EPILOGUE

By late August, Finn had completed his commercial drone courses and certifications in France, the U.S., and California, settled into his new job, and plans for a spring wedding were well underway.

“It certainly is handy to already have a hotel venue for the reception,” joked Juliet.

As their chosen best man, Jamie was the first to be informed of their engagement, followed by excited calls to Claudine Deschanel and Avery Evans in Paris.

Finn had been introduced to his prospective in-laws at a small dinner in the family’s private dining room with everyone in attendance except Brad IV. Afterward, Finn and Juliet’s father disappeared down the service elevator to his basement office. The two men emerged, an hour later, wreathed in smiles, with the joyous news that Juliet and her mother had a wedding to plan for in early spring.

“I don’t even get to be Bridezilla,” Juliet was soon complaining good-naturedly to Finn. “Mother has taken complete control, planning the wedding she never had.”

“Let her,” Finn counseled, nuzzling his bride-to-be as they lay on the bed she’d slept in since childhood. “I already feel married.”

For appearances sake, however, Mildred had given Finn her eldest son’s old suite, down the hall from his prospective bride. Even so, each night, he slipped into Juliet’s room with no one fooled in the slightest. Juliet had, after several heated discussions, succumbed to her mother’s pleas to include brother Brad in the wedding.

“It’s traditional for the eldest male sibling to be Head Usher!” Mildred insisted. “I doubt he’ll accept, however,” she added sadly.

Juliet, her jaw dropping, could only stare at her mother. Finally, she demanded, “And what about the way he treated you?”

For the merest second, a stricken look invaded her mother’s eyes—a moment that soon was replaced by a frown. “He was under tremendous pressure at that time.”

Once Finn had talked Juliet down from the trees after that particular exchange, he gently reminded her, “Let’s just be grateful the equity loan against the Bay View has been repaid, and your parents can retire this year.”

He kissed her soundly and urged her to swallow hard and write the invitation to Brad to serve as head usher, which she did on crisp stationary from Gumps.

“I mailed it to his business address in Palo Alto where his latest venture is incubating,” she reported to her fiancé, grumbling, “let’s hope he throws it in the trash!”

Much to everyone’s surprise, Brad accepted the honor, although Juliet told Finn she was under no illusions that he “had changed his spots.”

In the end, her mother’s planning came off brilliantly the day in early May when Finn and Juliet’s nuptials were held before a gathering of sixty friends and family in a chapel at Grace Cathedral, three blocks from the Bay View Hotel.

The organ was echoing a thunderous rendition of Marc-Antoine Charpentier’s Prelude on the Te Deum at the moment the entire Thayer family assembled in the vestibule. Juliet had just entered the back of the church, awash in her elaborate gown, chosen by her mother, of course. She took her father’s arm, relieved to see that Jamie was already a few feet down the aisle, escorting Aunt Claudine to her seat. In front of the bride and Brad senior, Mildred had just slipped her arm through the crook of the younger Brad’s elbow in preparation for her own grand entrance as Mother-of-the-Bride as the glorious music resounded off the soaring walls of the massive cathedral. The Te Deum was a favorite of both Juliet and Finn and played often at weddings held in Paris’ Notre Dame.

“Oh, Mother,” exclaimed Juliet with genuine pleasure, “you were finally able to persuade the organist to play the French processional. Thank you so much!”

Mildred turned around and met her daughter’s smiling gaze. Then she pulled her arm from her eldest son’s and embraced Juliet, clinging to her for a long moment. A faint, “I hoped you’d be pleased,” was whispered against her daughter’s ear.

“I am... very much,” she replied, a catch in her throat. “It’s going to be a beautiful wedding, thanks to you.”

Mildred’s smile contained a strange mixture of gratitude and triumph. She turned, resumed her place next to her son, and the pair took their first, measured steps toward the front of the chapel, where Finn was standing at the altar.

Sitting on the groom’s side, Aunt Claudine had taken her honored position in the front pew, joining Avery Evans and Alain Devereux, over from Paris, along with “The General” as Mildred reveled in describing Finn’s father. Resplendent in his uniform with a chest full of ribbons and medals, along with three stars gleaming on his shoulders, Andrew Deschanel was accompanied by Finn’s sister, Maureen, and her husband, also in formal attire as an Army Lieutenant Colonel.

After the ceremony concluded, the General stayed only for the champagne toast at the reception held in a walled-off half of the Bay View’s grand ballroom. He was due the next day, he apologized, for a conference in Washington, D.C. with the Joint Chiefs and had an aide whisk him to the airport for his flight to the East Coast.

