Maggie & John: A Modern Love Story-Chapter 6

April 9th, 2012 is probably an insignificant date for most of you, but for me it is a date that has loomed larger and larger over my head as time has gone on. Why? Because it was the last time I posted a chapter of Maggie & John: A Modern Love Story. I know first hand, the anxious anticipation of waiting for the next chapter of a fanfic you’re reading. And I also know the feeling as that anticipation turns to worry that the next chapter may never come. So I want to say thank you to those who have asked about the story over the course of these several months. Thanks for showing your continued interest, but also your patience as I tried to get over my writer’s block. I really hope this chapter was worth the wait!

Many thanks to UK Expat for picking up as my beta after all this time. Thank you also to Zan and ItsJSforMe, not only do they find my numerous mistakes, but they are a never ending source of encouragement when I’m unsure about what I’ve written.

And finally, before we get to the actual chapter. The previous chapters can all be found here if you need a refresher or if you’re just finding the story.

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Chapter 6

Maggie released a sigh of contentment as she settled into her seat on the RER train that would take them back to Paris. It had been a wonderful day of sightseeing as they toured the Palace of Versailles and its stunning grounds. Closing her eyes she thought back over the day.

Upon their arrival at the Palace of Versailles, she and Bessie had started with the Palace itself, working their way through the Royal chapel, the state apartments of the king and queen, the Hall of Mirrors and even the coronation room. As they’d taken everything in, Maggie had been overwhelmed by the sheer opulence of every single room. It was hard to believe that the château, as it was called, had started out as Louis XIII’s hunting lodge.

Having seen enough of the château, the girls made the half an hour walk to the Grand Trianon. While the palace was breathtaking, Maggie’s favorite part had been the Buffet d’eau, also known as the Cascade.  The cascading water and multicolored marble ornaments made it a magnificent sight to behold. From there they visited the Petite Trianon—just another lavish palace, Maggie and Bessie both agreed—and finally on to Marie Antoinette’s Hamlet.

It was the Hamlet and it’s surrounds that captivated Maggie most. In comparison to the extravagance they had come to expect throughout the course of the day, the Hamlet was a refreshing site. The Queen’s house along with the mill, farm and several other buildings seemed to belong, as though they had been built as a complement to the natural surroundings.

A stop for lunch at a café within the grounds provided the girls with an unexpected surprise. While enjoying their sandwiches, a voice called out, “Bessie Higgins, is that you?” Bessie had jumped from her seat to embrace the newcomer.

As Maggie quickly learned, Ann Latimer had been a childhood friend of Bessie’s, but coming from a wealthy family, she’d been sent off to boarding school in Switzerland. Having just matriculated, she too was touring the continent before starting at university in the fall.

Ann had joined them that afternoon, as they wandered through the gardens, taking in the various statues and fountains and even lounging in the grass as they enjoyed the sunshine and warmth.

Overall it had been a splendid day, but as Maggie’s recollections drew to a close, she couldn’t help but think with anticipation of the evening ahead. Opening her eyes, she looked at the two girls, deep in conversation, seated across from her. It had been a joy to watch as Bessie and Ann rekindled their friendship.

“Maggie,” Ann turned to look at her. “We were just talking about going dancing tonight. You will come, right?”

“I would love to,” began Maggie, “but I already have plans for dinner.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Bessie was practically bouncing in her seat with excitement. “I assume you are having dinner with John again.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. We were going to invite you along, but if you’d rather go dancing with Ann…” Maggie trailed off.

“I see how it is,” Bessie laughed knowingly. “Don’t you worry, Maggie. Anne and I will have a fabulous evening and you can have John all to yourself.”

Maggie laughed at the wink Bessie sent her way.  As much as she enjoyed spending time with Bessie and now Ann as well, she couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through her at the thought of spending the evening alone with John. Unthinkingly, she reached up and ran her thumb across her lips as she thought of the kiss they had shared the previous night. It had been tender and sweet, but the spark of passion that passed between them had been undeniable. The promise in that kiss made her even more grateful that fate had been kind enough to place Ann Latimer in their path.

Soon the train was slowing at the station where they were to change trains. Ann said her temporary goodbyes as she headed for her own lodgings to freshen up. Maggie and Bessie went to board the train that would take them back to the Volontaires Metro stop and their hostel. Once again seated, Maggie turned to Bessie, “So, where are you and Ann headed tonight?”

Bessie’s eyes lit up as she began, “We’re going to dinner and then out to a club! One of Ann’s friends from boarding school went last summer and said it was fab. She said the music was great and the place was full of hot guys!”

Maggie couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s enthusiasm. “It sounds like you two will have a wonderful time,” Maggie said. Not wanting to sound like an old maid, but wanting to look out for her friend she continued, “Just make sure that the two of you stick together and watch your drinks. Okay?”

“Yes mother,” Bessie teased.

“Bessie,” Maggie responded with mock solemnity.

“Really Maggie, we’ll be careful,” Bessie promised.

Bessie, certain she’d allayed her friends worries changed the subject. “So,” she started with a teasing grin, “what do you think you and John will do tonight?”

Blushing slightly, Maggie answered, “The plan is to meet at his hotel and go out to dinner.”

“Is that all?” Bessie asked with an exaggerated emphasis on the word all.

“I have no idea what you’re getting at!” Maggie exclaimed, laugher ringing in her voice.

“Sure you don’t,” Bessie playfully mocked.

Arriving at Volontaires, they exited the train and made their way back to the hostel to shower and get ready for their respective nights out. Soon after they were ready, Ann arrived and the three walked in the direction of John’s hotel. “Have fun,” Ann said as they began to go their separate ways.

“Yeah,” Bessie winked, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Have fun girls,” Maggie responded, “and I’ll be expecting a full report on all the cute boys you meet!”

With that, she entered the foyer and went straight to the front desk. “Hello, I’m meeting someone staying here. Can you call his room?” Maggie asked. After giving John’s room number and her name to the attendant at the front desk she found a seat and waited for John to join her.

***

A smile crept across John’s face as he saw her sitting in the lobby of his hotel. Her small, elegant hands were busy smoothing the skirt of her flowery sundress, in what looked to him to be a nervous gesture. She looked so beautiful, her wavy red hair cascading over her shoulders. In the few spare moments he’d had that day, his thoughts had returned repeatedly to the kiss they had shared the night before. It had been chaste, but the feelings it sent coursing through his blood made him long for another.

Pulling himself from his reverie, he walked towards her. The smile that spread across her face and brightened her eyes as she saw him was a gift he hoped to receive often. “Where’s Bessie this evening?” he asked, although truth be told, he was relieved to see that he would have Maggie to himself for the evening.

“We ran into an old friend of hers at Versailles today,” Maggie began to explain as John held out his hand to help her from her chair. “They decided to go out dancing tonight. Have you ever met Ann Latimer?”

“Ann Latimer?” John’s voice was colored with surprise. “I’ve never met her, but I know the name well enough. Her father is the CEO of the bank my company does business with.”

“It really is a small world.” Maggie responded as they exited the hotel and began walking down the sidewalk.

“I didn’t know Bessie knew any of the Latimers,” John thought aloud.

“They were friends at school before Ann went off to boarding school,” Maggie filled him in.

“Well, that makes sense,” John conceded.

They walked in companionable silence down the streets of Paris, Maggie’s hand still nested inside of John’s. “Oh look,” Maggie’s voice was excited.

“It’s beautiful at night isn’t it?” John asked as he too took in the magnificent sight of the Eiffel tower, lit up at night.

“It really is stunning,” Maggie was at a loss for words.

Continuing on, Maggie finally asked, “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

John gave her a sheepish grin as he said, “I hope you like duck.”

“What if I don’t?” she challenged.

“I would cancel the reservation and we could go somewhere else,” he hoped that was the right answer.

Maggie laughed and he breathed a sigh of relief. “You are in luck, as it happens, I do like duck. Is that the restaurant’s specialty?” she wanted to know.

“It is,” he said pausing at the door to a charming little restaurant called Au Petit Sud Ouest. “We can step inside and see what tonight’s specials are.”

With a hand cradled at the small of Maggie’s back, he led her into the restaurant. The stone walls, dim lighting and metallic and jewel toned tablecloths gave the place a cozy, intimate feel. Once seated, they looked at the specials of the day. John decided on the duck breast with mushrooms, while Maggie chose the duck stew. With the help of their waiter, they chose a bottle of Beaumes de Venise, a wine well paired with duck.

John was pleased at how comfortable it was, how right it felt sitting with Maggie, chatting about their days. She told him about her time at Versailles, how she loved the smell of the grass as she laid there, listening the trickling water of one of the fountains. He told her about his meeting with a supplier and how he’d secured a deal for items desired by a chain of boutique hotels back in England.

When their food came, she reached over with her spoon and helped herself to one of his mushrooms. The flickering light from the candle glistened on the strands of honey gold and auburn in her red hair distracting John. He almost missed the cheeky grin when she said, “I figured after dinner last night you are not one of those people who doesn’t share food.”

“No, take whatever you want,” he heard himself reply.

“Would you like to try mine?” Maggie asked.

“I would, but I don’t have a spoon,” he said, one eyebrow raising suggestively. He almost choked when she lifted the spoon from her bowl and offered him a mouthful of the savory stew. The twinkle in Maggie’s eye told him she knew he’d been caught off guard, but quickly recovering, he sliced a bite of his duck and lifted it to her mouth. As her lips wrapped around the tines, he knew they were playing a dangerous game. She was beautiful, intelligent, sensual, sweet and funny. Exactly the kind of woman he would have looked for if ever he’d had the time.

Dinner continued in a sensual haze. Lingering glances were exchanged as John and Maggie continued to feed one another. Soon their plates were being cleared and the last dregs of wine were finished off. Once the bill was taken care of, they stepped out into the sultry nighttime air of Paris.

“Do you trust me?” John asked, his hand once again placed gently in the small of Maggie’s back as he guided her to a taxi.

