Paris Summer (5 page)

Janine felt much better after a leisurely bath. As she
used the blow dryer on her hair, she even began to
wonder if perhaps she had been too defensive with
Mark. Perhaps she had read too much into what he had
said. At any rate, she would seriously try to get along
with him this evening. He was obviously good for
Rena. He seemed to honestly care about her and was
unlikely to suddenly drop her as many of her recent
boy friends had done. Yes, upon reflection Janine
certainly did approve of Mark for her sister, and he was
the only one she had approved of since Alex. By the
time Rena came in to dress for dinner, Janine was
feeling quite charitable toward Mark.

“What do you think of him?” Rena demanded.

“I’m glad you found him,” Janine answered
sincerely. “Oh, we rub each other the wrong way, but I do think he’s right for you. What should we wear for
dinner?” she added with some concern.

“Skirts, but nothing dressy,” Rena replied immediately.

When Janine presented for inspection a sleeveless
print dress with a blouse as a jacket, Rena nodded
enthusiastically. Janine had bought it just for the trip,
splurging for once. She had finished buttoning the last
button when she turned and saw Rena. Dismay flashed
through her. Nothing dressy, Rena had said, but she
was wearing a short red dress that looked as if it were
meant for a discotheque. Something must have shown
on her face because Rena immediately said anxiously,
“Don’t be angry, Jenny. I just want to show Mark I’m,
well, that I don’t really have competition. I don’t want
him getting too complacent.”

Janine shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

She was rather listless as she put on her makeup, and
Rena was ready long before Janine. Mark looked up as
she came into the living room. He glanced quickly from
Rena to Janine but said nothing. “I’m finally ready,”
she said lightly.

As they walked to St. Michel, Janine said very little
while Rena chattered on. Mark occasionally tried to
draw Janine into the conversation but Rena would,
just as dextrously, bring it back to a tete-a-tete with
Mark. They took a route that went past the market and
down narrow streets, finally emerging at Boulevard St.
Michel. Across the boulevard was a section of short,
intersecting streets. Mark explained that this was a
very popular place for young tourists. It was not
crowded because it was still somewhat early for dinner
by French standards-only seven o’clock. The Vietnamese restaurant was completely deserted except for the staff. It was clearly a family business. Mark ordered
in French, then explained, “I hope you don’t mind,
Janine. I thought we’d order four dishes and share
them. That way we each get much more variety.”

Janine smiled. “Sure. Why not?”

He paused, then said, “They’ll give us chopsticks, of
course, but I can ask for regular silverware for you if
you’d like.”

“Not on your life!” she retorted. “One of the things I
enjoy about Oriental food is getting to eat with
chopsticks.”

Mark grinned, obviously relieved. “By the way, I
hear I have your approval.”

“Oh, yes,” Janine responded gaily. “In the words of
our mother, you aren’t nearly as bad for Rena as the
last man…whoever he was.”

Mark laughed. “Yes, I gathered your mother might
be a problem. So will mine, but fortunately there isn’t
anything they can do about it.”

“Oh, Mark,” Rena protested. “Once we’re married
Mom will accept you right away.”

“True,” Janine agreed. “Mom doesn’t fight a fait
accompli.”

“Yes, well, that’s some time off yet,” Mark said
quietly. “By the way, Janine, perhaps you should wear
that outfit the next time you see Sandy. He prefers
women to wear skirts instead of pants.”

“You seem to know a great deal about Sandy,”
Janine retorted impatiently, “but quite frankly I do not
care to discuss him with you. Nor do I care what his
preferences are. I have just met Sandy and I am not at
all convinced I will ever see him again.”

“Oh, Jenny!” Rena said in exasperation.

Before Rena could say anything more, the soup arrived. After a short silence, Rena began to chatter
again. She and Mark more or less ignored Janine, who
was just as glad to be left alone. The food was delicious
and she concentrated on eating. Eventually she began
to relax. Noting this, Mark hazarded, “Save room for
dessert, Janine.”

