| |
Clara plopped her bags in the hotel room and flopped on the bed. She let out a glorious moan at the feeling of lying on a soft bed after her long flight. The room smelled of lavender and roses from the fresh linens and beautiful bouquet in the corner. Light streamed from the open French doors onto the balcony of her suite. She didn’t expect her room to be this swanky, but apparently the college and her publisher paid for nearly the best. After all, it wasn’t the Four Seasons George V or Le Meurice. The lilac walls were so warm and inviting like summer, with the white sheer curtains by the balcony doors. The chocolates on the pillows looked divine, and the bathroom was gorgeous with wall art of the Eiffel Tower and Arc de Triomphe, fluffy towels, lavender scented soaps and hair wash, and a gigantic shower. She wanted to take a nice long bubble bath in the beautiful clawfoot tub, but she knew she only had time for a quick shower before her meeting.
Getting up off the bed she ripped off her clothes and tossed them into the linen hamper. With toiletries in hand, she sashayed into the bathroom and started up a steaming hot shower. The hot water turned her skin a beat red, but it felt so good. She let the water run over her and she closed her eyes and thought about what she was going to say. Oh hello, I’m Clara Reilly. I’m trying to find out information since my parents and grandparents want to be so secretive about our family’s past like we’re related to Jeffery Dahmer or Hitler. No...that’s not it. Hi, I’m Clara Reilly. I’m the one who contacted you about some missing family records. Could you point me in the right direction? There, that sounded much better. After getting out of the shower she quickly checked her phone: 3:14 pm. Her meeting with this museum curator of the Musée des Archives Nationales was at 4:30pm. Great, enough time to get dressed, do a little makeup and start walking. Clara knew her hotel was only about a 6-minute walk from the museum so at least that won’t take too much extra time. She decided on a modest purple vintage dirndl dress with capped lace sleeves and a plunging neckline. She added her favorite gold necklace from her grandfather with a large locket and a beautifully etched fleur-de-lis on the front. In the bathroom with her large makeup case, she applied her usual eyeliner, purple eyeshadow, and some lush modest pink lipstick just enough to make everything pop. Grabbing a small clip, she pulled her long, curly dark brown hair into a bun.
“Perfect,” she said, adjusting her dress. She grabbed her phone again. 4:15pm.
“Shit. Shoes, shoes, shoes...” she muttered trying to root through her bag looking for her shoes. Finally finding them underneath a bunch of clothes, she pulled out a pair of low-heeled black pumps. Basically, hopping out the door putting one shoe on with one hand and grabbing her phone and purse with the other, she made it out of the room door and quickly pulled on the other shoe.
She sucked in a deep breath heading to the elevator. “Showtime.”
***
Jack laid his head down on a stack of papers and huffed. He rubbed his hands through his slicked black hair. “Can we please get today over with...”
His assistant Angelique peeked around the corner. “Excuse moi, Monsieur Danton, your 4:30 appointment has arrived. Ella is sending her up now.
“Thank you, Angel,” he cooed and gave her a wink. Angelique blushed and disappeared. If no one knew any better of his pension for pet names, they would think the typical boss/secretary affair was going on. Jack knew it would be a few minutes until they arrived at his office, so he decided to get a drink. He got up from his chair and walked out, closing the door behind him. The small café was around the corner down the hall from his office and he was parched from his long day of mishaps and meetings. He poured himself a hot cup of coffee, wishing it was some of the delicious rare 1812 Napolean cognac he had in his cellar at home. With his cup in hand, the steam rising to his nose, he made the trek back to his office. As he rounded the corner, he noticed a woman standing near the case with Marie Antionette’s farewell letter. She wore a beautiful purple dress, possibly a dirndl with little black pumps and a divine bun in her hair. The loose strands framed her face perfectly and he couldn’t help but stare. Petite, but the model of an ancient Athenian goddess. She looked as if she wanted to open the glass, her eyes sparkling in shock at the faded parchment. Jack broke out of his mini trance, sighed, and walked up to her.
