Nora was also pleased to see how well Chloe and Olivier complemented each other as they related stories of their daily lives with relish and affection. Each time she visited in the three years since the wedding, Nora felt such motherly satisfaction to be in their company and see their relationship continue to flourish.
* * *
Several glasses of wine fueled the conversation and laughter. It was midafternoon when they left the bistro and Nora had begun to experience the fog of jet lag.
“I knew that was lunch and dinner I was eating, and I am stuffed. I’ll have nothing more to eat today, thank you very much. But I can’t go to sleep yet. I’m going to walk around and stop in a few galleries to keep myself awake.”
“Bonne idée,” Chloe said, and Olivier agreed. “We will be at our studio for a few hours. Keep us posted on your whereabouts.”
Nora laughed. “Pas souci! No problem! I’ll be fine and then I’ll crash after a long soak in your glorious tub.”
“Sounds like a good plan, Mom. Oh, by the way, your skates arrived. I kept forgetting to tell you. You might even want to use them before New Year’s, as there are lots of skating rinks at the Christmas markets.”
Nora was surprised to learn that. “You never know,” she said. “Let’s see how I settle in.”
“For sure,” Chloe said, giving her a hug. “We’ll see you in the morning.”
“Thank you for that magnificent déjeuner, and don’t worry, I know my way around. I’m going to stop at the next terrace I come to and have an espresso for an extra shot of energy. I’ve been practicing getting used to it so I can really feel French. ”
* * *
The next café terrace was only a short walk away. Café des Deux Moulins was featured in the movieAmélie, and Nora ordered an espresso now. Sitting in the shade of the building, she wrapped the blanket hanging over the back of her chair around her legs. She wasn’t cold but liked the cozy feeling.
The espresso was hot and strong. The jolt of caffeine hit Nora in minutes and she was soon ready to continue exploring. She left some money on the small plastic dish the waiter had placed on the table when he brought her coffee. Paying the bill like this in France was something she thought was brilliant. Just leave your cash and go.
Walking up a narrow cobblestone street, the white domes of the Sacré Coeur came into view. As she arrived in the busy atmosphere of Place du Tertre, she spotted several inviting cafés and promised she would check them out on her future strolls. Even in the cold weather, artists were painting at their easels and encouraging people to stop and sit for a portrait.
She continued to the steps of the Sacré Coeur, and at the top she stopped to drink in the expansive view over the city. Taking several photos, she chuckled, thinking how many she already had from previous trips. The view was one of those shots she took year after year … just because.
She wasn’t certain exactly what it was that made the slate rooftops of Paris such an iconic visual. Through the years she had heard artists describe how the cool blueish-grey tone of the slate and matte texture scattered light differently during the day. She liked how Olivier had once told her the angled mansards, crooked chimneys, and weathered tiles created a visual signature of the city. Seeing this from above was almost an emotional experience to her. She understood how so many painters were inspired by the expansive vista, particularly in the late 1800s, when van Gogh lived here. She closed her eyes and pictured them: Toulouse-Lautrec, Modigliani, Monet, Degas, van Gogh, Gaugin, Cezanne, Pissarro.
The thought that she now lived near the same space as Vincent van Gogh and his brother, Theo, was becoming an obsession. But why not? The fact was simply too special to ignore.
The brothers’ apartment was one over from Chloe and Olivier’s, on the other side of Giselle Tremblay. They told Nora it was privately owned and had been empty for some time. No one seemed to know why it wasn’t occupied.
“Not even Giselle knows!” Chloe had said. “And she knows everything!”
When she found a spot to rest, Nora allowed herself a few fantasies about Vincent living in the neighborhood. She pictured him painting feverishly in the golden light of late afternoon, like it was now. She wondered if he always wore a hat in Montmartre, as he was so often pictured, or was that more in Provence? And did he always smoke as he painted? She remembered reading about him saying he sometimes spent his last money on tobacco rather than food.
The warm sun washed over her as she sat on the stairs watching and enjoying the stories that played out among the colorful characters, excited tourists, and blasé locals wandering about. No doubt there were a few pickpockets in the mix, but she hadn’t spotted any today.
She walked down the stairs and over to 62 Boulevard de Clichy. There, all that remained of the famous Café du Tambourin was a plaque on the wall by the entrance. It stated how artists including Vincent had frequented the bar in the 1800s.
Nora stood there, recalling how she and Jeremy had rushed to find the café on their honeymoon and how sad they felt to learn it had closed and gone bankrupt in 1887. They had laughed at not doing better research before their trip and wandered down the street to another bar for a glass of wine.
She felt stalled in a bittersweet moment of emotional limbo, a state not unknown to her. Thinking of Jeremy often brought it on. She pushed herself to get going and took the stairs back up the hill.
As she slowly climbed, she contemplated how she might be influenced by the fact she was staying next door to where Vincent had lived. Before she’d left for Paris, she had fantasized about writing a story based on Vincent’s affair with a bar waitress and considered it might be the answer to her writer’s block.
Recording some ideas on her phone, as she often did when it came to her writing, she promised herself to do some serious thinking about it once she was settled with Atticus.
After she returned to Chloe and Oli’s apartment, Nora checked about their arrival time. She assured Chloe there was no need to rush home to her, since she was heading to bed after her bath and most definitely was not interested in anything to eat.
When the bathtub was filled almost to the top, Nora added a drop of lavender essential oil, at Chloe’s earlier insistence. “It’ll help you sleep, Mom. Trust me,” her daughter had said.
Nora sank into the water up to her neck with a deep sigh. Having a long soak had been her best way to relax for her entire life. Feeling calmed by the warmth and fragrance of the water, she was filled with gratitude to be back in Paris and that Chloe had made it happen.
She told Jeremy all about her thoughts and emotions since she had arrived. Memories of their honeymoon filtered into her head, and she promised to visit all their favorite places during her stay. As she had done each previous visit.