She smiled. “That’s right. You did say something
about Tunisian pastry.”

Rena looked down at herself ruefully. “I shouldn’t
even eat all this, much less pastry. I’ll gain weight.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to force you,” Janine
responded teasingly. “I’m sure Mark won’t mind if you
stick to plain rice.”

“I’m surprised you’re eating so much, Janine,” Mark
said frankly. “You look as if you must stay on a rather
strict diet.”

“Oh, Jenny never has to worry about her weight,”
Rena said petulantly.

“Not true!” Janine said sharply. “Actually I have
trouble gaining weight, and it’s just as bad to be gawky
and underweight as it is to be overweight.”

“I recommend you do a serious study of Parisian
patisseries” Mark said solemnly. “That should take
care of your problem, Janine. And Rena, I think she’s
right boiled rice and tea for you.”

Janine giggled and after a moment Rena joined her.
Mark drew his eyebrows together. “Giggling? I
absolutely forbid giggling. I demand proper decorum
from ladies I escort to dinner!”

Her eyes wet with laughter, Janine managed to
choke out, “Yes, sir. Proper decorum. Certainly, sir.”

Mark shook his head. “Hopeless.” Then to the
waiter he said, “C’est tout. L’addition, s’ii vousplait.”

He was laughing himself by the time they stepped out of the restaurant. He spoke quite affably. “I don’t
know about you two, but I’m not ready for pastry yet.
Rena, would you mind if we went over to Shakespeare
first? I want to see if George has this one book I’m
interested in.”

“All right,” Rena said resignedly.

The bookstore, Shakespeare and Company, was
only a couple of blocks away. “A fascinating place!”
Mark had said, and Janine found herself agreeing. The
shop looked totally disorganized-books ranging from
rare old first-editions to the latest paperbacks were
stacked without much regard to subject matter. People
sat or stood reading around the store. At the back was a
stairway marked “private.” Many of the old books had
lovely engravings and tooled bindings, and most were
expensive. But Janine discovered two nineteenthcentury editions with engravings that she could afford.
Happily she presented them to the man at the desk.

“Nineteen francs,” he said. “My, the little lady has
found a couple of bargains.”

“They’re beautiful books,” she said.

The man eyed her thoughtfully for a moment, then
said, “Have you been upstairs yet? If not, look around.
There are lots more books up there…my own
personal library, not for sale.”

Janine smiled and thanked him. Rena was fingering
a paperback, and Mark was nowhere in sight. She
hurried up the narrow stairs, almost tripping over a cat
who was sleeping there. Someone caught her arm.
With surprise, Janine realized it was Mark. “What are
you doing up here?” he demanded.

“The man at the desk suggested I might want to look around up here. Look what I bought,” Janine said,
showing him the books.

“I gather you like old books,” Mark said.

“Yes. My mother had a few from the eighteen
hundreds and I used to love reading them. Now I
intend to start a collection of my own.”

“Sometime I’ll show you mine, if you’d like,” Mark
offered.

“Oh, that reminds me. Did you find the book you
wanted?” Janine asked.

Mark answered ruefully, “Yes, but George still
doesn’t want to sell it.”

Just then, from the foot of the stairs, Rena
demanded, “Are we going to be here all night?”

“Coming!” Janine answered. “Look what I found.”

Rena glanced at the books and shrugged. “Fairy
tales? And something in French? If you wanted
something to read I could have given you something
more exciting than those.”

“You don’t understand. I’m starting a collection of
old books.”

Rena stared at her sister in astonishment. “You
mean you’re going to drag them back to the States,
Jenny? You must be crazy!”

Mark winked at Janine over Rena’s head. “Some of
us are just eccentric, honey,” he said. “Now let’s go get
the pastry I promised you.”

With one arm around each girl, Mark firmly led
them out of the shop, calling to the man at the desk,
“‘Bye, George. I’ll probably be back next week.”