She was surprised by the question, but felt no hesitation in replying, “Of course I do.”

Helping Maggie slide into the vehicle, John slipped in beside her, one arm coming to rest along her shoulders. The strength and warmth of him lured her in as she snuggled into the crook of his arm. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going, or is it a surprise?” She asked, not really caring about the destination, as long as they were together.

“To Quai Saint-Bernard,” he explained, “there is live music in the evenings during the summer months. I happened upon it by accident once, but I enjoy going there.”

“It sounds lovely,” she said, smiling up at him.

The taxi ride passed quickly and soon the vehicle was pulling to a stop alongside the Seine. John paid the driver before escorting Maggie from the vehicle. The rhythmic strains of a seductive Latin tune drifted from a little farther down the bank. Wanting to get closer, Maggie reached for John’s hand, pulling him along in the direction of the music.

Maggie came to a halt at the sight before her. All along the embankment were couples dancing. “Did you know there was dancing as well as music?”

“Yes, but we can just watch and listen if you’d prefer,” he offered.

“Is that the tango?” Maggie queried.

“Yes, it is,” John answered, not quite meeting her eyes.

“John, do you know how to tango,” the excitement in her voice made him look up.

“I do. My mother made me take dance lessons as a boy. The waltz, the foxtrot, and of course the tango.”

“You can teach me!” Her enthusiasm tugged at his heart and he went willingly as she wound her way through the throng to find an opening.

Standing face to face, John pulled Maggie into his arms. Directing her left hand midway down his right arm, he then grasped her right hand with his left, before placing his right hand on her left shoulder blade. “This is called the frame,” he explained as those sparkling green eyes focused intently on him. “Just try to follow me. If I step backward with my left foot, you step forward with your right. You just mirror my movements.”

“Okay, I’ll try,” Maggie sounded unsure of herself.

As far as John was concerned it wouldn’t matter if she were the worst dancer in the world as long as she was in his arms. He started off slow, ignoring the music altogether as he tried to get Maggie comfortable with the steps.  Forward with the left, forward with the right, a smaller step with the left, a quick step to the right and finally a slow drag of the left foot towards the right before repeating the steps all over again.

“I’m so sorry, John,” Maggie blushed as she stepped on his toes. All in all he thought she was doing well and the longer they danced, the more comfortable she became, her body becoming in tune with his as he led her around the Quai.

The song changed to a slower tango that was perfect for a beginner and John effortlessly changed the pace of their movements to match that of the song. Their eyes locked as they lost themselves in the seductive music, the feel of one another’s arms and the joint movements of their bodies. It was like nothing John had ever experienced with any of his dance partners before. He could only hope that Maggie felt it too.

When the song came to an end, he couldn’t bring himself to release her, instead leaning in for a kiss. A swift brush of his lips against hers was all he intended, but when her hand tightened on his arm, he released her right hand and pulled her in closer. Lips met as her tiny fingers fisted in the hair at the nape of his neck. His tongue snuck out, seeking entrance to her mouth and her gasp of surprise gave him what he sought. Relief flooded John’s body as Maggie’s tongue tentatively stroked against his own. Her initial hesitance convinced him that she was probably as inexperienced as he. Not that he was a total novice, but it had been years since he’d kissed a woman, and never quite like this.

Tittering and the call of, “Hé hé hé, on dirait que quelqu’un se sent la passion du tango!” reminded John of where exactly they were. Slowly, and with reluctance, he released Maggie’s lips, although he kept her firmly in his arms.

She leaned up to whisper in his ear, “Do you know what that person was saying about us?”

“I got the gist, something about feeling the passion of the tango,” he admitted, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. Much to his surprise, Maggie threw her head back and laughed.

“John, we’re in Paris, dancing the tango by the river Seine. If this isn’t the time to feel passion, I don’t know when is,” the joy in her voice was infectious and a smile stretched across his face.

They remained for a while longer, John teaching her a few more intricate steps as the music played and the couples around them moved. Finally exhausted, and sweating from their exertions, they ambled through the crowd and down the street to the nearest taxi stand. Climbing into first one available, John gave the driver the address of Maggie’s hostel, before relaxing into the seat and pulling Maggie against his chest.

As the taxi maneuvered through the busy streets, Maggie turned to look up at John. “Thank you for tonight. I can’t recall the last time I had this much fun.”

His smile was luminescent as he said, “Oh, I don’t know. You’ve been having fun with Bessie.”

“I have, but it isn’t quite the same,” she said before pressing her lips to his.

His arm snuck around her waist and pulled her closer as the kiss continued. This time it was Maggie who sought to deepen the kiss, her tongue slipping past John’s teeth to coax his. The kiss was slow, unhurried and sensual—an expression of their delight in being together, in the pleasure that comes with mutual attraction and growing esteem.

Soon the taxi pulled up in front of the hostel and the two found themselves standing off to the side of the doors. As if she belonged there, Maggie snaked her arms around John’s waist, her head pressed under his chin. “Will I get to see you tomorrow?”

“Actually, I found out just before you arrived tonight, that my meeting for tomorrow has been cancelled,” he said, his voice hopeful. “If you don’t have any objections, maybe I could join you and Bessie for the day.”

“Of course you can,” came Maggie’s immediate response. “Is it a serious setback for you that your meeting was cancelled?”

“No, not really,” John began to explain. “It is a small, startup family export business that is looking to do business in England. The grandfather passed away unexpectedly today. Naturally, the family is grieving as well as trying to plan a funeral.”

“That is heartbreaking,” Maggie said, thinking of the pain she had felt upon the death of her mother.

“It is, and I know that on top of the grief, they were sorry to have to cancel our meeting. But I’ll make sure to meet with them next time I’m in Paris,” John responded.

Maggie couldn’t help but think back to their first meeting and how wrong her first impression of the man had been. He had a kind heart.

“Anyway,” John said, as he stroked his hand down Maggie’s glossy red tresses, “what is the plan for tomorrow?”

“Well,” Maggie said, her nose scrunching in concentration, “the plan was to visit the Eiffel tower, stuff ourselves on the Rue Cler, do the tour of Paris’s sewer system—I haven’t mentioned that to Bessie, so it might not happen—and visit The Museum of the Shoah.”

“The plan was?” John interjected.

“Bessie and I have two days left here. So I thought you might be more interested in what we have planned for the other day. We could easily shift the plans around.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” John said, kissing the top of her head. “What is the alternate plan?”

“The Paris catacombs, the outdoor market on Rue Mouffetard, Montmartre, the Moulin Rouge, and Pere-Lachaise Graveyard,” she listed off.

“Catacombs and a graveyard?” John asked with humor in his voice.

“They’re interesting,” Maggie said. “Did you know that Chopin, de Balzac, Edith Piaf and even Oscar Wilde are buried in Pere-Lachaise?”

“I do now,” John said. “If you really don’t mind shifting your schedule around, I think I’d prefer option two.”

“Are you sure? Even though it includes catacombs and a cemetery,” Maggie teased.

“Especially because of those,” John replied. “When should I be here in the morning?”

“The catacombs open at 10, so do you want to meet us around nine? We could grab some breakfast on our way,” Maggie suggested.

“I’ll be here at nine,” John said, before reluctantly adding, “I’m looking forward to spending my last day in Paris with you.”

“Oh,” the disappointed look on Maggie’s face sent a surge of hope coursing through John. Maybe there was hope she wouldn’t forget him after he returned to England.

“I didn’t realize,” Maggie whispered.

“Don’t think about it right now,” John lifted her chin, so her eyes met his. “Let’s just enjoy tomorrow.” Leaning down he pressed his lips briefly to Maggie’s. “I should go, but I’ll be here at nine tomorrow morning.” With one last kiss he released her before strolling down the street towards his hotel.

Maggie stood there watching until he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.

All I never knew I wanted to know about cotton. I blame Mr. Thornton!

Living on the edge of the suburbs, subdivisions are commingled with farmland. Step outside the house and you can hear cows mooing in the field behind our subdivision. Drive to the grocery store and you pass numerous fields. The primary crop where I live–cotton.

This time of year almost every field looks like this:

 

Having lived most of my life elsewhere, I find the cotton fields beautiful. Every time you end up behind a semi carrying cotton it looks as though it is snowing as loose pieces float past, sometimes even necessitating windshield wipers.

 

 

 

Today I was out running errands and found myself behind a truck headed to the local cotton gin, located 2 miles from my house. As we drove, I looked at the flying cotton and then the truck sized bales of cotton outside the gin, to the haze around the gin itself.

 

 

With so much cotton around me, my thoughts naturally turned to North & South, Mr. Thornton and his busy cotton mill. I think I’m going to have to have a rewatch soon.

All of this made me curious though.

I learned about Eli Whitney and his cotton gin as a child, but knew nothing about the modern processing of cotton.

Those bales of cotton, it turns out are actually called, modules. These can weigh up to 10 metric tons (over 22,000 pounds). The compression used to build the modules helps reduce the number of trucks required to transport cotton from the field to the gin. There are module builders that are separate from the picker or picker/module combination equipment.

 

Once the modules are built they are transported to the gin. The view outside our local cotton gin looks something like the picture to the right.

 
 

Now we get to the processing of the cotton:

The modules are loaded into the  module feeder of the gin.

“The cotton then enters a dryer, which removes excess moisture. The cylinder cleaner uses six or seven rotating, spiked cylinders to break up large clumps of cotton. Finer foreign material, such as soil and leaves, passes through rods or screens for removal. The stick machine uses centrifugal force to remove larger foreign matter, such as sticks and burrs, while the cotton is held by rapidly rotating saw cylinders. The gin stand uses the teeth of rotating saws to pull the cotton through a series of “ginning ribs”, which pull the fibers from the seeds which are too large to pass through the ribs.”

 
 

What is left is the lint. This is once again compressed into bales, weighing about 500 pounds. The value of the bales is tested based on ”fiber length (staple), strength, micronaire, color and cleanness.” At this point the cotton is usually sold to a local merchant who in turn sells it to a textile mill.

