AMANDA LOOKED UP—WAY UP. IN FRONT OF HER A MASSIVE wrought-iron lattice structure pierced the brilliant blue morning sky.
“Wow! The Eiffel Tower! It’s even more amazing in real life.”
“Unreal, isn’t it?” Leah shaded her eyes with her hand.
“Can we go up to the top?” asked Amanda.
“Not today, but maybe later,” replied Leah’s Aunt Jenny.
Amanda’s eyes glowed with gratitude as she placed her hand on her chest. “Thanks for inviting me to join you both here in France.”
“I figure that’s the least we could do after you came all the way to Malta to help us. I’m pleased you could get time off from school.”
Amanda loved listening to Aunt Jenny’s Scottish accent.
“When I told my teacher we would be sleeping in a bookstore, she was all for it. I just need to hand in a writing project when I get back.”
“At least we can relax and enjoy Paris. We won’t be chased by bad guys or have to look for lost artifacts.” Leah grinned. “And the shopping here is fabulous.”
They took selfies with Monsieur Eiffel’s iconic tower behind them and then caught the crowded Metro. “This is our stop,” said Aunt Jenny after a few minutes. They climbed up steep stairs, dodging passengers in a hurry to get to their destinations, and emerged onto a tree-lined street. Four lanes of crazy traffic flew by in each direction.
“This is the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, the most famous street in Paris and an important thoroughfare,” announced Aunt Jenny. “Follow me.” She led them past high-end shops with the latest fashions adorning some windows and glittering jewellery in others. “You can buy anything you want here.” She stopped in front of a store with a red Lamborghini sports car in the window. “As long as you have the money!”
Amanda pointed to a huge stone archway at the far end of the street. “What is that?”
“The Arc de Triomphe, the heart of Paris,” Aunt Jenny replied. “Twelve avenues spread out from the circular plaza making it look like it is the centre of a star. Come, let’s get a picture of you in front of it, Amanda.”
They crossed the hectic street and stopped at a narrow divider in the middle. Amanda’s heart raced as cars and motor scooters whipped around her on both sides.
“This is the very best place to take a selfie with the Arc behind you.”
“Yikes!” Amanda shuddered. “Is it safe?”
“Sort of. Others are doing it too. But be quick as there is a queue.”
Amanda noticed a line of tourists waiting to stand where she stood, on a concrete island in the middle of a busy street. She forced a smile as Leah held out the camera and took a selfie of them in front of the famous attraction.
When they reached the other side of the street, Amanda took a breath. “Now that was insane.”
“Never a dull moment with Aunt Jenny.” Leah rolled her eyes.
Two teenage boys, dressed in old-fashioned clothing decorated with gold fleurs-de-lys, handed out pamphlets near the Arc.
“Mademoiselle, would you like to see a play at the Opera House?” asked one boy as he placed a pamphlet in Amanda’s hand.
She smiled. “Thank you. I mean, merci.”
His face lit up. “Where are you from?”
“Canada.”
“Then you must speak le français. Canada is a French-speaking country, non?”
“We are a bilingual country, and I’m learning French in school, so I know a little bit.” She pointed to his costume. “I also learned that the fleur-de-lys is a lily and was a symbol of the kings of France.”
“Mais oui! Welcome to Paris. Perhaps we will see you at the Opera House tonight. It is a most famous play, called The Phantom of the Opera. Perhaps you have heard of it?”
“Oh yes! I saw it in Calgary with my great-aunt Mary. I loved it.”
“Show this coupon and you will get a discount. Tell them Pierre sent you.” He winked and moved on.
Amanda’s face felt hot.
“I see you made a friend already.” Leah smirked. “He sure is cute.”
Under the Arc, a flat slab, outlined with copper bricks and a low chain border, caught Amanda’s attention. A flame burned at one end. “What’s that, over there with the red, white, and blue flowers around it?”
“That is the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier,” answered Aunt Jenny. “It honours the thousands of French soldiers whose final resting place is not known. The eternal flame is never put out and is rekindled every evening at 6:30.”
Amanda moved closer to get a better look. She placed her hand over her heart and sniffled as she thought of her great-uncle who had been in World War II. She only recently learned that he was buried in Holland. Thinking about war always made her sad.
Lost in thought, she bumped into a man crouched down on his knees, taking pictures.
“I’m so sorry.”
He looked over his shoulder and shrugged. “No problem.” The man stood up, towering over her, and nodded before walking to the other side of the memorial. His salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back in a long ponytail, and she noticed he walked with a slight limp.
“So, what are we going to do next?” she asked Leah.
“If we can get Aunt Jenny away from those carvings on the side of the Arc, maybe we can go shopping! I love shopping in Paris much more than shopping back home in London.”
Amanda looked back and saw that the man had his camera aimed right at Leah’s aunt.
After they visited some shops and bought chic red berets, Aunt Jenny led them to a bookstore called Shakespeare and Company. “This is where we’ll be staying for the next few nights,” she announced.
A friendly young man opened the front door for them. Rows and rows of books, displayed on two levels lined with shelves, begged to be read. Amanda breathed in the welcoming smell of books, old and new. Her heart wanted to burst.
“This has got to be my happy place!” She ran over to a shelf and pulled out a copy of Anne of Green Gables. “This is my most favourite book of all.”
A store clerk with bright red hair and black-rimmed glasses joined her. “That is a very popular book, even though it was written a long time ago. It’s about a girl in Canada. Is that where you’re from?”
“Yes.” Amanda beamed. “But Anne Shirley is from Prince Edward Island, on the east coast, and I’m from Alberta, in the western part of the country.”
“Are you here for the Tumbleweed program?”
“Yes, we all are,” interjected Aunt Jenny. “I’m Jenny Anderson. This is my niece Leah Anderson and her friend, Amanda Ross.”
“We’ve been expecting you. I’m Fiona, the manager, and I’ll show you around. Let’s go upstairs and put your backpacks away. I’m sure you are familiar with the rules, but just to be sure, you only need to work in the bookshop for a couple of hours each day. Make sure to write an autobiography for our files before you leave. Feel free to work on any of your own writing projects if you wish.” She unlocked a door that opened to a set of stairs, which led to an attic room containing three sets of bunk beds and a desk. “I hope you don’t mind sharing. The bathroom is through the door over there as well as a small kitchenette where you can make coffee or tea. Get settled in, then come downstairs and tell me what shifts you would like to work.”
A briefcase and jacket lay on the bottom of one bunk.
Leah scrunched her eyebrows. She didn’t look pleased. “You mean we have to share this room with other people?”
Amanda tugged at her arm. “Come on, this will be so much fun. Do you want the top or bottom bunk?”
Aunt Jenny placed her shawl and backpack on the bottom of another bunk. “Besides, I’ll be here too. And it’s only for a few nights. Amanda’s right, it should be fun.” She winked at Amanda.
Someone came out of the small kitchen with a cell phone to his ear and, without looking at them, walked down the stairs. His ponytail swung from side to side, and he walked with a slight limp.
Amanda’s scalp prickled. Could it be? She shook her head. No way.