Paris Summer (11 page)

“Well, this time you have to accept it. I’ve already
paid for them.”

“At least let me pay for mine,” he said.

“No,” Janine answered firmly. “My treat.”

“Then I’m not using the ticket,” Sandy announced.

Janine looked at Sandy. She felt exasperated, and he
clearly looked as though he would not give in. Janine
sighed. “All right. Here’s your ticket. It was ten francs.”

Silently Sandy handed her a ten-franc note and
silently Janine pocketed it. Both were relieved to
discover that the tour would begin shortly. Neither felt
like speaking as they found seats in the boat.
Unhappily Janine noted the glass roof, she wished the
boat were open with a breeze to blow her hair about.
Reluctantly, she removed the rubber bands from her
hair and rolled down her sleeves. As the boat started,
Sandy slipped his arm around Janine’s shoulders.
“Truce?” he whispered.

Janine nodded and forced a slightly shaky smile.
Sandy grinned in return. “It’s just that we both know
I’ve got loads more money than you so why shouldn’t I
pay?” he asked.

Janine sighed and decided not to worry about it just
then. She concentrated instead on the guide and the
view, and they both were soon relaxed. This was Paris
as she had imagined it-romantic. At least, that is,
until some children spoiled Janine’s reverie by fighting
over a model of the Eiffel Tower. Janine grinned wryly,
ignoring Sandy’s puzzled look.

Later, back on shore, Sandy began discussing
possible restaurants they could go to for dinner.
Instinctively Janine knew these would be expensive restaurants and impulsively she said, “Why not have
dinner at my place? We could stop at the market on the
way back and get the food and some wine.”

Sandy smiled, almost triumphantly, it seemed to
Janine. “Sure, why not? It will give you a chance to
show off your cooking.”

Too late, she realized how it must have sounded to
Sandy. He probably thought she wanted to impress
him with her “wifely” attributes.

At the market, Sandy insisted on paying for the
groceries and selecting the wine. Janine had finally
decided to serve chicken with a dried apricot stuffing; a
simple but impressive dish. With that she could make
potatoes and a dish of sauteed fresh vegetables. Coffee,
of course, was no problem, and Rena had some
Cointreau in a cupboard.

Sandy refused to relinquish his triumphant grin as
he carried the food back to the apartment. Once there,
Sandy sprawled out on the couch and picked up a
magazine to read. He wanted, he indicated, to leave
everything to Janine.

Sunday morning and rainy, Janine thought as she
looked out the window. Well, no time to waste
worrying about it. I’ve got to be out of here before
Sandy calls, she told herself.

Janine grabbed her purse and the umbrella Mark
had sent over as well as the week’s Pariscope. Over a
croissant and coffee she would decide which museum
to visit. Not the Louvre, of course. Sandy might guess
and find her. Janine had no wish to have him along to
spoil things.

She chose a small out-of-the-way cafe for her petit
dejeuner. As she sipped her coffee, Janine found herself
pondering Sandy. Why had he been so persistent this
past week, showing up nearly every day? And why had
he insisted he wanted to spend today in a museum with
her when they both knew he hated museums? If she had
been like Rena, Janine could have understood it. But
she wasn’t. His pseudo-proposal of Wednesday she
simply dismissed. Not even in her inexperience would
Janine have mistaken Sandy’s attitude for love or even
infatuation. She shrugged. Perhaps he was just
amusing himself, adding one more conquest to his list.
Or trying to. All very well, but today Janine needed
some time for herself.

Realizing she still hadn’t settled on a museum,
Janine took out her Pariscope. Ah, the Cluny
Museum. That sounded just like what she wanted. It
was full of tapestries and exhibits from the Middle Ages. Janine checked her watch. There was still time to
visit it this morning, but perhaps it would be better to
go in the afternoon when the museum reopened. Janine
looked through the list again, glancing at addresses this
time. The Delacroix Museum was in the rue Furstenburg, nearby. Her decision made, Janine left the cafe.

The museum was small but uncrowded and had a
pleasant collection of nineteenthcentury landscapes.
The building itself had once been the home of
Delacroix. There was no one to hurry Janine, and she
felt completely relaxed as she studied the paintings.
Now and then someone would comment to her that a
particular painting was nice. Usually she would nod
absent-mindedly and the individual soon drifted away.
By the time she was ready to leave the museum the rain
had stopped. She decided to begin walking toward the
Cluny museum and find a place to eat lunch along the
way.

It was five minutes after two when Janine arrived at
the Cluny Museum. The guard was just opening the
doors. She was still in the first room looking at sheets
of manuscripts when a voice behind her said doubtfully, “Janine?”

Janine turned sharply, wondering who was going to
ruin her day. “Yes? Oh, it’s you, Mark. Hello.”

“I thought I recognized you. Where is your
shadow?” he asked pleasantly.

“What?”

“Sandy.”

“That’s not funny!” Janine retorted.

“I just meant that you and Sandy seem to enjoy
doing things together,” Mark said innocently.

“I happen to enjoy visiting museums alone,” Janine
said pointedly.

Mark nodded and proceeded to ignore the emphasized word. “Have you been here before?” he asked.

“No.”

Amused, Mark watched Janine for several minutes.
Finally he said, “You can’t look at that one display
forever, you know. And since I’ve been here quite
often, why don’t you let me act as a guide? If you find it
too unbearable you can tell me to get lost.”

In spite of herself, Janine grinned sheepishly.
“Okay,” she said.

To Janine’s surprise, Mark was a very good guide.
He was able to point out interesting objects Janine
would probably not have noticed on her own. He was
also patient and able to answer most of her questions
with plausible guesses if not with facts. Grudgingly
Janine began to be glad she had run into him.

