She shook her head. “I was just walking past and I thought I recognized the man in the cowboy hat, that’s all. I was mistaken. Never mind. I hope you have a nice evening.”
“Thank you,” Jake replied. He and Randy stayed where they were, leaving Janet with no choice but to walk away. As she went, she wondered if they were who they’d claimed to be. It seemed entirely possible that they were American spies, maybe working with Edward. She could only hope that neither of them would mention speaking to an odd English woman. While she was tempted to head back to the hotel, eager to learn more about Bobby Armstrong, she continued on her way to the Louvre.
Having seen Edward for herself, she now knew for certain that he was working, even if she had no idea what job he was doing. He’d said that a man’s life was at stake. What had he meant? She was so preoccupied that she barely noticed the Arc de Triomphe as she walked past it. When she reached the Louvre, she stopped at the first ticket window to find out where she was meant to go for the dinner that was scheduled to take place before the tour.
One of the ticket agents insisted on escorting her to the private dining room in a section of the museum that was normally closed to visitors.
“I’m sorry that your husband couldn’t attend,” he told her as he showed her into the small room. “I hope you enjoy your evening,” he added before he bowed and departed.
Another man stood up from the table set for three and greeted Janet. He was one of the museum’s tour guides, and he was quick to pour her a glass of wine. As they ate their way through six courses of delicious food, he told her stories about the museum and the artwork it held. When the meal was finished, he took her around the building, which was now empty of tourists. While she missed Edward, she greatly enjoyed the very special evening. When it was over, the tour guide put her into a taxi that took her back to her hotel.
The younger of Edward’s two colleagues was waiting for her in the hotel’s lobby. He was holding a large bouquet of flowers.
“Edward asked me to give these to you,” he told her, handing her the bouquet.
There were dozens of questions she wanted to ask him, but she wasn’t certain she wanted him to know that she’d seen Edward earlier. “Thank you,” she told him.
“I hope you enjoyed your evening,” he said.
“It was very nice, but it would have been better with Edward’s company,” she replied.
He nodded. “I’ll pass that along to Edward,” he told her. “He misses you terribly.”
“I miss him as well,” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I need to go. I was never here.” He walked out of the room before she could reply.
In her room, Janet looked at the itinerary for the next day. Aside from lunch and dinner bookings, it appeared that she had the day free. No doubt Edward had been expecting them to explore the city together.
I will have to explore on my own, perhaps near building fourteen, she thought as she slid under the covers of the bed that was far too large for just one person. A single tear trickled down her cheek before she fell asleep.
The hotel’s breakfast menu offered several tempting choices. Janet finally opted to order the “American breakfast” of pancakes and bacon. The pancakes came swimming in butter and syrup. Feeling as if she’d had all of her calories for the entire day, she went back to her room to get her handbag before she headed out to explore Paris.
Setting the Arc de Triomphe as her goal, she strolled through the streets, listening to bits of conversation and enjoying the beautiful day. A short while later, she found herself wandering along the same route she’d taken the day before. When the building numbered fourteen came into view, she slowed her steps. “You’re snooping,” she muttered. Which is hardly surprising, under the circumstances, she added silently.
She crossed the road and walked closer to the building. There was nothing at all to see. Sighing, she continued on her way, rounding the corner and walking briskly along the pavement. A few paces in front of her, a door opened and the man she assumed was Bobby Armstrong walked out. His outfit was almost the same as what he’d worn the previous day, although his cowboy hat was brown rather than black today. He turned and took a few steps away from her. Almost immediately, he was stopped by a couple who said something to him in French. Janet wasn’t close enough to hear exactly what they’d said, but she certainly heard the reply.
“I. Don’t. Speak. French,” Bobby said loudly in a Texas drawl.
Janet was close enough now to hear what the other man was saying. “He’s simply admiring your hat,” she told Bobby. “He was wondering where you found it, as cowboy hats aren’t common in Paris.”
Bobby smiled at her. “I got it in Houston,” he said. “I have all of my hats custom-made there. I have a card, wait.” He pulled a wallet out of his pocket.
Janet could only stare at the huge wad of American dollars that were visible in the wallet as the man opened it. He dug a few business cards out of a slot and sorted through them.
“This is the one,” he told Janet, handing her a card. “This is the best hat shop in Texas.”
Janet turned