“I wouldn’t touch the glass if I was you there’s sensors on there that set the alarm off.”
The woman jumped, startled at his voice and knocked his hot coffee right into his chest. The scalding hot bean juice covered his shirt and some of his pants and it was all he could do not to scream from the pain.
***
“Wait right here I’m sure Mr. Danton will be back soon. Angelique!” Ella called.
“Yes, Ella?” Angelique poked her head from her small office.
“Do you know where Mr. Danton went?”
“Oh, oui, he stepped out to get a refreshment quickly he’ll be back in just a few minutes.” Angelique turned to look at Clara. “Miss Reilly, is it?”
Clara smiled. “You can call me Clara.”
“Oh, oui mademoiselle. Clara, feel free to look around while you wait.”
“Merci Angelique.” Clara nodded, and Angelique popped back into her office. Ella was already gone in a flash.
Clara’s heels clicked against the polished wood floors. She walked from case to case, admiring the papers and artifacts of old France. As she walked by one case by Mr. Danton’s office, a faded paper caught her eye. Reading the description, it was a letter by Marie Antionette just before her execution. Clara couldn’t take her eyes off it. Something about it moved her to tears, caught in a trance reading the last words of Madame Deficit. She didn’t hear the clicking of shoes walking toward her.
“I wouldn’t touch the glass if I was you there’s sensors on there that set the alarm off.”
Clara jumped and knocked right into the speaker. A cup of hot coffee spilled right onto the man’s chest and down his pants. A large tan stain now adorned his crisp white shirt. She looked up at his face and saw it red, either angry at her or screwed in pain from the burning liquid touching his body.
Clara could do nothing but word vomit from the shock of her clumsiness. “Oh my god. I’m so, so sorry. Désolé, Monsieur. I didn’t know you were there. Please forgive me, let me help you.” She looked for something to help wipe off the coffee but remained frantic.
“Angelique!” The man called in a pained yet firm tone. “Get me a new shirt and some towels, quickly.”
In a flash, Angelique was beside him with a couple of towels and a fresh new powder blue shirt.
“Forgive me Miss, but I need to change before my meeting.”
Everything seemed like a whirlwind. The next thing Clara knew Angelique was in Mr. Danton’s office with the man. There was only a thin curtain covering the large glass window to the door, and she could see right into the office. Her breath knocked right out of her when she saw him take off his suit jacket and unbutton his shirt. She had to look away when the shirt started rolling down his arms. His chest wasn’t too hairy, but just enough for any woman to adore a rugged man. He wasn’t too muscular either with a six-pack, but he was gorgeous all the same. Like a perfectly chiseled outdoorsman back home. Luckily, he didn’t catch her staring. Clara acted like she was looking at the case with one of Charlemagne’s letters when he re-opened his office door.
“I’m sorry about that. Miss Reilly?” he said, extending out his hand. He was now dressed in his fine powder blue shirt with a black suit and tie, his black hair slicked back to perfection. His smile was dazzling along with those green eyes.
She tried not to blush. “Clara is fine.”
“Clara? Bit old-fashioned, isn’t it?”
Clara shrugged her shoulders. “My mother is an old-fashioned person. Which is kind of why I’m here.”
“Please, come into my office Clara and we can discuss it further.”
Clara walked by him into his office, and he shut the door behind him just as Angelique was making her exit with the used towels and his stained shirt.
“I’m really sorry about that, Mr. Danton. I was just so entranced with Marie’s letter.”
“No worries, Clara. And please, call me Jack. No need for formalities, we’re two Americans, aren’t we?” he said as he inched around his carved oakwood desk. She noticed on the sides there were small fleur-de-lis carved into the wood. “So, what exactly does bring you here? You said you needed help with familial records?”