 
 

Were John Thornton around today, this is probably where he and his mill would take possession.

So there you have it. I now know way more than I ever thought I’d want to about the harvesting and ginning of cotton. I blame you Richard Armitage and your character John Thornton! Well, and maybe also the fact that I live in cotton country.

All of my info is courtesy of:

• Wikipedia’s Cotton Gin page
• The Story of Cotton
• Images from Google Images

North and South Global Watch

I know several other bloggers have put up reminders, but here is my contribution. Don’t forget the global North and South watch this weekend!

It’s not the American cover, but I like it better!

Here are the scheduled start times according to Armitage Watch:

Prime Time USA

USA East Coast June 1, 2012	USA West Coast June 1, 2012	United Kingdom 2 June 2012	Australia NSW 2 June 2012
Ep 1    8 PM	5:00 PM	1:00 AM	10:00 AM
Ep 2    9 PM	6:00 PM	2:00 AM	11:00 AM
Ep 3  10 PM	7:00 PM	3:00 AM	12:00 PM
Ep 4  11 PM	8:00 PM	4:00 AM	1:00 PM

Evening USA

USA East Coast June 2, 2012	USA West Coast June 2, 2012	United Kingdom 2/3 June 2012	Australia NSW 3 June 2012
Ep 1    6 PM	3:00 PM	11:00 PM	8:00 AM
Ep 2    7 PM	4:00 PM	12:00 AM	9:00 AM
Ep 3    8 PM	5:00 PM	1:00 AM	10:00 AM
Ep 4    9 PM	6:00 PM	2:00 AM	11:00 AM

Evening Australia

USA East Coast June 2, 2012	USA West Coast June 1, 2012	United Kingdom 2 June 2012	Australia NSW 3 June 2012
Ep 1  4 AM	1:00 AM	9:00 AM	6:00 PM
Ep 2  5 AM	2:00 AM	10:00 AM	7:00 PM
Ep 3  6 AM	3:00 AM	11:00 AM	8:00 PM
Ep 4  7 AM	4:00 AM	12:00 PM	9:00 PM

Evening UK

USA East Coast June 2, 2012	USA West Coast June 2, 2012	United Kingdom 2 June 2012	Australia NSW  3 June 2012
Ep 1  2 PM	11:00 AM	7:00 PM	4:00 AM
Ep 2  3 PM	12:00 PM	8:00 PM	5:00 AM
Ep 3  4 PM	1:00 PM	9:00 PM	6:00 AM
Ep 4  5 PM	2:00 PM	10:00 PM	7:00 AM

Evening UK

USA East Coast June 3, 2012	USA West Coast June 3, 2012	United Kingdom 3 June 2012	Australia NSW 4 June 2012
Ep 1  12 PM	9:00 AM	5:00 PM	2:00 AM
Ep 2  1 PM	10:00 AM	6:00 PM	3:00 AM
Ep 3  2 PM	11:00 AM	7:00 PM	4:00 AM
Ep 4  3 PM	12:00 PM	8:00 PM	5:00 AM

If  you plan on participating via Twitter, don’t forget your hashtag: #RichardArmitageNS

I hope to see lots of fellow Armitage admirers this evening via Twitter! I’ll be sticking with TweetDeck, but if you are interested, TweetChat has been suggested for keeping up with the conversation. After all who wouldn’t want to watch John Thornton with a bunch of their online buddies?

Update: I had sooo much fun tonight! I would encourage everyone to try and join the group watch at one of the remaining scheduled times–even if you can’t watch all 4 hours in one sitting.

Maggie & John: A Modern Love Story-Chapter 5

As promised, here is the next chapter of Maggie and John: A Modern Love Story. Writing this chapter involved a lot of research, some of which I thought I would share. So, once you’ve read the chapter, I hope you enjoy the slideshow of artwork underneath.

If you are just finding this story and what to read from the beginning, links to the other chapters can be found here.

I want to say a huge thank you to Jael, UK Expat and Dhana for reading this chapter ahead of time and giving me corrections and suggestions. Ladies, you’re feedback is invaluable.

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Chapter 5

Maggie rolled over, her eyes slowly opening and focusing on her surroundings.

“Come on sleepy head,” she heard Bessie saying, “we have a full day ahead of us.”
“How can you be so perky this early in the morning?” Maggie complained, as she tried to stifle her yawn.

“Oh, I’m used to being up early,” Bessie answered, “After my mum died, I had to make sure Dad and my sister Mary had breakfast, plus I had to pack lunches.”

“That would explain it,” Maggie responded with a smile. Looking Bessie over, she realized that the girl was already dressed and ready to go. “Give me five minutes and we can head to breakfast,” she said, hurrying out of bed.

True to her word, five minutes later the girls locked their room and found the breakfast room. Saying hello to their fellow travelers, they found the buffet table. Grabbing a bottle of water and croissant each, they decided to make the most of their time by eating while they made the hour long walk to the Louvre.

Arriving a few minutes before opening time, Maggie and Bessie entered the museum through the glass pyramid, and quickly joined the ticket queue. “How much is the ticket, Maggie?” Bessie asked, “I want to have the right amount ready.”

Laughing good naturedly at her friend, Maggie responded, “You really didn’t do much research for this trip, did you Bessie?”

“No,” Bessie responded, “Why?”

“Oh,” Maggie sighed dramatically before continuing, “Because we don’t have to pay anything. We’re both under 25 and we live in the EU. All we’ll have to do is show them our passports and we’ll receive our tickets for free.”

“That’s awesome, Maggie!” Bessie enthused. “I’m so glad that I have you. I would have just paid otherwise, and I’m sure they wouldn’t have told me I could tour the museum for free.”

“I’m sure you’re right about that,” Maggie agreed.

Reaching the ticket counter, Maggie and Bessie presented their passports and just as Maggie said, received their tickets free of charge, along with a map of the museum. As they walked away from the counter, Maggie reached into her purse and pulled out two printed pages and a highlighter. “Bessie, can we sit down for a minute to figure this out?”

“Sure. What exactly is there to figure out?” Bessie wondered.

“Well, I found a three hour tour online. The directions said it wouldn’t make sense until we had the museum map. I thought we could transfer the tour onto the map,” Maggie explained.

“You are on top of this!” Bessie observed with a slight note of awe in her voice.

After a few minutes of highlighting the map, the girls were ready to tour the museum. Following the map they ascended to the first floor of the museum and headed in the direction of the Mona Lisa. “Are we going the right way?” Bessie asked after a few minutes.

“Yes, look. There is the Borghese Gladiator,” Maggie pointed, “It is a point of reference on the tour.”

“Maggie, I think I need a picture with the gladiator.” Bessie said as she handed Maggie her camera.

Maggie tried to stifle her laugh as Bessie mimicked the pose of the statue. After snapping a couple of pictures, she handed the camera back to Bessie and they continued on.

Pausing to view the Winged Victory of Samothrace, both were impressed by the exquisite detail on the sculpture’s wings. Continuing on, they reached the queue to see the Mona Lisa. Bessie remarked, “Its good we headed here first. I can’t imagine how long the queue will be later in the day.”

Maggie nodded her head in agreement.

When they got close enough to see the painting, Bessie leaned over to whisper in Maggie’s ear, “I don’t know what all the fuss is about. It isn’t that pretty and is way smaller than I thought it would be.”

“I know what you mean,” Maggie responded, “but at least we can say we’ve seen it.”

Exiting the room they followed the map and entered the Apollo Gallery. Little of the artwork drew their attention, but Maggie and Bessie were both drawn to the crown jewels. After a few minutes of admiring the jewels they continued on, meticulously following their three hour tour. Finding their way through the 19th century, 17th century and the Renaissance exhibits, they arrived at the apartments of Napoleon III.

“Have you ever seen anything so opulent?” Maggie breathed.

“No,” Bessie sighed, “How many people do you think can sit at that table?”

Briefly perusing her brochure, Maggie replied, “This says forty people.”

Walking further along, Bessie couldn’t help her giggle as she asked, “How many crystal chandeliers did he need?”

“Well he had to light up all of those beautiful paintings on the ceiling,” answered a giggling Maggie.

Next they went in search of the Lacemaker. After looking at the exquisite painting, Bessie noticed the signs pointing towards the French collection. “Should we go look that way?” she queried.

“No, we don’t have time since we are meeting John for lunch,” Maggie said with a blush.

“Are you blushing, Miss Hale?” Bessie teased.

Ignoring Bessie’s question, Maggie kept walking. She had been trying the whole morning not to think about their upcoming picnic and afternoon with John. Whenever her thoughts strayed to him, she found herself disconcerted by how drawn she was to him. While she had had one fairly serious boyfriend, never had she experienced such strong feelings so quickly. Pulling her thoughts back to the present, Maggie realized that she and Bessie had arrived at the Mesopotamian exhibit. “This is what I’ve been most excited to see,” Maggie shared.

Making their way around the exhibit they lingered most at the Code of Hammurabi and the Winged Bull from the Palace of Sargon II. “I had no idea the bull was so big,” Maggie marveled. “Will you take my picture next to it, Bess?”

“Let’s see if we can get someone to take our picture together.” Bessie said and proceeded to ask the person closest to them.

Having seen their fill of the exhibit, they consulted the map and went in search of the Venus de Milo. Consulting her watch, Maggie said in a pleased voice, “We’re making great time! I wasn’t sure we would have time for the last part of the tour.”

Taking the stairs down, they toured the original foundation of the Louvre, which dated back to medieval times. Finished with their tour, they returned to the lobby and exited through the glass pyramid.

“That was wonderful,” Bessie enthused, “Although I’m glad you had a plan, I think we would have been lost in there otherwise.”

“You’re probably right, there’s just so much to see.” Maggie responded.

“Which way is the next museum?” Bessie asked.

