This market was big and noisy and crowded, but that added to the fun of it. Chloe took selfies of the two of them on la grande roule, the Ferris wheel, and when they reached the top, Nora couldn’t stop taking shots of the spectacular view over the city.
There were a dozen other midway rides, and Chloe insisted they also ride the bumper cars as they often had at the autumn fairs when she was growing up. They laughed until they both had tears streaming down their faces and staggered off to find a food hut for a snack and a rest.
Steaming copper vats of traditional onion soup, served with fresh baguette and mulled wine, called to them, and they were happy to take a break and watch the masses enjoying themselves.
With over a hundred wooden huts offering French-produced food products, artisan handiwork, crafts and gifts from around the world, there were endless distractions. Nora sent a few videos along with more of Chloe’s selfies to her friends in Canada. After a few hours, they declared themselves exhausted, and as soon as Nora purchased fresh gingerbread, the tantalizing aroma of which she could no longer resist, they’d hopped on the Metro for home.
One thing the Girls at home all decided was that they needed to plan a friends’ trip to Paris over Christmas the next year.
The closest market to Nora was a few minutes’ walk away from her apartment in Montmartre, by the Place des Abbesses metro station. It was small, with only twenty vendors. Nora had discovered it by chance on a walk with Atticus. There was a stall with the most delicious escargots and raclette, and she found herself stopping by near lunchtime more often than she ever imagined she would.
She’d chuckled the first time she noticed the champagne bar.How French is this?she’d texted to the Girls at home, accompanied by a selfie.
On Wednesday, after Marie-Louise told more of her story for two hours straight, Yvette and Nora bundled her in her wheelchair and took her to the small market.
The sun shone brightly, and the temperature was reasonably mild. It was a perfect day for browsing. The atmosphere was that of a small town—many people stopped to greet and chat with Marie-Louise. The conversations were often accompanied by laughter. Nora was touched to see what a well-loved local personality she was and the reverence with which she was treated.
After a while, Marie-Louise suggested they all go and enjoy some escargots. The tantalizing combination of butter and garlic was irresistible, and the owner of the stall placed a small table and three chairs in a spot warmed by a heater. He bowed with great respect and recognition to Marie-Louise as he helped with her wheelchair.
Marie-Louise closed her eyes as she took her first bite and sighed, “Délicieux! It tastes heavenly.” They all agreed the infusion of parsley, garlic, and butter, mixed with the slightest hint of an earthy flavor, was divine. The baguette dipped in the sauce was the crowning glory. The conversation was all about food as they savored theirs.
Nora looked from her friends to the lively market, then back to her food, as though trying to hold the whole moment in place… The warm feelings, the flavor, the shared indulgence.It’s just so French. She couldn’t stop grinning.
The owner of the stall insisted there would be no charge, as it was his honor to host such fine women. They all knew he referred to Marie-Louise and were touched by the dignity he accorded them. Nora discreetly asked Yvette if she should leave a tip. Yvette looked horrified and said the owner would be enormously insulted if she did.
“It was his way of honoring Marie-Louise,” Yvette whispered to Nora as they walked back home. “Everyone in Montmartre, indeed in France, knows her and her family’s history with the Resistance. It is never forgotten.”
Nora understood and again thought,Just so French…
ChapterTwenty-One
On Friday morning,Nora joined Chloe, Oli, and Pierre for crêpes at le Moulin and the atmosphere was almost convivial.
Without thinking, when their Nutella crêpes arrived, Nora and Chloe burst into singing “Tradition” again, while Pierre stared at them with a quizzical expression. Olivier laughed and explained to Pierre what it was all about. Nora thought Pierre didn’t quite get it as he still looked at them strangely and then changed the subject.
Pierre had been away most of the week visiting the galleries of some friends in Normandy, so Nora hadn’t seen him since the dinner with Celeste.
She listened as they talked about his trip. Pierre insisted on speaking French most of the time and Nora thought he enjoyed making her feel awkward about it. In spite of that, she found his voice—low, steady and unmistakably alluring—incredibly attractive … in French or English.
He explained he was pumped about the success of his trip, since he’d discovered a new young artist who showed interest in exhibiting at his gallery in Nice. Nora was impressed with his enthusiasm and couldn’t blame him for wanting to express it in his own language.
My bad, she thought, as she still stumbled in French … particularly with him.I need to keep improving.
After sneaking a peek at her translation app in the loo, Nora asked Pierre in hesitant French about his drive. She added she was thinking of going to Normandy for a couple of days in January, but probably by train.
Apart from the fact that she said she was going todrivethe train, which had them all laughing, including Pierre. They congratulated her on her effort.
“It will be quite cold then,” he told her, switching to English. “But coming from Canada, you are no doubt used to that kind of weather.”
She wasn’t certain if he was being disparaging, as he gave no hint of a smile. But she agreed, and Chloe made some comments about not missing those cold Canadian winters.
Pierre shook hands with Nora when he left, after giving warm bises to Chloe and Olivier.
He wished them all a good trip to Avignon, saying he would see them in Provence. Then he climbed into his van and drove off.
“No bise for me,” Nora said to Chloe and Oli after he was gone.
Oli apologized and Chloe raised an eyebrow as she shook her head in disappointment. “He can be so nice when he wants to be.”
