“That will get us started,” Giselle commented as Luc ceremoniously popped a cork and everyone cheered.
“We like to do that ourselves,” he said to Nora. “It’s more festive.”
Champagne flowed and they enjoyed one musical performance after another. Everyone at the table was thoughtful about including Nora in the conversation. She implored them to speak French, and Chloe said she would translate when needed. Nora told them she was determined to become better at speaking and understanding French.
“Diving in is often the best way,” Luc said to her. “Sois courageuse. Be fearless … and maintain a sense of humor.”
“Nous essaierons de parler lentement,” Giselle added.
Everyone agreed, with sympathetic laughter. They would do their best to speak slowly.
Nora knew exactly what they meant. The French did speak quickly and slowing down would help. And be appreciated.
The owner, introduced by Giselle as Frédé, joined them when he took breaks from being a guitarist. “You will stay after hours, non?” he asked the group as it got closer to closing time. Nora raised her eyebrows at Chloe and Olivier. They both looked at her and grinned as the others uttered enthusiastic assurances.
“Absolument.”
“Totalement.”
“Bien sûr!”
Satisfied with the results, Frédé left the table to check on other guests.
“The owners are descendants of the original Frédéric Gérard, who bought the club in 1900. He was known as Frédé too,” Luc told Nora. “They have remained true to the bohemian atmosphere he established, and we love it. Not too many tourists are aware of this place, so the crowd is mainly locals, and we love it that way.”
The others nodded.
At one o’clock in the morning the club was closing, and Nora looked around at her friends for signs they would be leaving soon. Giselle patted her hand. “Not us, chérie. This is our special time.”
More champagne appeared and Nora was amazed that everyone seemed so light-hearted and animated but still quite sober. She felt more than a little inebriated but decided they were more experienced at drinking champagne. And besides, one only sipped champagne. It seemed to heighten everyone’s charisma rather than cloud it.
I’ll just have to get better at this, she told herself.
Melancholic accordion music played now, which puzzled Nora as it was a distinctly different sound compared to anything she’d heard earlier that evening. Luc helped Frédé clear a large area near the stage by pushing tables and chairs out of the way.
“Nora, I see the look on your face.” Giselle sat beside her. “I am guessing you did not know that tango is extremely popular in France … and has been since the early 1900s. Before World War One, Paris was overcome by tangomania! The dance became fashionable here but also spread to small villages throughout the country, and it has remained part of our culture ever since. Dancers came from Argentina in the early days to perform and give classes. Watch Mark and Marie, they are professionals, and we all learn from them. But tonight, they are just here for fun and pleasure.”
The idea of trying to keep up with professional dancers after a night of champagne didn’t sound very appealing. “Oh dear, I have no idea how to tango, although it sounds fascinating. Maybe tonight I’ll just watch.”
Giselle gave her a warm, knowing smile. “Attends … just wait. You will be surprised.”
Everyone but Nora got up and moved to the cleared space. Frédé extended his hand to her. In the most exotic French accent Nora swore she had ever heard, he said, “Giselle tells me you are visiting, and you do not know how to tango?”
Nora froze, feeling a twinge of panic. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself. “Yes, I’m visiting, and no, I do not know how to tango. I’m sorry.”
“Ah, non, non. Do not worry. I will show you. It’s really very simple. Here is a good quote about this dance I always share with those just learning: ‘Tango teaches us that joy isn’t always loud—sometimes, it’s found in balance, trust, and the beauty of surrender.’ Just remember those three words and you will do it. The French love it because it is all about plaisir.”
With that he swept her into his arms. “This is called the abrazo … the embrace. It’s where it all begins.”
Nora hoped she didn’t feel like a stiff board to him. She certainly felt like one to her.
“Nora, look at me.”
Frédé’s captivating dark eyes drew her in with a soft but magnetic energy. His voice exuded a quiet confidence, inviting her into his world. “Just melt in my embrace and trust me. It’s as simple as that. We can start with something smooth and uncomplicated.”
Nora swallowed a gulp. This was intoxicating. He was intoxicating. The music played—a slow tune, rich and melancholic. They began to dance.
Frédé guided her every move. His hand rested in the middle of her back with a comforting amount of pressure, and after a few moments of awkwardness, she felt as though she was floating.