Pointing, Maggie said, “The l’Orangerie is that building over there, on the other side of the garden.”

“Let’s go,” Bessie said with a twinkle in her eye, “after all, you wouldn’t want to keep John waiting.”

With that said, Bessie skipped off in the direction Maggie had pointed her. As much as she would like to deny it, Maggie had to admit to herself that there was a lot of truth in her friend’s words. She was looking forward to seeing John and spending the rest of the day in his company.

*************************

John breathed a sigh of relief as he settled into his seat on the Metro. His morning meetings had thankfully, ended earlier than expected, giving him plenty of time to visit his favorite boulangerie and the closest open air market. He had spent longer than he thought procuring, what he hoped would be, the perfect picnic lunch. Laughing to himself, he could not help but admit that this was a new experience for him. Never before in his 27 years had he so desperately wanted to impress a woman—with the exception of his mother.

His morning meetings had seemed torturously long. Try as he might to stay focused, his thoughts inevitable drifted to Maggie. How was she enjoying the Louvre? What were her favorite exhibits? Was she thinking of him at all? Did her heart race when she thought of spending the afternoon with him?

Arriving at the Metro station Tuileries, John hurried off the train and up to ground level. He quickly made his way to the entrance of the Musée de l’Orangerie, their agreed upon meeting spot. While anticipating Maggie and Bessie’s arrival, John mindlessly paced back and forth. Looking up, he saw Bessie skipping in his direction, with Maggie closely following behind. “Are you sure you’re not still twelve?” he teased Bessie.

“I’m just enjoying life, John” she quipped, “Maybe you should give it a try.”

Catching Maggie’s eye, John replied in a husky tone, “I intend to, Bessie.”

Her eyes widening at the meaning behind his words, Maggie’s thoughts fled. After a few moments she found her voice, “Our picnic and afternoon at the museums sound like the perfect place for you to start.”

“Let’s go pick out a spot to eat,” Bessie said over her shoulder, as she was already off, in search of the perfect spot.

Catching up with her, John and Maggie joined her in the grass. Bessie, in her enthusiasm, grabbed the bag from John and began pulling out all of the items he had purchased—ham and cheese sandwiches on crusty baguettes, perfectly ripe strawberries, marinated olives, and a full paper sack, which John pulled away before she could look.

“What are you doing?” Bessie asked.

“Saving the best for last, of course!” was John’s light hearted remark.

Grabbing a bottle of water, Maggie took a drink before turning to John. “This all looks fabulous. I don’t know about Bessie, but I’m starving,” she said.

Handing Maggie and Bessie their sandwiches, they all began to eat the delicious food. “Who knew a ham and cheese sandwich could be so good?” Bessie asked of no one in particular.

“Mmm,” John replied around a bite, “We just don’t have bread like this back home.”

“Not even close,” Maggie agreed. Closing her eyes, she savored the salty ham, nutty cheese and crusty bread.

Seeing her thus, John stared at the vision before him, wondering if she had any idea how beautiful she was—with her long porcelain neck elongated and her red hair shimmering in the sunlight. As Maggie opened her eyes, he averted his gaze. “So you two had a good morning, I take it?” he questioned.

“Maggie’s tour had us running all over the museum,” Bessie said, “so we got to see a lot of the highlights.” Knowing John’s appreciation for organization, Bessie continued, “Maggie is so organized John, I wouldn’t have gotten to see nearly as much without her.”

Smiling at this piece of information, John turned his attention to Maggie, “Do you have every moment planned for the other museums as well?”

“Oh no,” she began, “I want to take my time looking at Monet’s water lily paintings. Other than that, I just assumed we would stroll through the paintings by the various Impressionists. Plus, we have more time, since today is Thursday. The Musée d’Orsay is open late.”

Laughing aloud, Bessie remarked, “That’s why we’re doing the museums today, isn’t it?”

Blushing slightly, Maggie confirmed Bessie’s suspicions.

While they continued lunch, Maggie asked John about his morning. He shared a few details—keeping his explanation brief, lest he bore them.

Having devoured their meal, all that was left was John’s mystery bag. “All right Mr. Thornton,” Bessie said in a mock authoritative tone, “We’ve been good and eaten our lunch, so show us what’s in the bag.”

Tearing open the bag, so it could lay flat between them, Bessie and Maggie both hurriedly reached for the chocolate dipped cream puffs. John smiled, having hoped that the chocolate topped dessert would be to Maggie’s liking. “These are from my favorite patisserie in Paris,” he shared, as he popped one of the delectable sweets into his own mouth.

Finished with dessert, they disposed of their trash and made their way to the l’Orangerie. After acquiring their tickets, John asked, “Should we go see the water lilies first, or save the best for last?”

“Maggie is most excited about seeing those, so we should leave it up to her,” Bessie suggested.

“Maggie?” both John and Bessie queried.

“If neither of you mind, could we see the lilies last?” she tentatively asked, “That way we won’t feel like we have to hurry to see the rest of the museum.”

Offering her a heart-melting smile, John responded, “Your wish is our command.”

All in agreement, they climbed to the top floor of the museum to work their way down. Strolling leisurely among the artwork, they took turns pointing out what appealed to them.

As much as John enjoyed looking at the works of Renoir, Gauguin and Cezanne—among others—he preferred to watch Maggie. Frequently, her nose would scrunch, causing crinkles between her eyebrows. While he found this quirk adorable, it also proved to be her tell, as each time this happened she would tell them how much she liked the work of art. Upon reaching Renoir’s La Seine à Champrosay, she stopped to admire the painting. “This is one of my favorite works by Renoir,” John whispered in her ear, “I’ve always preferred the paintings of nature to those of people.” His heart stuttered as Maggie turned to him with a magnificent smile.

“That is exactly how I feel about his work!” she exclaimed in a hushed voice. “I feel as if I could get lost in the places he painted,” Maggie continued.

As they continued onward through the museum, John wondered what it would be like to frequently be gifted with such smiles. While they were on the second floor of the museum, John came across one of his favorite paintings by Gauguin, Village breton sous la neige. Moving closer towards Maggie, he whispered, “I love this painting. Really, I don’t know why, but something about it makes me think of snuggling up in front of a warm fire.”

“That’s a lovely idea, John,” she said. Deciding to tease him, she continued, “Although, I think I would rather be outside throwing snowballs!”

Leaning in closer still, his lips almost brushing her ear, he whispered, “Perhaps the snuggling by the fire comes after the snowball fight.”

Standing close enough to feel her shiver at his words, John wondered what had possessed him to say something so suggestive. Stepping away, he walked further along through the museum, noting as he went, that it took Maggie a few seconds to recover from their brief conversation. Perhaps, he thought, he wasn’t so bad at flirting after all.

Neither spoke a word as they reached the ground floor of the museum. Both started as Bessie spoke, “Look at this one! The plaque says that it is Bateaux de plaisance, by Monet. Don’t you just want to climb aboard one of those boats and sail the ocean?”

Agreeing with Bessie about the painting—John had almost forgotten that she was there—so wrapped up had he been in the artwork and Maggie.

In truth, Bessie was aware that both John and Maggie had more or less forgotten about her presence. Having kept a slight distance between them and herself, from early on, she had watched with restrained glee, the flirtation and attraction that was right before her eyes. She liked Maggie immensely and John had been good to her family. As far as she knew, he had never really dated, especially not since he took over the family business. Knowing what his life had been like, she wanted him to be happy, and her new friend was just the woman for him, she was sure.

Bessie’s thoughts continued down this path until she heard Maggie’s excited voice, “Just through there are Monet’s Nympheas!” Following her friends through, Bessie was speechless at the sight of the vibrant paintings of water lilies adorning the oval room. Pulling her eyes away from the first painting she looked to see John and Maggie, standing side-by-side, staring in awe at the masterpiece. Deciding that she could observe the painting just as well from one of the benches in the center of the room, Bessie took a seat.

John was astounded by the striking painting before him. He couldn’t believe that he had never made time to come here, on any of his other trips to Paris. Monet’s work was highlighted to perfection in this room.

Casting a glance at Maggie, he saw her look of sheer pleasure as she took in her favorite paintings. “Are they as wonderful as you hoped they’d be?” he tentatively asked, not wanting to disturb her.

“I expected them to be beautiful in person,” she replied, “but I had no idea they would be this spectacular. I’m so glad the museum reopened last month, it would have been a shame to have missed these.”

“I’m glad they exceed your expectations,” John told her, the sincerity in his voice earning him another dazzling smile.

Finding their way to the next room of water lily paintings, they again admired the extraordinary works that Claude Monet had created.

Having looked their fill, the three exited the museum, into the Tuileries Garden. Winding their way through the garden, they crossed the Seine, and set off for the Musée d’Orsay. As they walked, Maggie asked, “Does anyone need a break or something to drink? We could stop for a while if either of you want.”

“I think we should just keep going, Maggie,” Bessie suggested, “We’re making great time today.”

“Let’s go ahead to the museum,” John agreed, “They have a café if we need a break at any point.”

With everyone in agreement, they purchased their tickets and entered the museum. “I don’t know what the two of you want to see,” Maggie started, “I had really only planned to see works by the various Impressionists, but we can look at whatever the two of you want as well.”

“You haven’t led me astray yet,” Bessie said with a smile, “So I’ll go where you go.”

“John, is there anything else you would like to see?” Maggie questioned.

“My taste in art lies almost completely in Impressionism,” he smiled, “it seems we’re well matched.”

Returning his smile and with a gleam in her eye, Maggie responded, “So it would seem.”

Consulting the museum map, Maggie led them to the staircase and up to the top floor. “According to what I’ve read, most of the works by Impressionists are on this floor,” she shared.

Just as they had done in the previous museum, the trio wandered through the various galleries, pointing out pieces which they particularly liked. Both John and Maggie paused to take in Monet’s smaller water lily paintings that were housed in this museum. Looking up at him, Maggie commented, “You would think that I would tire of looking at these lily paintings after a while. But, there is something so beautiful and distinct about each of them.”

