“Yes! Lots of hot French guys!”
There had been a lot of laughs that night, and her friends teased her mercilessly about never being impulsive. She had gone to bed feeling so grateful for each one of those women.
A few hours into the flight, the attendants served dinner. After a glass of wine with a surprisingly delicious airplane meal of boeuf bourguignon, she settled into her seat, wrapped her shawl around herself, and snuggled into the cozy neck pillow. Here she was, taking a chance for the first time in a long time.
She hoped she wouldn’t come to second-guess her decision. She had promised Cynthia and the rest of the gang she wouldn’t. And Chloe. And herself. So that was that. Now she needed to relax and enjoy whatever lay ahead. At least she would try.
Her chat with Cynthia had clinched it. She had been so convincing. “At this stage in our lives, some of us are at a turning point, Nor. Happiness. Satisfaction. New goals. It’s all ahead of us. Who knows how we will move forward? Some of us might be very happy where we are. Change is up to us. Besides, you get to spend six weeks with Chloe!”
* * *
Chloe jumped up and down, waving madly as Nora entered the arrivals area. When Nora reached her, Chloe threw her arms around her mother and they hugged, rocking back and forth with pure joy.
“Maman! Tu es ici!”
Nora grinned as she replied, “Oui, ma fille! Me voilà!”
“Ooh là là,” Chloe said. “Getting right into the Frenchy vibe! Woohoo!”
They laughed, hugged again, and shared a few more words in French. During their weekly video chats, Chloe often encouraged Nora to learn more words and expressions, and tested her on the things she was learning on her French app too. Nora happily showed off, especially now that her daughter was fully bilingual.
“I took the Metro here, but we’ll grab a taxi home. C’est plus facile de parler! Easier to talk!” said Chloe.
Waiting in the taxi line, Nora took a good look at her daughter. How could she be twenty-nine already? Tall and willowy, with hair the color of rich, golden chestnut, halfway down her back, she’d gotten it all from her dad. But she had the same bright blue eyes as Nora.
Video calls were great, but it was the best thing to be together in the flesh. Nora reached out again and hugged her daughter. Chloe’s hug back sent a joyful frisson right down to her toes.
The drive was familiar to Nora now. Once they left the airport chaos behind, she soon felt the rhythm of the layered city streets. Before they got to the good part, they had to pass through some unattractive neighborhoods with graffiti-covered buildings and dingy strips of industrial service centers. Then they joined the fast-paced traffic on wider boulevards before turning into the quieter areas that led to Montmartre.
She squeezed Chloe’s hand, and they grinned at each other as the view changed to the more charming, historical, timeworn buildings that gave the neighborhood its charm.
“I knew you’d be glad you came,” Chloe said. “We’re going to have such a good time.”
As the car began the steep climb to Montmartre, curving and twisting, Nora caught a glimpse of the white domes of the Sacré Coeur. They turned onto a cobbled street and passed several cozy cafés and galleries before stopping in front of an unremarkable white limestone, five-story building with a set of slightly battered blue doors.
Nora’s heart did a little jump at the sight of the residence, which had been built in the early 1880s. Chloe and Olivier had moved into a small flat on the fourth floor. On that same floor, Vincent van Gogh had lived with his brother, Theo, from 1886 to 1887. Her imagination raced whenever she thought about it.
Nora always rented a small studio nearby when she’d visited Chloe in the past, so to stay in the same building as Chloe—and Vincent—was a thrill.
* * *
Her son-in-law Olivier bounded out the double blue doors and greeted Nora with the classic bise, a gentle air kiss on each cheek. “Bienvenue! C’est un grand plaisir de te revoir!”
Nora caught herself just in time before almost giving him a hug. She always found it unusual not to automatically hug anyone she loved, but she had pretty much adjusted to the fact it was not done in France. However, Olivier reached around to give her a light, almost awkward, hug and they laughed as Nora said Chloe had taught him well.
“I’m so happy to see you again too. Such a surprise on such short notice, right?” Nora noted Olivier seemed more handsome each time she visited. She had observed during previous visits that Frenchmen aged very well.
Olivier chuckled. “Chloe is most impressed with you taking this chance.”
“So am I,” Nora said, rolling her eyes.
Chloe led the way up the wide marble staircase to the building’s third floor, which was the fourth floor everywhere else in the world.
As she always did, Nora admired the elegant wooden apartment doors, each fitted with ornate brass escutcheons surrounding enormous keyholes which were no longer used but never failed to captivate her. They looked like they hid intriguing stories with secrets worth hearing. All the doors now had small modern locks installed elsewhere on the wood. They had no character but provided the necessary security.
“Just walking down your hallway brings me right back into the romance of France. How I love these doors and keyholes,” Nora exclaimed.
Once inside the tiny but bright apartment, Olivier put Nora’s suitcase next to the futon with a wry grin. “Your palatial space for three days.”