He was as impressed as Janine by the set of six
tapestries hung in a round room on the upper floor. A
plaque said that five belonged to a set portraying the
senses, and the sixth was another done in the same style
and commissioned by the same family. Mark and
Janine took turns making guesses as to the original
reasons for the tapestries, who made them, and how the
artist had felt about the woman in the tapestry. Janine
pointed to one that showed a young girl as well as the
woman common to all the tapestries. “The weaver
obviously didn’t like the woman!” she said.

“Why?” Mark asked. “I mean, none of the women
looks very pretty.”

“Yes, but in this one the young girl is pretty, so it isn’t
just that the weaver couldn’t make her look better,”
Janine explained.

“It’s not as bad as this one,” he replied, pointing to
another tapestry.

“Yes, but all the animals look odd.”

Mark started to argue, then changed his mind as he
realized that several people were watching them.
Instead he said, “Perhaps we’d better go on to another
room.

“All right,” said Janine, who had not noticed their
audience.

Mark was more restrained after that, but they
continued to discuss everything that caught Janine’s
eye. He shared her enthusiasm over the medieval
candleholders and joined in speculation over the
probable lack of comfort of mail shirts. When Janine
gasped at what appeared to be blood on a sword, Mark
laughed and explained that it was only an identification number marked in red. For a moment she was
annoyed, then laughed as well. The guard frowned at
them and Mark led Janine to the next room.

They were in the last room when a guard announced
that the museum would close in five minutes. Janine
was surprised to learn that it was so late, but Mark
merely nodded. It was Mark’s turn, however, to be
startled when Janine retrieved Rena’s umbrella from
the coat check desk. Janine felt unaccountably shy. “I
want to thank you for sending over the umbrella. It’s
quite useful and I would have hated to have to buy one
when I’ve got one at home.”

“Yes, well, it is Rena’s and you might as well use it
until she gets back,” Mark said, cutting short her
thanks. “I didn’t even realize it was in my apartment
until you insisted Rena didn’t have an umbrella.
Actually, I didn’t think you’d use it.”

Slightly annoyed and feeling mischievous, Janine said, “I suppose, to be fair to Rena, I ought to slip it
back into your apartment right before she gets back.
Alan tells me that’s what she would do.”

“Never mind what Alan says!” Mark snapped.

“Actually,” Janine continued as if she hadn’t heard,
“there are more possibilities with an umbrella than
without. After all, without one a woman has to wait for
some man to offer to share his. If she has the umbrella
she can look over the men without umbrellas and pick
one to share hers with. She has more choice that way,
don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t know!”

By this time they were outside the museum and
Mark began taking long, angry strides. Amazed at the
strength of Mark’s reaction and not quite sure where he
was headed, Janine stopped walking. She just stood
still watching him continue down the street, both eyes
on the ground. Abruptly he stopped and looked
around with a puzzled expression on his face. Janine
burst out laughing and waited as Mark strode back to
her. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “Why did
you stop?”

“Because I wasn’t sure we were headed in the same
direction,” Janine answered honestly.

“We are,” he said shortly.

“Doesn’t that depend on where you’re headed?” she
asked.

“Yes, but I’m headed to St. Michel where there are
lots of men waiting to be picked up so there’s no
conflict,” he said savagely. For a few seconds his eyes
roamed over Janine, then he added, “I must say you are
dressed for the part in that short skirt!”

Janine gasped, then said tightly, “I’m sorry I teased
you about Rena. It was wrong and I apologize. But there is no reason to be so nasty. We are not going in
the same direction after all. Good day, Monsieur
Renaud!”

Janine turned and started to walk away as quickly as
possible. Mark grabbed her arm and swung her around
to face him. For a moment they glared at each other,
then Mark slowly relaxed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Can
we start over again? Pretend we just came out of the
museum?”

Janine wanted to refuse, but Mark was looking at
her earnestly. He had been obnoxious, but Janine had
to admit that if she were engaged to Rena she would be
oversensitive to such jokes too. Suddenly she felt sorry
for Mark. “All right,” she said, almost managing a
smile.

Mark visibly relaxed further and ran a hand through
his unruly hair. “Where are you headed now?” he
asked.

“I’m not sure,” Janine said. “I thought perhaps I
would go over to the quaff and wander along peering in
bookstalls.”

Mark nodded. “Why don’t we start at St. Michel and
work our way east? There is also a shop with old prints
and maps and things that you might find interesting.”

Janine decided not to point out that she had planned
to spend the day alone. Instead, she shrugged. After all,
Mark probably did know where the most interesting
bookstalls and shops were. If only he weren’t so
autocratic she might learn to like him.

“I’d better warn you,” he said as they walked toward
the quaff, “don’t buy anything until you’ve seen several
bookstalls, especially if I suggest you wait.”

“Why?” Janine demanded. “Don’t you think I’ve got
any common sense?”

“Sure.” Mark grinned. “But I suspect you’re going to
find lots and lots of things you want to buy. You won’t
be able to afford them all and you won’t necessarily see
the best ones first. You can always go back to a stall,
you know.”

Janine had to admit this made sense. Mark did seem
to know the bouquinistes well. He quickly caught on to
the sorts of things Janine liked and when they went into
the shop Mark had mentioned, he immediately
requested exactly the right portfolios. “Are you a
mindreader?” she asked as she opened the first one.

Mark smiled. “No, you’re just rather transparent
when you’re pleased with something. And even more so
when you’re not.”

After a long period of deliberation Janine settled on
a nineteenthcentury hand-colored print and a sheet of
illuminated manuscript. Mark arranged to stop back
and buy an eighteenth-century star map later in the
week. As they were leaving the shop he said, “One of
the nice things about this shop is that it’s open on
Sunday. Very few are.”