“I’ve always thought that each painting gave you an idea of what time of day it was painted,” John responded, “almost as if the colors tell a story.”

Moving to the next gallery, there were several paintings that attracted their attention. “Isn’t that a gorgeous picture?” Bessie gushed. “I can imagine running through that field of flowers, the wind blowing through my hair!”

“You don’t get to do much of that, growing up in Milton, do you?” John wondered aloud.

“I wish you could see where I’m from, Bessie,” Maggie said, “The fields may not be full of those kinds of flowers, but in spring, the grass is tall, the wildflowers are all in bloom and the forest comes alive. You would love it!”

“Well, Maggie,” Bessie replied, while giving John a wink, “I think John and I may have to take that as an invitation to visit you once we’re back in England.”

Laughing at her friend’s cheek, Maggie responded, “You go right ahead and take it that way Bessie. I’m sure my father would love to meet you.” Making eye contact with John, she continued, “Both of you.”

“Look at this one,” John called to them, “Wouldn’t you love to wake up in the morning, step out onto your balcony and have a view like that?”

“Maybe we’ll get the chance on our trip!” Bessie exclaimed, “Maggie, did you find any hostels with a gorgeous view?”

“Not a view like that,” she pondered aloud, “but now that we’re travelling together, we could probably afford to stay in some hotels for around the same price we were paying separately. If we share a room, that is.”

As they moved further through the museum, John tentatively spoke, “I don’t want to overstep my bounds, but my company receives discounts at hotels in many of the places that you’ll be visiting. Seeing how Bessie’s dad is my business partner, they would probably extend the discounts to her as well. Nick and I had discussed it, but it would have been too much for Bessie on her own. However, with the two of you traveling together, the cost would be quite reasonable.”

“Really, John?” Bessie asked, “That would be amazing!”

“That really would be fantastic, John,” Maggie agreed. “Our hostel is nice enough, but I’m starting to wonder if I’m a bit old for hostel living,” she laughed, “I’m not sure about the dirty toilets.”

They all laughed at that, John pointing out that he wasn’t old, so Maggie certainly was not. Progressing forward, Maggie pointed at a painting by Pissarro, “Those colors are so vivid. It reminds me a bit of the forest back home.”

“If your home is that beautiful, we may really have to take you up on that invitation,” John said. “Bessie and I both were born and raised in Milton. While I have traveled throughout Europe for work, it is almost always to cities as well. We’ve not seen much of the country.”

“Then it’s settled,” Maggie stated, “When we’re all back home, you two will come and visit.”

John felt as if he was floating. When Bessie had teased that they should visit Maggie’s home, he had felt embarrassed at the idea of inviting himself to her home. But she had taken Bessie’s teasing in stride, giving him the courage to bring up visiting her home again. He had expected polite acquiescence or teasing, not her insistence upon his visit. He could only hope that the three months between now and her return to England would not change her mind.

Soon they found themselves standing before Monet’s Coquelicots. “This has always been one of my favorite paintings,” Maggie said.

“Did you know that the woman and child in the painting are his family?” John asked.

“I did know,” Maggie answered with a smile, “It makes sense. To put the ones you love into your artwork.”

“I agree,” John replied.

Having finished touring the top floor of the museum, Maggie pulled out the Museum map, looking to see if there was anything else they should see. Finding what she was looking for she said, “There is one more gallery we should see.” With that, she set off, John and Bessie in pursuit.

Arriving at the final gallery they would visit, Maggie and John were both surprised at Bessie’s exclamation, “Oh, I love this painting. I remember seeing it in an art class and for some reason it reminded me of when my dad would read me The Hobbit as a little girl. It looks just like I always pictured, Hobbiton!”

“Now that you mention it,” John began, as he took in Pissarro’s painting, “I can see what you mean. It must be the rolling green hills.” Thinking aloud, John continued, “I haven’t read that book in years, although it was always one of my favorites as a boy.”

“Bessie,” Maggie called, “Come look at this one. Doesn’t it make you anxious to visit the sea?”

“Absolutely,” Bessie gushed, “A nice warm beach, with the sun shining and some cute boys. I can’t wait.”

As the girls laughed, Bessie observed a brief downturn of John’s countenance. After a moment’s thought, she chided herself for the mention of cute boys on the beach. John was clearly worried Maggie might meet someone and forget all about him. He might not know it, but she would be his ally where Maggie was concerned.

Soon they were outside and John checked his watch. “I had no idea we had been in there for so long,” he said.

Hearing this, Maggie looked at her own watch, “We weren’t in there much later than regular closing time, but it’s good we came on the day they’re open late.”

Yawning, Bessie said, “I know it isn’t that late, but I’m looking forward to crawling into bed.”

“Don’t you want to get some dinner first?” John questioned, with an anxious look on his face.

Discerning that he wasn’t ready to depart from Maggie yet, Bessie said, “I was thinking I could take the metro back and grab a crepe from that vendor we went to last night.”

“Bessie, are you sure?” Maggie asked, worried about Bessie going off on her own.

“Of course,” Bessie responded. “I was planning on doing this trip alone, if you remember,” she teased, “So I would have been all alone most of the time.”

“I know a great Ethiopian restaurant, if you are up for something a bit adventurous,” John suggested in a hopeful tone. “It is actually back close to my hotel and the hostel, so we could ride back with Bessie,” he added.

“Ethiopian food,” Maggie deliberated aloud. Debating whether or not she should stay with Bessie, she decided she would rather have some time alone with John. Having made her decision, she said, “I’ve never tried that before, but there’s a first time for everything.”

Smiling at her response, John led them to the closest metro station. Purchasing tickets and boarding the train, they were soon back in the neighborhood of their hostel.

“The crepe vendor is just over there,” Bessie said, “I’ll see you later, or in the morning if I’m asleep when you get back.”

“Goodnight, Bess,” John called to her retreating back.

“Shall we?” John asked Maggie in his courtliest voice.

“Yes sir, we shall,” she imitated his tone.

Quickly arriving at the restaurant, the two were shown to a corner table in the back of the restaurant. The waitress handed them both a menu and John noted the look of trepidation on Maggie’s face. “It’s really good,” he tried to reassure her. “The food is normally served on one big plate. I can order for both of us, if you’d like,” he went on.

“I think that is a good idea,” she said, “between never having eaten Ethiopian before, and the French menu, I’m lost.”

“Is there anything you don’t like?” he questioned, “such as spicy food?”

“I love spicy food,” Maggie replied, “whatever you order will be fine I’m sure.”

Sitting in silence for a few minutes, both Maggie and John were shy without the presence of Bessie. Although she had tried to give them space throughout the day, just knowing she was there helped keep nervousness at bay. Finally breaking the silence, Maggie said, “This music is so interesting, I’ve never heard anything like it before.”

“Everything about this place is an adventure,” John responded, “A business acquaintance brought me here the first time and I’ve been back a couple of times since then.”

Relaxing into the conversation, Maggie asked, “You mentioned travelling all over Europe for your company. I know you said it is an import/export business, but what exactly do you do?”

“We used to do more exporting, but now we mostly import various things from other countries.” John shared, “During the Industrial Revolution, Manchester became one of the biggest industrial cities in the world. By the time my grandfather started the business, industry had expanded to all kinds of products. So, my grandfather decided it was a good idea to get into the business of selling products from our city to other countries. Now, we mostly import from other places—electronics from China and Japan, caviar and vodka from Russia. I’m like the middle man, I guess. We have businesses we work with in England and we acquire the things they want. Most of my dealings in Europe are for international food shops. You’d be amazed at how big a market there is for Greek and Italian olive oil.” Pausing to take a breath, John said, “I’m probably boring you. I didn’t mean to go on so much.”

“You’re not boring me,” Maggie replied with sincerity, “I actually find it all very interesting. So, do you ever go to Asia or Russia?”

“I’ve been to China and Japan a couple of times, but our business deals there run really smoothly, so there isn’t much need for face-to-face meetings,” John shared, “I’ve been to Russia once, but we have an employee who speaks Russian fluently. So, for the most part we send him if someone has to go.”

“And Bessie’s dad?” she asked, “Does he go on many business trips?”

“No, Nick mainly stays in the office or goes on occasional trips within the UK,” John responded, “Bessie’s little sister is still at home, so he can’t be away for too long. I know Bessie has tried to fill in for her mother, but Nick did his best to give her a childhood.”

“He sounds like a good dad,” Maggie said.

“Nick’s not just a good dad, he’s the best,” John replied vehemently.

Wanting to hear about his strong admiration for Bessie’s father, Maggie began to ask him more. Before she could, their food arrived. A large metal plate, that covered the top of their wicker table, was set in front of them. Two giant pieces of bread were on the plate, each covered with various piles of colorful food. As the waitress stepped away, Maggie looked at John, “You’re going to have to explain this to me,” she giggled.

“The bread is kind of like a pancake,” he said, “you tear off a piece and use it to pick up a bit of one of the stews. There is chicken, beef, goat, vegetarian, and some of them are spicy.”

Watching as Maggie followed his instructions, he thought how sensual it was watching her eat with her hands. That impression grew as she closed her eyes to take in the nuanced flavors and moaned in appreciation. In an attempt to distract himself, he reached for the bottle of Tedj—a fermented honey drink—to pour some into both of their glasses.

Having finished her first bite, Maggie reached for her glass. “This is delicious,” she said, “thank you for bringing me here. I never would have tried this were it not for you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” John responded, with a look in his eyes that made Maggie blush.

While tearing off his own piece of bread, John said, “So now that I’ve told you about my business, it’s my turn to ask the questions.”

“That does seem fair,” Maggie replied, “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” he replied simply.

Surprised and pleased by his response she said, “You’ll have to be a bit more specific, John.”

“Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but you seem a bit older than most people taking a gap year tour around Europe,” he started, “I’m curious about that.”