The streets were crowded now and noisy. Most of
the people were tourists, Janine thought, judging from all the languages she overheard. “People often come
here hoping to run into old friends,” Mark explained.
“It’s fun. And there are lots of movie theaters, usually
showing the latest movies.”

Mark halted in front of a shop whose window was
piled high with various kinds of cookies and other
sweets. “What would you like?” he asked.

“Baklava!” Rena said immediately.

Janine hesitated. “Beignet?” Mark suggested.

She noticed the huge doughnuts for the first time
and smiled and nodded. Mark disappeared into the
shop and returned with the sticky, sweet pastry for
Rena, the sugared beignet for Janine, and a powdered
crescent for himself. “Careful, it’s still quite hot,” he
warned Janine.

It was beginning to be a little chilly, and Janine was
glad for the hot, sweet beignet, which was lighter and
more doughy than an American doughnut. They
wandered slowly back along the sidestreets until they
reached seventeen rue Bonaparte. In the courtyard
Rena found her keys and handed them to Janine. “Go
on up, Jenny. I’ll follow in a few minutes,” she said.

Janine nodded and turned to Mark. “It was a nice
evening. Thank you. And I’m sorry I was so touchy
earlier.”

He smiled. “I enjoyed the evening too.”

Janine hurried up the stairs happily, barely noticing
the five flights. Humming, she got into a nightgown
and settled down to read one of her new books until
Rena came up.

Janine had finished the first fairy tale and was
getting sleepy when Rena finally knocked at the door.
“You see,” Rena said, “Mark isn’t so bad after all. Oh dear, it’s almost midnight! Listen, you go ahead to
sleep, Jenny. I’ve got to work on that article some
more. We can talk in the morning.”

Janine agreed and soon fell asleep to the sound of
typewriter keys clicking.

It was already late morning when Rena and Janine
left the apartment to have their petit dejeuner. “I hope
you don’t mind,” Rena said, “but I’d like to stop at a
quieter cafe today.”

“Fine,” Janine said. “Where is the Marche aux
Puces, by the way?”

“North of the city at the end of one of the Metro
lines. In fact, at the end of the line that stops at St.
Germain des Pres.”

“I thought the flea market was only on Sunday,”
Janine said.

Rena smiled. “A common mistake tourists make.
And that’s why we’re going today. The flea market is
open Saturday, Sunday, and Monday, but it’s
hopelessly crowded on Sunday. Not that it will be
empty today, but at least it will be a little easier to look
around. The only drawback is that a few of the shops
will be closed. It’s the sort of place you’d expect. You
can find everything from old clothes to cheap souvenirs
to antiques. Part of the market is clearly aimed at
gullible tourists, but if you have some common sense
it’s fun. Oh, be prepared to do a lot of walking-the
place is huge!”

As Rena had predicted, the Marche aux Puces was
very crowded. To Janine’s annoyance, Rena quickly
disappeared after saying, “Look around. I’ll meet you
back here at the bridge at three o’clock.”

The afternoon was spoiled further for Janine by the
amount of attention she drew, attention that seemed
inexplicable to her until she finally decided that it must
be because she was alone. Perhaps Frenchmen
assumed any woman alone in such a place was looking
for male companionship. By three o’clock, Janine had
learned all the various ways Frenchmen might try to
attract the attention of a woman. Only a few went so far
as to actually try to begin a conversation. Since a large
number of Frenchmen spoke English, it was not
sufficient to pretend one did not speak French. Janine
finally took refuge in pretending to be Finnish. A
greeting in Finnish daunted even the most persistent
male. Nevertheless, Janine greeted Rena with relief
when she appeared at three-thirty, a half hour late.

“Find anything?” Rena asked.

“No,” Janine answered stonily. “I gather you did,
though. You know, Rena, I wish you hadn’t disappeared like that. It was a bit awkward being by myself.”

“Men?” Rena asked shrewdly. When Janine
nodded, she laughed. “They don’t mean any harm.
Actually, I find the attention flattering. Anyway, look
what I found.”