Clara coughed. “Um, yes sir. Jack. See, I’m the ranking associate professor at Yale in the history department and I’m working on a research project about my genealogy. My publisher and the university wanted something that can help students and regular everyday people to be able to research their own family history. Except I’ve run into a snag. I can find my father’s ancestry all the way back to the Early Middle Ages, but my mother’s stops here in Paris around 1841.” She pulled out the mass of papers from her small briefcase. “I have our entire family history until then. All I have is that in 1841 we emigrated to Philadelphia from Paris. I couldn’t find anything before that.”
Jack took the papers and started shifting through them. “I see. Your name sounds oddly English, did you try the archives in England as well?”
Clara shook her head. “Not yet. With how the records were going I thought it best to start here.”
Jack tried avoiding Clara’s gaze by staring at the papers she handed him. He knew the truth. His own search proved to be the same until he started getting close to the classified records and he knew that’s why Marc threatened him this morning. There was something about this woman’s family that was to remain secret, and the historian in him wanted nothing more than to blow it wide open. Especially if it sticks in Marc’s craw. He had to come up with a plan to get to those records.
“I’m sorry Clara but my search turned up the same as yours. I found nothing after 1841. However, there are some records I don’t have access to yet that I can get for us to look through. How long are you staying in Paris?”
“Well, it’s the summer and I have my 3-month sabbatical for this semester. As long as it takes, really. My publisher and the university want this done, so I’m not leaving until I get my answers. I have a personal stake in this too. My family doesn’t want me knowing anything about our past and I want to know why.”
Jack saw the fire rising in her, her bright blue eyes turning darker the more passionate about her quest she became. And for some reason, it turned him on.
He had to take a deep breath and calm himself before he answered her. “And I’d like nothing more than to help you. Just give me a few days and we’ll see what I can do.”
Clara stood up to leave. Jack felt a tugging at his heart, like he didn’t want her to go.
“Thank you, Jack. Should I give you a call in a few days or would you like my number?”
He wanted nothing more than to get her number and hear her voice again.
“Um, yes give me your cell and I’ll give you a call when I have more documents. May I ask, where are you staying? Did you need a ride back?”
Clara seemed taken aback by his gesture. “Oh, no, I’m fine I walked here. I’m right up the street at the Bretonnerie.”
Jack immediately jumped at the opportunity. “Well, you’re my last meeting of the day and Angelique will close up everything else after I leave. May I walk you back to your hotel?” Why the hell did I just offer that? I never walk a client home or even offer them rides!
Clara was stunned at his sudden offer. “Um...yes...yes, I guess that would be fine. It would be nice to chat a bit more on the walk.”
“Well, it’s settled then. Just let me tell Angelique we’re headed out.”
Clara watched Jack walk past her and peek around the door. “Angelique! I’m headed out for the night; I’ll be walking Miss Reilly back to her hotel.”
“You know, it really isn’t necessary its only...” Clara began but Jack cut her off.
“No, no, it’s my pleasure Clara. Your hotel happens to be on my way home anyway. We can talk more about what exactly our plan is.”
She decided it wasn’t worth arguing about. After all, it was only a few blocks away and then he’d be out of her hair.
After locking up his office, closing a few wings, and setting some alarms on the way down to the front gate, they began to short trek back to the Bretonnerie. Clara soaked up the smells of the boulangeries, the sounds of beautiful accordion music coming from balconies, and the street lined with pots of lavender and fragrant flowers. She couldn’t wait to try one of the small bistros for dinner and get a taste of real French food. Jack caught a glance of Clara’s face and how lit up it was in the sun. She looked as if she couldn’t get enough of the sights and sounds around her. He caught her closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath. He let out a small chuckle, remembering himself in her when he first arrived in Paris. Now, it was like any other city he lived in, only with a bit of a language barrier on occasion. Something about the joy on her face, her plump lip gloss-covered lips and her delicate smile made his heart warm. When she opened her eyes, he quickly glanced back at the street, pretending he wasn’t admiring her.