“Five years ago, I was going to do a tour across Europe with my cousin Edith,” she began, “A couple of days before my graduation, my parents told me that my mum had cancer. So, instead of traveling around Europe, I stayed home and helped my dad take care of my mum. The chemo and radiation made her so weak that she had to practically be carried around sometimes. She fought hard, but in the end, the treatments just didn’t work.”

“I’m sorry,” John said, “I can’t imagine watching your mum go through that.” There was so much empathy in is voice that Maggie knew he must be thinking of his own father’s death. Not even thinking, she reached across the table and took his hand.

Surprised by the gesture, John sat frozen, until she spoke again, “Bessie told me a bit about your dad.”

“Did she,” he responded in a whisper, his head dipped.

“Don’t hide John,” Maggie said tenderly, “From what Bessie’s told me, you have so much to be proud of. I’m sure your mother must be beside herself with pride.”

“Sometimes, I think she’s a bit too proud of me,” he acknowledged. Taking a deep breath, he continued, “So many times, when people find out about my dad, they look at me like I’m tainted. Or, they look at me with such pity that it’s painful. I don’t feel like I have anything to be proud of, I just did what I had to for my mom and my sister.”

“John, that is something to be proud of,” she insisted, “How many 18 year olds would give up their own dreams to take care of their family? Not many that I’ve ever met. And look at what you’ve accomplished. Bessie, told me how you brought the company back from near bankruptcy. Impressive for anyone, but for an 18 year old, extraordinary.”

Reddening in response to her praise, John looked her in the eye, “I had a lot of help. When I said earlier that Bessie’s dad was the greatest, I meant it. I was just a kid, who didn’t have a clue what I was doing, whereas, Nick had been working for my family’s company his whole adult life. He knew how things were supposed to run and he taught me everything. We tried to keep the money troubles quiet, but he knew and still stayed, even when there was a chance we’d have to close and he’d lose his job. He wasn’t just my employee, he was like another dad—teaching me, cheering me on, picking me up when I made mistakes. There is no way the company would have survived without him. That is why I made him a partner; it is as much his company as it is mine.”

“So honorable,” Maggie said, as she gently rubbed in circles on the back of his hand.

“Why do you say that?” John wondered.

“You’re so good, you don’t even seem to realize,” she mused, “Just as not many 18 year olds would give up their dreams to take care of their families, even fewer people would give part of their company to someone else, no matter how deserving that other person was. You are a good man John Thornton.”

“Not the overbearing brute you originally thought I was?” he asked with a new lightness in his voice.

“Not the overbearing brute,” she agreed with a laugh.

“Now,” John said, “we should finish eating before our food is completely cold.”

Finishing their meal in companionable silence, John insisted on paying, and they made their way out to the street. Strolling towards Maggie’s hostel, John decided to take a chance and reached for her hand. When she didn’t pull away, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Looking up at him, he could see her shy smile and her eyes shining, with what he knew was affection. Setting a slow pace, he relished the feel of her smaller hand in his. As they drew near the hostel, he spoke—his voice hushed, “I’d like to see you again while we’re both still in Paris.”

Speaking so softly that John had to lean closer to hear, Maggie said, “I’d really like that too.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?” John asked.

“We’re taking the train out to Versailles,” Maggie responded with a note of disappointment in her voice.

“Do you know what time you expect to be back?” he questioned.

“The Palace closes at 6:30, so if we stay until then, the latest we should be back is around eight.”

Having arrived, they stopped in front of the hostel. Taking both of her hands between his, he suggested, “Maybe we could have dinner together then. Of course, we need to invite Bessie along.”

“That would be the polite thing to do,” she agreed.

“So, dinner tomorrow night?” John double checked.

“Yes,” Maggie confirmed.

“Do you want to meet me at my hotel?” he asked, “You can have the front desk call up to my room when you arrive and we can go from there.”

“Sounds like the perfect plan,” she said smiling up at him.

Seeing her smiling face, looking up at him like that was too much of a temptation. Letting go of her hands, he reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. Then slowly, he leaned forward, placing a feather light kiss on her full, pink lips. “Goodnight, Maggie. Sleep well,” he breathed as he slowly pulled away.

Leaning up on her tip toes, Maggie planted a gentle kiss on his stubbly cheek before whispering in his ear, “Good night, John. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

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Coming soon…another chapter

For those of you interested–and especially for those of you who have asked–I wanted to let you know that I just sent the next chapter of Maggie & John: A Modern Love Story off to my wonderful betas. So, I should have it posted soon.

While you wait, here’s a little something to tide you over:

 

John Thornton Picspam

I know that in Armitage World Fridays are Guy Day. However, given my recent North & South viewing with my neighbor, I’m in a Thornton mood. What better way to celebrate the TDHCMO than with a collection of my favorite images! Or we could just call this what it really is, a shameless excuse for a Thornton Picspam.

Hope you all have a wonderful weekend!

 

 

Watching RA with a Teenager: Part 2

The 17 year old neighbor and I finished watching North & South this afternoon. Well, there was no Road to Damascus conversion for her. Mr. Thornton is still just okay looking, although she thinks the character has a lot of wonderful qualities. I will say this, she was in rare form today with her comments.

North & South from a 17 Year Old’s Perspective: Continued

She comment on how sweet he looked in this scene.

1. Punch him in the face sir! (This was her response to Higgin’s being ejected from the mill by Williams.)
2. Ugh, she’s so horrible. (Yes, she still doesn’t think very highly of Margaret.)
3. She’s so upitty for a servant, she needs to chill! (Don’t we all think this about Dixon?)
4. Mr. Bell is so cool in his plaid pants, he’s like a hipster.
5. I took her long enough! (Her response to Margaret acknowledging Mr. Thornton’s good qualities when she urges Higgins to go to him forwork.)
6. You go Mrs. Thornton, bring her down a peg!
7. Miss “Hell” is right!
8. He’s kind of pathetic in a sad, sweet kind of way. (This was her response to the “Look back at me” scene!!!)
9. Somebody slap her, her brother raised her, such..gah! (I always want to slap Fanny too.)
10. It just shows how big a heart he has. (After Fanny’s gloating, when Mr. Thorton says, “Thank God Fanny is taken care of.”
11. He’s so pathetic, like there’s no other girl in the world. (This was her response to, “He was her brother.”)
12. Margaret and that hat, whew! Can’t she buy a nicer one?
13. You deserve so much better son! (Her response to railway station scene! What am I going to do with her?)

While the 17 year old doesn’t go for Mr. Thornton, her mom oohed and awed in all the right places. Maybe she’ll be a convert. She did mention something about looking up RA and finding our dear Gisborne attractive. This seems like progress to me! And really, it would take a strong woman to resist the appeal of this:

Watching RA with a Teenager

My sweet little 17 year old neighbor had surgery to remove her wisdom teeth this week. Between the pain and the pain meds, she hasn’t really been fit for school. So, she called me today and asked if she could come over and watch…wait for it…North & South. This was encouraging, seeing as she had already watched it with me once. I actually had some free time this afternoon, so she came on over. She likes to give a running commentary throughout the movie, and since I’ve seen it numerous times, I enjoy hearing her take on it. So I thought I’d share some of the things she said today (about the first half, she’s coming back tomorrow to watch the rest).

North & South from a 17 Year Old’s Perspective:

1. That Henry guy is going to propose, isn’t he? At least he’s better than Mr. Collins from Pride and Prejudice.
2. Mrs. Hale should shut up already, all she ever does is complain.
3. Gosh, Mr. Hale’s family just don’t understand him.
4. Oh, I love when Higgin’s rescues her, he’s like a teddy bear.
5. Fanny is really shallow, she needs to close her mouth!
6. Ah, Frederick is sooo cute! I really like him.
7. I hate that Bessie’s sick, it’s not fair!
8. Mr. Thornton should run the other way, Margaret is a jerk.
9. They should put their boobs away!
10. Uh, she is so mean! He deserves way better than her.

Oh, she also informs me that Mr. Thornton is just okay looking. But when she saw the below picture on my laptop she decided that Richard Armitage is actually handsome. Whew, at least I don’t have to worry too much about her taste!

Maggie & John: A Modern Love Story-Chapter 4

We’re now into day five of FanstRAvaganza 3! Hope everyone’s enjoying themselves so far.

If you haven’t had a chance yet:

Check out yesterday’s posts in the Fanfic Chain from JT’s Blog and Jo Ann.

Also, head on over to see what Maria Grazia has posted today!

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Here’s the next installment of Maggie & John’s story. Since this is part of FanstRAvaganza 3, expect a lot of John Thornton in this chapter! Many thanks to Jael and UK Expat for beta-ing this chapter for me. It is much appreciated, ladies.

If your just joining this story and interested in reading the previous chapters, you can do so here.

Chapter 4

John stared at Maggie and felt as if the fates were looking down on him with favor. While his day had been busily spent with one of his suppliers, his thoughts had frequently been fixed on her. He had wondered how she spent her day, what sights she had visited. He longed to see her expression as she took in the new surroundings, to hear her delight as she spoke of each new experience. Each time his mind had strayed to her, he reminded himself that he would probably never see her again. The likelihood of her calling seemed miniscule. Yet here she was, with Nick’s daughter.

“Hello John,” Maggie said with a timid smile.

“Hello Maggie,” he replied. “I wasn’t sure if I would see you again,” John continued with the slightest hint of nervousness in his voice.

“It seems as if we don’t really have a say in the matter,” Maggie continued, “Perhaps we are meant to be friends.”

Throughout this exchange, Bessie looked from one to the other. Observing John’s obvious attraction to her new friend, she was less certain of Maggie’s interest. After a few moments she decided to remind them of her presence. “So, how do you two know each other?” she asked, “You don’t exactly run in the same circles.”

“We were seated next to each other at the airport this morning,” Maggie answered, “then we rode the train into Paris together.”

“Really,” Bessie said, “well I’ve known Mr. Thornton my whole life.”

“Bessie,” John started, “you know you don’t have to call me Mr. Thornton. John will do just fine.”