At about the time that the last bottle of champagne was poured, the newlyweds were driven by their best man to San Francisco International themselves to catch their night flight to France. Both were exhausted from the excitement of the festivities and once on board the plane, they sank into their Business Class flat bunks and slept all the way to Paris.

When the taxi at De Gaulle had been loaded with their luggage, Finn gave instructions to the driver before he entered the cab. Juliet leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, still fatigued from the trip and all that had gone before. She was half asleep when they drew up to the embankment on the opposite side of the Seine from where the L’Étoile de Paris was moored. She had gathered her tote bag and other possessions inside the cab before she noticed they were parked across the water from Finn’s barge.

“Wait a minute! What are we doing here?” she asked.

“I have a little surprise for you.” Finn announced, paying the driver who swiftly sped off to catch his next fare.

“What surprise? Aren’t we spending our honeymoon on the boat?”

“Follow me and I’ll show you. Look down there.” He pointed in the direction of the quay below.

Just like the Right Bank where the Grenelle’s barge was moored, this side of the river was also paved in cobblestones. Here on the Left Bank, too, a series of gaily-painted vessels dotted the water’s edge. The base of the Eiffel Tower was only a few hundred yards from where they stood next to their suitcases. Finn led the way down the ramp past two other barges and halted at a black-hulled boat with the name Adriana incised on its prow in large, gold letters. In contrast to the weathered barge where Finn lived across the water, the craft on this side of the Seine sported teak trim both around the windows up top as well as encircling a series of portholes embedded in the hull. Pots of flowers—mostly red, yellow, and purple—dotted the decks. Forward, near the prow, handsome teak chairs and a matching table with a jaunty red umbrella invited the boat’s passengers to while away the days on deck sipping cocktails and eating hors d’oeuvres before descending into the grand salon.

“C’mon,” Finn said, gesturing toward the open hatch. “Let’s go below.”

Juliet obediently followed her husband up the gangway. “What in the world...?”

A few more steps led them along the deck and then down five wooden stairs into the barge’s beautifully appointed main cabin—featuring even more teak accents. It was luxuriously furnished with an elegant, built-in sofa and a sea-going, antique Louis Vuitton trunk topped with a thick sheet of glass doubling as a coffee table.

“You like?” Finn asked.

Juliet could see he was anxiously awaiting her response as she turned in a circle to take in every detail of the decor.

“Like? I love it! Whose is it? And what are we doing here?”

“It’s a wedding present... to both of us.”

“For our honeymoon?” She clapped her hands, mentally comparing it with the comparatively bare-bones furnishings on board L’Étoile. “She’s stunning! And, oh my! Will you look at the gas stove!” she exclaimed, peering over the teak bar into the galley, an onboard kitchen at least three times bigger than the area where Finn had previously produced some amazing meals on only two burners.

“Come see the staterooms,” he urged, leading the way past a tapestry curtain and down a highly-varnished passageway that led to two cabins, both featuring built-in double beds and high-gloss, wood-paneled wainscoting below white bulkheads where the portholes offered views of the Seine.

“Oh, Finn,” she said, turning to throw her arms around him. “How did you arrange this for us?”

“Aunt Claudine, of course,” he said, nose to nose. “She saw the ad and—”

“One of those short-term rental websites?”

“No.” Finn was grinning now. “The advertisement said ‘For Sale.’ Congratulations, Juliet! You and I now own this bucket.”

“What? Oh, my God... we do? It’s gorgeous!” she squealed. Then, a worried frown creased her brow. “But how can we afford it?”

“Aunt Claudine bought half of it for us as a wedding present and I bought the other half with my savings and the hefty hardship pay I got from working those weeks in a pretty dangerous part of Africa. Claudine insisted she be part of the deal as soon as I said I was flying to San Francisco to ask you to marry me.”

“She did?” Juliet could only shake her head in amazement.

“When Claudine and I came to see it the first time, she told me I was already in her will and so why not have some of my inheritance now? It’s an eighty-five-foot former lumber craft that some hotshot American ex-pat bought and refitted to a fare-thee-well, as you can see. Recently, he was unexpectedly transferred back to New York and put it on the market.” Finn cast her a worried glance. “I want you to know that I will never buy anything major like this without your input, but I had no idea if you’d say yes to me, and I didn’t want to have missed out if you did agree to be my wife. People were swarming all over her the first day she went on sale.”

Juliet gave an embarrassed laugh. “Well, after you’d heard my anguished voice messages saying how much I loved and missed you, I guess you thought it was a pretty good bet I’d say yes, right?”