“Can I ask you something?”
That broke Jack out of his warm trance. “Hmm? Yes?”
“Danton. Are you any relation to...” she trailed off.
Jack let out a small chuckle. “Georges Danton? Yes. He was my great-great-great-great ... however many greats — I think that’s the one, grandfather. Sixth great-grandfather.”
Clara’s eyes lit up again. “Oh, wow! Being the sixth great-grandson of one of the most prominent men in French history? I mean, being one of the key players of the Revolution, France wouldn’t be what it is today without his help.”
This time Jack let out a hearty laugh. “He’d probably be glad to hear you say that, but many others not so much. He left very little writings or anything behind himself so his character is up for debate. All we have are secondhand accounts of him.”
“Oh, well, that is unfortunate.” She sighed. “But at least you know your history. I wish I knew mine.”
They were close to the hotel by this point, and Jack stopped and looked at her. “Clara, I know the university and your publisher is on you about this, but why your history? Surely it could be anyone else.”
“I know. I mean, they said it needed to mine to show students and others they can find their history themselves. But it’s more than that. I’ve wanted to know for so long where I came from. Why my family holds it so secret. And I was hoping...” she picked up the locket from her neck which fell into her dress. “...that I could find out what this is. I’ve tried opening it for years. All I can make out on the front is the fleur-de-lis and there’s something on the back. I figured it must have come from somewhere here in France with the research I was able to dig up.”
Jack almost bowled over. His head was rushing. Was that her locket? The locket the government and the archives had been searching for centuries? He had to get her to let him take a closer look.
“Where...did you get that?” he said almost breathlessly.
“What? My locket? Oh, it’s been passed down for who knows how long in my family. It was given to every first-born woman until it reached my grandfather. He was the only child, so it went to him. Then for some reason he never gave it to my mom, but he gave it to me.”
Now he had to see her again, for his own gain and to make Marc look like a fool, but also because he couldn’t bare not to stare into those gorgeous eyes again.
He tried to sound not too interested, but inside he was dying to get his hands on it. “That sounds lovely, Clara. Why don’t you bring it by the office when we go over the documents and I can help you figure it out.”
“Really? You would?”
“Of course. That’s what I’m here for. Now, give me a few days and I’ll give you a call when I have more information.”
“Ok, I’ll be waiting. I plan on doing some sightseeing and some other research myself so maybe I’ll see you around. Any bistros you’d recommend?”
Jack wasn’t sure he was reading the signals right, but it seemed like Clara was making small talk so he wouldn’t have to leave so soon. He found it kind of endearing.
“I’m glad you asked. It’s not every day a woman asks me my favorite spots. There’s Le Bistrot Pop on Avenue de la République, and the Bistrot Marguerite is a bit close by. And of course, you can’t come to Paris without eating at Jules Verne in the Eiffel Tower.”
“The Jules Verne? I couldn’t. Not on my salary. Well, I mean, I do make good money, but I don’t see most of it. So much of it goes to paying off my student loans, the credit cards my ex ran up, helping my mother since my dad took off...” Clara realized she was rambling and quickly shut up.
Jack smiled. “I get it. I pay quite a bit in student loans as well and living in Paris isn’t cheap. Maybe one day you’ll get to go there.”
“Yeah...” she bowed her head sadly. “Maybe one day...” She decided to quickly change the subject. “Look, Mr. Danton, it was really nice to meet you and it was kind of you to walk me home, but I’ve had such a long day from my flight and I’m awfully tired. I’d like to get some dinner quickly and head to bed.”
His face was stoic, hiding the fact he was the one who didn’t want to leave. “I’m sorry Clara I forgot about your long flight. You go and get some rest and I’ll call you soon.”
With that he grabbed her hand and kissed it gently. Redness spread through her cheeks. He turned and walked away leaving her in front of the hotel.