Lost in Paris Elizabeth Thompson (romantic story to read .TXT) đ
- Author: Elizabeth Thompson
Book online «Lost in Paris Elizabeth Thompson (romantic story to read .TXT) đ». Author Elizabeth Thompson
The plan is this: Emma will come along with me on the tour, Tallulah will help Aiden set up dinner, and Marla will stay back at the office, answering the phone and fending off any reporters who come sniffing around for the scoop on the manuscript.
âBonjour et bienvenu!â I say to the twenty-one people crowded onto the sidewalk in front of the Heart to Heart Tours office.
âHello and welcome to the inaugural run of the brand-new Les AnnĂ©es Folles tour. I am so honored that you have decided to join us on this adventure. There is one slight change to the schedule. I have a surprise for you that we didnât advertise. Since youâre our very first group, Heart to Heart and the Les AnnĂ©es Folles tour is treating you to dinner tonight on the Champ de Mars, near the Eiffel Tower. Weâre calling the dinner our moveable feast. You are in for a real treat.â
Sounds of delight ripple through the crowd.
After we ask about food allergies, I get into character and reintroduce myself as Ivy. We set out on foot for our first destination: Gertrude Steinâs home at 27 rue de Fleurus.
Iâm curious to meet Venus D. Milo. As we walk, I have everyone introduce themselves.
Before Ms. Milo takes her turn, I get an urgent text from Marla.
SOS! SOS! I think Venus D. Milo might be the reporter who called this morning. I was processing the credit cards and found out her real name is Desirae Montpellier.
I quickly type a text to Emma, asking her if she can handle Desirae. I canât carry on knowing someone in my group is snooping on me, but I donât want to embarrass Desirae by calling her out, especially if sheâs a potential press contact.
After Desirae introduces herself as Venus Milo, Emma quietly takes her aside and speaks with her. While theyâre talking, Iâm nervous that Desirae might make a scene or start asking questions about the manuscript in front of the other guests. But when they return, theyâre both smiling.
A moment later, I get a text from Emma.
No problem. I made a deal with her. If she writes a positive article about the inaugural Les AnnĂ©es Folles tour, youâll give her the exclusive on the Andres Armand manuscript when youâre ready. She agreed. I hope that was okay.
Of course!
I know that the story about the apartment and the manuscript will have to come out sometime. Better that we have a chance to develop a relationship with the reporterâand control Ivy and Andresâs narrativeâbefore the story goes live.
We head south toward the boulevard Saint-Germain, then walk to 37 rue de la Bûcherie and stop in front of the green-and-gold storefront that is the Shakespeare and Company bookshop.
I explain that this is not the original location of Sylvia Beachâs shop and give a brief history of how American George Whitman originally called the shop Le Mistral and renamed it Shakespeare and Company in 1964 after Beach bequeathed the name to him.
âSylvia Beach opened her celebrated bookstore on the rue de lâOdĂ©on in 1921. It was a gathering place for expat writers. Hemingway and Gertrude Stein first met here. Sylvia Beach was the one who published James Joyceâs Ulysses in 1922, back when it was considered too scandalous for the mainstream. In 1925, she published Andres Armandâs Un Homme de Parole, which translates to A Man of His Word.â
I catch and hold Desiraeâs gaze. She offers an almost imperceptible nod, but that simple gesture tells me everything I need to know. She is agreeing to play nice.
Later, after weâve eaten lunch at the brasserie Les Deux Magots and made our way over to the rue de Rivoli, where the group is busy shopping, Desirae and I have a chance to speak.
âI appreciate your interest,â I say. âWould you mind telling me who tipped you off?â
Desirae is a petite woman with curly brown hair and soft amber eyes. Sheâs American. She barely looks old enough to be out of high school, much less working for a paper like The Guardian. But more power to her. I never underestimate the capability of a smart woman, no matter her age.
She smiles sweetly. âI wish I could, but a good reporter never reveals her sources.â
âI can respect that. This discovery is still new to us, but if you will give us time to get our affairs in order, I will happily give you the exclusive. And I can promise you a bonus story that will make it worth the wait. It shouldnât be much more than a few weeks.â
Her eyes are large. âSounds intriguing. Will you give me a hint?â
âA good source never reveals her story until itâs time. I hope you understand.â
âTouchĂ©,â she says. âI look forward to learning more.â
âAnd I look forward to reading your review of the tour.â
Later that evening when we arrive at the Champ de Mars, Marla flags us down and leads us to the picnic that she, Aiden, and Tallulah have waiting for us.
The sight takes my breath away: Theyâve set up white blankets decked out with sprigs of lavender and dozens of white candles in short jars. Boards of foie gras, fruit, nuts, and bread are set about for the first course. Aiden stands at the ready in his chefâs coat, prepared to ladle out the French onion soup from a large insulated pot.
The group laughs when I explain that alcohol is not allowed in the park and I donât want to lose my license on the first day. Instead, Marla and T distribute mugs of hot cider.
I call the group to attention and raise my glass. âIâd like to quote the great Ernest Hemingway, who said, âIf you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris⊠wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.â Even if youâre visiting, I hope youâll take a piece of Paris home in your heart.â
My charges raise their glasses to
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