“Well then, John,” Bessie said impishly, “would you like to join us for dinner?”

Casting his gaze towards Maggie, he tried to ascertain her wishes. His glance was met with a smile and a slight nod. Heart swelling, John offered a brilliant smile in return and replied, “I’d love to, ladies.”

Settling in at the table—John quickly placed his order—insisting that Maggie and Bessie eat while their food was hot.

“So, you both are from Milton then?” Maggie inquired.

“Born and raised,” Bessie answered.

“My family has been in Milton for ages,” John replied.

“And Bessie’s dad is your business partner?” Maggie asked John with a quirked brow—reminding him of their unfortunate introduction that very morning.

“Yes,” John began, “he’s worked for my family’s business since before I was born. He started at the bottom when he was 16 and gradually worked his way up.”

“That’s quite admirable,” Maggie said, directing a smile towards Bessie.

“He really proved his value to the company after John’s dad died,” Bessie said. Quickly realizing the inappropriateness of her comment, she continued, “I’m sorry John. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, its fine Bessie,” John reassured her, “you’re right. I’m not sure if I could have coped without his help in the beginning.”

“Your dad,” Maggie hesitantly asked, “how long has he been gone?”

“It’s been about a decade,” John said, “I was only 18 when I had to take over the family business. My mum, she knew a lot. But Nick, he’s the one who really got me on my feet.”

At that moment John’s food arrived and the conversation lulled, as each of them savored their meal.

John’s attention was caught as Maggie took a sip of wine; he was entranced as she licked a drop of the ruby liquid from her lips—his entire body heating. In an attempt to redirect his thoughts he asked, “Did you two stay busy today?”

“Yes,” Bessie began, “we did all kinds of things today!”

Listening to Bessie recount their day, John’s attention was again drawn to Maggie. He noted the sparkle in her eyes as she relived the day through Bessie’s story. It was clear to him that in just this one day, she and Bessie had formed a close bond. He couldn’t help but wonder what had drawn these two very different women together. Bessie was so young and exuberant about everything. While Maggie seemed to have a joy for life, she was clearly several years older than Bessie, and of a more sedate nature. Pondering their differences, he concluded that their contrasting personalities complemented each other. Finally catching a pause in Bessie’s story John asked, “So, what was your favorite place you visited today?”

“Ooh,” Bessie gushed, “I loved visiting Notre Dame. It was so beautiful, and that bell was huge!”

“And Maggie,” John turned to her, “what was your favorite part of the day?”

“Visiting all of those historic buildings and gardens was wonderful,” she replied, “but if I’m honest, the part I’ve replayed most in my mind was the taste of our midmorning snack!”

Laughing heartily at Maggie’s admission, they continued with their meal. “Your glass is empty,” Maggie observed. Both reaching for the wine bottle, John’s hand lightly brushed against Maggie’s. The electric charge that ran up his arm was palpable. Heart pounding, John chanced a look into Maggie’s eyes. Her returned gaze astounded him—shock, attraction, desire—everything he felt was reflected back at him. Maggie turned her attention to Bessie and the moment was over.

Soon after they had finished dinner, Maggie began to rise, “Bessie, we should head back to the hostel. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day, so we should get some sleep.”

At this declaration, Bessie started to get up—but seeing the disappointed look on John’s face—she changed her mind. “But Maggie,” she stalled, “we haven’t had dessert yet.”

“Dessert,” Maggie teased, “were the pastries this morning and ice cream in the afternoon not enough?”

“I figure we balanced things out with all of that walking,” Bessie suggested, “Besides, I want to try some crepes.”

“There is a street vendor close by,” John suggested, “that has the best crepes I’ve had in Paris.”

Outnumbered, Maggie agreed, and the three set off in search of crepes.

Bessie—hoping to give John a few moments alone with Maggie—hurried ahead in the direction John pointed them. Leaving John and Maggie to follow, side-by-side.

“She’s quite exuberant, isn’t she?” John asked, hoping to draw Maggie into conversation.

“Yes, that’s part of why I’ve had so much fun with her today,” she replied.

Falling into silence, they continued down the street. Then Maggie spoke, “I was sorry to hear about your father. I know it was a long time ago, but losing a parent is never easy.”

“Thank you, Maggie,” John looked into her sympathetic face, “I was blessed with the support of my mother and Nick, that’s more than a lot of people have in such circumstances.”

“You were 18 when he passed, were you in school at the time?” she inquired.

“I was in my first term at university, when he died,” John confided, “I had to quit school and take over the family business. Things were a bit precarious; dad hadn’t left things in the best shape.”

“Do you wish you could have finished school?” Maggie asked.

“Sometimes I do, when I’m on trips like this, I get to see amazing things, buildings in particular. I wanted to be an architect and sometimes I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to design a building and see it through to completion,” John shared, “I’ve made the best of the life I have. I don’t regret the choices I’ve made, but sometimes…” he trailed off.

“You think about what could have been,” Maggie finished for him.

“Exactly,” John smiled at her. It was a relief to share these thoughts with someone. For so long he had kept his feelings inside—worried that his mother would be upset if she knew. Talking to Maggie, he found it easy to confide, the words just rolling off of his tongue.

Bessie’s call drew them out of their conversation, “If my nose can be trusted, we must be getting close.”

“That girl,” Maggie smiled, “she thinks with her stomach.”

Arriving at the crepe stand, they placed and received their order—John insisting it was his treat. Once again John found himself watching Maggie, smiling at the chocolate spread that lingered at the corner of her mouth. Without thinking he reached over with his thumb, wiping the chocolate from her lips. “Sorry, you had some chocolate there,” John said, when he caught the look of surprise in her eyes. Never breaking eye contact, John lifted his thumb to his own lips and licked the offending chocolate—his heart speeding as he watched Maggie’s pupils dilate in response.

Satisfied with both dessert and the way things were progressing between John and Maggie, Bessie decided it was time to call it a night. “Alright Maggie,” she said, “My sweet tooth has been appeased. Let’s go get that beauty sleep, so we’re ready for tomorrow.”

John, reluctant to part just yet, offered to walk them back to the hostel. “I never asked what the two of you have planned for tomorrow,” he said.

“We’re going to visit some of the art museums,” Bessie offered.

“Do you know which ones, Bessie?” John teased.

“Maggie’s the tour guide,” she tossed back, “you’ll have to ask her.”

“We’re starting at the Louvre, then going on to the Musée de l’Orangerie and then the Musée D’Orsay,” Maggie said.

Wondering if he was pushing things too far, John decided to suggest anyway, “My meetings tomorrow are in the morning and then I’m free for the rest of the day. Maybe I could join you in the afternoon. I’m quite fond of the Impressionists.”

Smiling at this admission, Bessie winked at Maggie and commented, “Isn’t that something, Maggie’s a big fan of the Impressionists as well.”

“Really,” John said, his blue eyes lighting up, “I’d love to see their works with another admirer.”

“If we’re going to meet up, we should set a time and place,” Maggie suggested.

Thrilled that she was willing for him to join them, John asked, “Do you think you will be done at the Louvre around noon?”

“If everything goes according to plan,” Maggie responded.

“I could bring lunch and meet the two of you outside of the Musée de l’Orangerie,” John said, “We could have a picnic in the park before going in.”

“That sounds like a good plan to me,” Bessie opined, “What do you think, Maggie?”

“If it won’t be an inconvenience,” Maggie faltered, then said, “it’s a very nice offer, John.”

Pleased with her acceptance, John bid them goodnight as they entered the hostel. Setting off in the direction of his hotel, he couldn’t be happier that he’d kept his promise to Nick of checking up on Bessie.

***************************************

Sliding into bed, Maggie sighed as her body relaxed after the long day. Her thoughts, firmly fixed on the man who had captivated her attention all evening. Hearing Bessie come in she chanced a question, “Bessie, John’s father, was he sick?”

“No, why do you ask?” Bessie asked in return.

“He was away at school when his dad died, that seemed strange to me,” Maggie answered truthfully.

“I’m not sure I should say anything,” Bessie said uncertainly. Quickly making up her mind, she continued, “His dad killed himself, Maggie. He’d gambled away most of their family’s money, and the business’s money. When he couldn’t ignore what he’d done anymore, he took the coward’s way out. At least that’s what my dad says. Just don’t repeat that to John, okay.”

“How awful for him,” Maggie said more to herself than to Bessie, “At least our mothers didn’t choose to leave us.”

“John’s a good guy, Maggie, and he’s had to work hard,” Bessie pushed on, wanting her friend to understand what kind of man John truly was. “He did everything he could to make sure the company didn’t close—worried about the employees and what would happen to them,” Bessie went on, “I know from what my dad’s told me, that John and his mum and sister lived on less than they should have, so that more money could be put into the business. He even saved up money so Fran could go to school, even though he never got to finish. He hasn’t had much of a life apart from the company. If anyone deserves to find some happiness, it’s him, Maggie.” Finished lauding the many merits of John Thornton, Bessie added with a yawn, “I didn’t realize how tired I was. Sleep well, Maggie.” With that she rolled over and promptly fell asleep.

For Maggie, sleep was longer in coming. There was so much to think about. John had taken her by surprise from the moment they had met. He seemed such a contradiction, but the more she learned of him, the more she was drawn to him. Certainly she was attracted to him, although physical attraction was quickly taking second place to genuine interest. He seemed like the kind of man she could truly admire, be friends with, maybe even love. It was crazy to think like that, she reminded herself, they had only known each other for a day. Caution aside, Maggie finally drifted to sleep with thoughts of John Thornton floating through her head.

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Heads up for the Fanfic Chain:

If you haven’t already, visit Maria Grazia to see what she’s posted.

And tomorrow, look forward to posts from fedoralady and Jo Ann.

Maggie & John: A Modern Love Story-Chapter 3

Here’s the next chapter in my Maggie & John story. I’m posting this un-beta read, so if you notice any errors, feel free to let me know. This chapter finds Maggie making a new friend. Hope you enjoy!

