a thimble, but so strong you won’t sleep for the next eight days.”
When Pierre informed them their room was ready twenty minutes later, Naomi jumped up, but Stella was reluctant to leave. It was just too peaceful, and she was tired. She didn’t get much sleep on the plane. Between reading, the anticipation of their trip, and the ever-present humming of the airplane, she barely managed a couple of hours of shut-eye.
Their room was on the top floor. A low wall separating two double beds almost gave it the illusion of two bedrooms. There was also a sitting area with two deep chairs, a coffee table, and a small but luxurious bathroom.
She opened a glass door and saw the narrowest balcony she had ever seen, no more than two feet wide, but easily eight feet long. Two chairs and a rickety table were squeezed onto it.
“I changed my mind,” Stella said. “You’ll find me on this balcony in the mornings with coffee and a croissant, and in the courtyard the rest of the day, until it’s time to have a glass of wine on our balcony in the evening. Over the rooftops of Paris, just like in a movie.”
“Not happening. We’re here to see something, not to hide from the world. Let’s take turns in the bathroom, freshen up, and let the fun begin.”
“I read in The New York Times not long ago that part of the joy of exploring Paris is getting lost and wandering about. I’m not so sure I agree,” Stella unzipped her suitcase and opted for shorts, a sleeveless blouse, and slip-on canvas shoes for their afternoon excursion.
“Where’s your adventurous spirit? But I think we’re going to be fine. You can’t take the girl scout out of this lady.” Naomi thumbed her own chest.
“Which is exactly what I’m afraid of. I remember you got lost more than once on hikes and field trips in school!”
Naomi pulled up a map
