ChapterThirty-Five
Two weeks left stayingwith Atticus
On Monday morning, Nora and Chloe met the other women at Angelina’s in Galeries Lafayette for breakfast. The café’s reputation since 1903 for chocolat chaud was not to be denied, Nora assured them.
The ladies’ murmurs of delight confirmed Nora’s proclamation. “We know chocolate in Italy, trust me, but this is hard to beat,” Bella declared.
“And three cheers for the magnificent croissant,” Maria said. “We don’t make them this good in Italy.”
“Here’s a fact you may not have known,” Nora said. “Breakfast really wasn’t a thing in Paris until after the second World War. But even when it did start to be more accepted it was simple and carbohydrate based.”
“I didn’t know that,” said Cynthia.
Nora added, “Really, it’s only quite recently that English and North American bacon-and-egg breakfasts showed up here. Too bad I don’t have time to take you to the Breakfast in America diner in the Latin Quarter for the best blueberry pancakes. Sooo not French but fun!”
Bella said to Nora, “In Italy in the morning, it’s all about the espresso, biscotti, and cornetto.”
“Which is?” Nora asked.
“The yummiest pastry,” Bella said. “Kind of like a croissant but softer and filled with jam or custard. Or?—”
“Nutella!” Cynthia interrupted and squealed softly as the others laughed and nodded. “I’ve become a Nutella addict!”
“Welcome to the club,” Nora congratulated her.
Salima described her favorite Libyan breakfast. “Shakshuka! It’s a dish of tomatoes, onions, pepper, spices, and eggs. A great way to start the day. But I might be persuaded differently by this French food.”
They spent the rest of the morning picking up souvenirs and checking out the department store windows. The women separated for an hour of serious retail therapy before meeting back up and wandering over to the Marché de Noël at Place de la Concorde around noon.
In the afternoon, the visitors planned to take their time strolling the Champs Elysees and then grab the Hop On, Hop Off bus. They would end up in Montmartre so Nora could show them around.
“Cynthia fell in love with your neighborhood and insists we see it too,” Salima said.
“With pleasure,” Nora told them. “Let’s meet at my apartment at five for apéros.”
* * *
After a light lunch, Nora and Atticus arrived at Marie-Louise’s door with gifts from Provence in her panier.
“Bonjour, Madam Bennett,” Yvette greeted her. “Welcome back! Did you enjoy your fête de Noël in Provence?”
“Bonjour, Yvette. Thank you, yes. We had a wonderful family celebration, and—” Her response was interrupted by Marie-Louise calling them.
Yvette hurried into the salon with Nora right behind her. To their relief, Marie-Louise was fine. She apologized for calling out and beckoned Nora over for an extended bise, saying, “I simply did not want you to have to repeat yourself. We both want to hear all about your experience.”
Yvette tut-tutted her. “Madam! You gave us a scare. I must attend to something, but I will be only a minute.” She gave Nora a subtle eyeroll on her way out.
Marie-Louise patted the chair beside her. “Dis-moi, s’il te plaît. Tell me everything, please. I love Provence so much! Yvette, please stay with us.”
When Yvette returned, Nora handed out her gifts of santons, sachets, and soaps, all of which had been beautifully wrapped in the shops or stalls, a French custom she admired.
She described how she loved all the festivities and traditions she had experienced.
When Nora rhapsodized about the meals, Marie-Louise burst into laughter and insisted on hearing everything in detail.
“Alors, what memories,” she murmured many times, her voice filled with melancholy. “It makes me sad to think I may never go back there.”
“Canadians like to say, ‘never say never.’ You may well go back again if you really wish to.” Nora patted her hand.