Finn leaned forward and gave her a kiss. “I sure hoped so.”

Juliet sank down on the corner of the double bunk in the second stateroom, suddenly completely speechless. She could only stare in wonder at the soft-as-snow cashmere throw she recognized from Claudine’s apartment that was now folded across the arm of a small chair in the corner. Then, she was filled with confusion. “But, if we now own this in Paris, what about living in—”

Before she could finish her question, Finn assured her they would still be based in San Francisco, as they’d agreed. “But since we don’t own or rent in California, thanks to living in the Bay View, I figured this can be our condo-on-the-water whenever we’re in Paris. And when we’re not, we can loan it to friends. Avery has already said she wants first dibs.”

“Oh, Finn,” Juliet said, still staggered by the notion they were the boat’s proud owners. “She’s so beautiful! Our perfect Paris pied-à-terre when we come here.”

Finn sat down beside her and gathered her in his arms. “So what do you say, sailor? Shall we launch this honeymoon?” Finn gently pushed her down onto the stateroom’s built-in bed. Sunlight poured through the half-opened porthole and they could hear the rhythmic slap of the Seine’s ever-flowing current against the hull. “I vote that the honeymoon officially begins... right now.”

* * *

For the next ten days, Juliet and Finn left the barge only to secure supplies and take long walks along the embankment that led to the base of the Eiffel Tower. Seeing the mammoth structure from a different angle among the spring foliage had taken some getting used to, now that they were moored on the Left Bank side of Bir Hakeim bridge.

On a Wednesday around noon, they heard someone trilling outside the grand salon, “Yoo-hoo! Permission to come aboard!”

“Aunt Claudine!” they said in unison.

Fortunately, they were both dressed and so the couple scrambled on deck to greet their visitors, who were standing below them on the quay. Behind the slender, erect figure of Finn’s aunt, clad in chic, camel-colored gabardine slacks and a matching sweater set, stood Avery and Alain. Their arms laden with flowers and champagne, Finn motioned for the trio to mount the gangway while he and Juliet hastened to relieve them of their burdens.

“So how was your time in San Francisco after we left?” asked Juliet as the party descended below deck. “I hope the flight home wasn’t too awful, Aunt Claudine.”

“First of all, hello, my darlings!” she exclaimed, kissing them both effusively. “I told Avery that I had to give myself two days to recover from jet lag before we came over. We had a glorious time in your hometown, Juliet, so to celebrate, I’ve brought Veuve Clicquot for us all—except Finn, of course!” She held up a bottle of Perrier that she presented to him in a grand gesture.

Finn began to open the champagne as Juliet threw her arms around his aunt a second time to thank her for the role she’d played in purchasing the barge and offered quick hugs to Avery and Alain as well.

Avery announced, “We also came to help you christen the boat. What shall we name her?”

“Her name is the ‘Adriana,’” Finn declared, warning, “... and they say it can be very bad luck to change it. So how about you all just drink the champagne and we’ll sprinkle a little of it and some of my Perrier water onto the bow as her new owners—and leave it at that?”

“And anyway,” Juliet chimed in, “Finn and I love the name!”

Her groom began to pour the bubbling wine into tall flutes that had apparently come with the furnishings. Taking her proffered glass, Juliet thought dreamily to herself that the broad deck on the stern was going to make a perfect place to paint.

Paris would always be Paris. True, they would never forget the suffering of the Grenelle family, nor Avery’s struggle to recover from her wounds. The city would mourn its losses and its valiant citizens would carry on as America had after 9/11 and a host of terrorist events that followed. There were sure to be more attacks and tragedies, she thought, and for a moment she felt the familiar clutch of fear for the future hovering over their happy group. She inhaled deeply and then made a deliberate and conscious choice not to think about that now. She would be happy in the moment. She and Finn would face whatever was to come... together.

“To the Adriana,” Avery murmured, holding up her glass in a toast with the arm now healed, despite the scars. Juliet’s best friend glanced around at the Adriana’s interior. “Yep!” she declared in vigorous agreement. “The name’s perfect!”

Juliet turned to her right to absorb the sight of the husband she adored raising his glass of sparkling water, a man who had fought his demons and remained steadfast in all he believed. Her mind flew to the memory of them clinging to each other in their room in Talloires beside beautiful Lake Annecy in the wake of the Bastille Day terrorist attack.

Love instead of hate or despair, she reminded herself fiercely. It was their best weapon in any battles that lay ahead in this unpredictable world they were part of...

And then another thought washed over her.

Adriana is a lovely name for a little girl... after we have one named Julia Morgan Thayer Deschanel, of course...