“The antiques were pricey,” the husband in front of me drawled in a midwestern accent. “I can’t believe how much you paid for that clock.”
“It’s worth it,” his wife retorted. “I would have paid more if I bought it back home. It’s too bad that tea shop with the blue butterfly on the sign wasn’t open. I loved the design. We might have found a teapot for Sue.”
My aunt’s tea shop was closed, but people were already paying attention.
He lowered his voice. “The tour director mentioned it was a Chinese triad front.”
My hands curled into fists. Ignorant lies. I dealt with this kind of ignorance and racism back home, but somehow didn’t expect it here.
“Excuse me,” I said, “but whomever you’re getting your information from is wrong.”
A deep flush crept from his neck to his face. His wife placed her hand on his arm and turned to me. “I’m sorry, dear. It’s what the director told us. We’ll talk to him.”
“Thank you, I’d appreciate that.” I kept my voice even, but my hands didn’t uncurl until I reached the counter.
Eleven
As we dined at a nearby Italian bistro, I recounted the incident at the post office to my aunt.
She twirled her fork into her cacio e pepe. “We deal with this all the time, Vanessa. Sadly, it’s everywhere. We will be fine. No one can deny what we have to offer. My shipments have arrived, and I’m on schedule.”
I was more upset about the exchange than she. Aunt Evelyn was from the previous generation: they bore the societal injustices of misogyny and racism. But they raised their daughters to not accept the world’s limitations. They fought for us and taught us to fight. These were women I wanted to be. As a pack, my aunties could conquer a small country.
“I heard from Michael,” my aunt continued, placing a considerable heap of her pasta onto my plate, while plucking two slices off my arugula and prosciutto thin-crust pizza. “He hopes to visit within the next couple of weeks. Your mother also called. You missed your twelve-hour check-in.”
Absorbed in my walk with Marc, I had missed the buzz of my phone. Ma would appreciate my spending time with him rather than taking her call and killing the mood. I’d return her call after dinner.
“Where are you headed tomorrow?” my aunt asked.
“Marc mentioned Versailles. Monet’s garden at Giverny the day after.”
My aunt opened her mouth, but I stopped her.
“I don’t want any spoilers, Auntie.”
She winked, and pressed her finger against her lips.
“Today was fun, but I can’t get too excited. It can’t mean anything. A prophecy will eventually ambush me and that will be the end.”
Wanting something I couldn’t have was a form of self-torture—one I had inflicted for years.
“There isn’t anything wrong with knowing that something will expire. It focuses you: treasure the time you have together.” She paused and then changed subjects. “What do you think of the pasta?”
Cacio e pepe contains three main ingredients: noodles, cheese, and pepper. The chef’s execution elevated the elements into a delicious blend of cheeses (in this case, pecorino and Grana Padano) with a spicy bite from the cracked peppercorns. The tagliolini was made fresh in the kitchen.
“As amazing as the pizza,” I replied.
Aunt Evelyn nodded.
The arugula and prosciutto pizza had a simple yet tasty tomato sauce as the first layer on the crispy crust. Strips of translucent Italian ham interlaced with a pile of rocket greens on top. My aunt and I agreed to douse it with the provided house blend of chili oil.
“The food has been a revelation,” I said, “and I’ve only been here for two and a half days.”
“Yes.” My aunt sipped her glass of Casavecchia. “Paris has its charms: the food, the sights, the people. Anyone can imagine themselves living here.”
The way she spoke, I felt she was talking about herself. Aunt Evelyn was selling her home in San Francisco. The rest of the family couldn’t have known, otherwise the pageantry and procession at the airport would have been bigger.
“I couldn’t live here,” I said. “It’s beautiful, but our family is back home. I’d miss too many things about California, like the convenience of driving my car.”
“You’re already tired from walking?” Aunt Evelyn asked.
My feet were sore, but not painful after a day out sightseeing. However, switching to more comfortable flats for the next two days would be best.
“Not quite,” I admitted with a laugh.
“As long as the company is good,” my aunt said with a smile, “I’m sure your feet will feel fine.”
After dinner, I called Ma and asked if she knew that Aunt Evelyn was selling her house. The gasp from the phone indicated she didn’t. She promised to use the auntie network to find out more details, before reminding me to call the next day.
Deep sleep enveloped me as I dreamed. A scarf. A chase. Lovers in an embrace.
* * *
* * *
Marc was waiting for me at the top of the stairs leading down to Rue du Bac Station. He wore a tan leather jacket, dark denim, and the same messenger bag from yesterday. I didn’t think it possible, but he appeared even more handsome.
His eyes brightened when he saw me, followed by that dazzling smile.
“Are you ready for today’s adventure?” he asked.
“Yes.”
His phone beeped. He ignored it. The beeping persisted until it escalated into rings. He sighed and checked the screen.
“Work?” I asked. “It’s okay, you can take the call.”
Marc rolled his eyes while the ringtone trilled on. “Yes, it’s work. I’m sorry. Please excuse me.”
Brief pauses in the ensuing conversation were interrupted with rapid French.
I’d been hoping to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t understand any of it. Judging by his tone and body language, I could see that whatever was happening at work was stressful. I ruled out a few more careers in my list of his possible vocations.
Marc hung up three minutes later. “I’m really sorry. I told them not to call again.”
“It’s all right. I understand.”
He tilted his head and admired my cap-sleeved dress. “You certainly dressed for the palace. You’re the embodiment of spring.”
I twirled in one of the new items I had picked up while shopping with my aunt. The movement of the knee-length skirt highlighted the colorful butterfly appliqués pressed against a sheer lace overlay. The garment was a decadent, romantic confection of embroidery. Aunt Evelyn suggested the outfit this morning because of Marc’s plans for the day.