The previous chapters can be found here.

Chapter 3

Upon her first glimpse of Hostel Aloha, Maggie breathed a sigh of relief. The building in front of her was charming, nothing like some of the more run down places Edith had described. Entering the building, she headed straight for reception. When making reservations, Maggie had asked for accommodations in one of the twin rooms. She had been informed that such rooms were on a first come, first serve basis, once you arrived. Although she felt brave, venturing off on her own, she was still uncertain about the dormitory nature of staying in hostels. Sending up a silent prayer as she approached the young man at reception, she asked in stilted French, “Hello, my name is Maggie Hale. I’m checking in. I wanted to inquire after a twin room.”

Offering her a warm smile, the young man replied, “Bienvenue à l’auberge Aloha, Maggie. Mon nom est Thomas, nous sommes heureux que vous ayez choisi de rester avec nous et vous avez de la chance. Juste avant, nous avions une chambre à lits jumeaux sont disponibles aujourd’hui. Une autre jeune femme qui a pris l’autre lit.”

Having taken French in school, Maggie had hoped that she would be able to converse with relative ease. Thomas’ reply had soundly dismissed that hope, as she had only caught a few words of his response. With a hint of embarrassment in her voice Maggie asked, “Parlez-vous anglais, Thomas?”

“Of course Maggie, “Thomas replied with another smile and a twinkle in his eye, “Welcome to Hostel Aloha. We are so glad you have chosen to stay with us and you are in luck. We just had a twin room come available today. Another young lady has taken the other bed.”

“Wonderful!” Maggie enthused.

“According to your reservation you will be staying with us for five days, is that correct?” Thomas queried.

“Yes, that’s right,” Maggie answered.

Over the next few minutes Maggie settled the details of her stay with Thomas. Having received her towels and bedding, she headed in the direction he pointed her. She knocked lightly, before pushing open the door to her room. “Hey, you must be my roommate,” greeted the slight girl with blonde hair. Talking a mile a minute, she continued, “I’m Bessie—here for five days. There’s so much I’m desperate to see. Once I get my bed made and a shower, I’ll hit the ground running. I don’t know how I’ll fit all of Paris in with just five days!”

While Bessie paused to take a breath, Maggie took the opportunity to introduce herself, “It’s nice to meet you Bessie. I’m Maggie.”

“Oh good,” enthused Bessie, “your British too! I was worried I’d end up with a roommate I couldn’t understand.”

“I know what you mean. It was embarrassing to have to ask Thomas at the desk if he spoke English,” Maggie shared.

“Maybe we Brits should stick together,” Bessie suggested, “it would be nice to have someone to explore with.”

“It would,” agreed Maggie. Suspecting the answer to her question, Maggie asked anyway, “Do you already have a site seeing plan arranged or do you just go where the wind blows?”

“Nothing planned yet, but I brought a guide book,” said Bessie. “I’m just guessing, but you look like the type who already has a plan,” Bessie continued with a cheeky grin, “am I right?”

Smiling sheepishly Maggie responded, “Am I that obvious?”

“You just look like the organized type,” Bessie answered after some thought, “Which is perfect. Now I can just tag along with you!”

Laughing at her new friends enthusiasm, Maggie suggested, “While you go take that shower, I’ll make my bed, then we can be off.”

Twenty minutes later the girls found themselves strolling down the streets of Paris in the direction of the Arc de Triomphe. Along their route Maggie learned more about her new companion. Bessie it turned out was 18 and preparing to enter university that fall. She lived with her dad and younger sister in Milton, a suburb of Manchester.  Her father—having been made a partner at work, three years earlier—had insisted on sending his oldest daughter off to tour Europe. Bessie, more than willing to take him up on the offer, had jumped at the chance. Arriving in Paris that morning, this was the beginning of Bessie’s travels as well as Maggie’s. Rather than fly into Paris, Bessie had boarded the train in Manchester at four that morning to London and on from there to Paris.

While the contrast in their personalities made them unlikely companions, Bessie’s next revelation would make them fast friends, “Dad was so excited that he could afford to send me off on this trip,” she said, “he had a hard time making ends meet after my mum died.”

“Oh, Bessie,” Margaret began with much sympathy, “how long has it been?”

“I was ten when she died, lung cancer,” Bessie answered, “She never smoked a day in her life. How do you like that?”

Looking at her young friend, Maggie could not help but feel grateful that her own mother had lived until she was 19. “Cancer doesn’t seem to discriminate, does it?” Maggie asked. Continuing she confided, “My mum died four years ago from breast cancer. That’s why I’m doing this trip now, instead of when I was your age.”

“Well, aren’t we a pair?” Bessie asked in a light tone, “I guess we really will have to stick together now!”

“Bessie, I think you’re right,” was Maggie’s decided answer.

So deep in conversation had they been that the hour long walk had passed swiftly and they found themselves at the Champs Elysees. Looking at the busy traffic circle, Bessie asked, “How do you suppose we are supposed to get across to the monument?”

“Ah,” began Maggie, with a haughty tone that was belied by the smile on her face, “that’s where all of my planning comes in. There is a tunnel under the street.”

Finding the tunnel, they were soon staring up at the magnificent structure. After taking several pictures, Maggie asked, “Do you want to climb to the top?”

“Why not?” Bessie replied, “It may be my only chance. But let’s get someone to take our picture first. We need photographic proof we were here.”

Both laughing at this assessment, they found a nice Japanese man to take their picture. That accomplished, they climbed the 40 steps up to the top. After snapping a few more photos they descended the steps. Once they had returned through the tunnel, Bessie asked in her best posh voice, “Now my tour guide, what wonders do you have in store for me next?”

Maggie marveled at how light hearted she felt in the presence of this young woman. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun. “Well, I planned on walking past the Louvre and visiting the Jardin des Tuileries. Is that okay with you?” Maggie asked.

“Just walking past the Louvre? You don’t want to go inside?” Bessie asked in surprise.

“As you noticed, I’m the organized type.” Maggie said, “I planned to visit the art museums tomorrow.”

“Will there be time to visit them all in one day?” Bessie worried.

“I don’t think I’ll need much time in the Louvre. Don’t tell anyone,” Maggie whispered conspiratorially, “I may be a vicar’s daughter, but I don’t like all of that religious artwork.”

Laughing outright at Maggie’s confession Bessie queried, “What artwork do you prefer then?”

“I love the Impressionists. Monet is my favorite. So I’m much more interested in the Musee D’Orsay and the Musée de l’Orangerie.” Maggie said slightly dreamy eyed, “Monet’s water lilies are at the last one.”

“On we go then,” declared Bessie. Maggie consulted her map leading them in the right direction. With a brief stop for pictures in front of the glass pyramid, they continued on their way to the Jardin des Tuileries. After spending an hour wandering through the labyrinths and photographing many of the statues, Bessie suggested they find somewhere to eat lunch.

“How would you feel about grabbing a snack and heading for Notre Dame?” Maggie asked. “It’s just that my cousin recommended a café in the Latin Quarter. We could go there after visiting the cathedral.”

“That works for me,” Bessie started, “it’s a bit embarrassing, but I’ve always loved that cartoon about the Hunchback who lives in the bell tower.”

“I suppose I don’t need to ask if you want to climb the bell tower then,” Maggie asked.

“You probably think I’m silly don’t you,” Bessie asked with just the hint of a blush.

With complete seriousness, Maggie responded, “No Bessie, I don’t. You know as well as I do that life can be hard. Animated movies can be a nice break from reality—since they usually have happy endings. Besides,” she paused to emphasis her point, “I’m a sucker for Pixar movies.”

As they walked in the direction of Notre Dame, Bessie suddenly cried out, “Maggie look, I’ve found our snack!”

Looking through the window that Bessie pointed towards, Maggie was equally excited by the largest display of pastries she had ever seen. Entering the patisserie, Maggie ordered a mille feuille and Bessy, profiteroles. Sitting down with their pastry and coffee, neither spoke a word as the savored the delicate desserts.

Finished with their snack, they continued on towards Notre Dame. Both stopping to take in the grandeur as the cathedral came into view.

“Wow,” Bessie breathed.

“I know,” Maggie responded.

“Come on, I want to see the gargoyles,” Bessie said as she hurried Maggie along.

Upon entering the church, Maggie took note of the line for the bell tower. “Bessie, I think we arrived at a good time, the line is short,” Maggie said, “we should do the climb now, and then look around.” With no arguments from Bessie, they joined the queue and ascended the south tower. The bourdon bell was amazing, named Emmanuel; they were told it weighed over 13 tons. Finished with the tower, Maggie and Bessie roamed the church, admiring the flying buttresses and exquisite stained glass. Having explored the cathedral to their hearts content, they agreed it was time to head south, towards the Latin district—and lunch.

Finding the small café, they settled at a sidewalk table and looked at the menus. Luckily, Maggie’s grasp of written French surpassed her understanding of the spoken language. Helping Bessie with the menu, the two placed their order and relaxed with a glass of wine.

Lunch passed comfortably, Maggie and Bessie getting along like old friends—rather than acquaintances of less than a day. Once finished with their salads and wine—and revived from their brief rest—they headed down the street, taking in the distinct feel of the Parisian atmosphere.

On they went, west towards the Pantheon, followed by ice cream and people watching in the Jardin du Luxembourg.

As they ate their last bites of ice cream, Maggie said, “I only have one last thing planned for today.”

“I’m glad,” Bessie responded, “I slept some on the train, but my early morning is starting to wear on me.”

“Even with the short flight, I thought I might want to call it an early night,” was Maggie’s reply.

“So, Tour Guide Maggie, what is the last stop on today’s itinerary?” Bessie teased.

“Now it’s my turn to be embarrassed,” Maggie said, “do you know that book The DaVinci Code?”

“I’ve heard of it,” Bessie answered.

“Well, one of the locations in the book is Saint Sulplice,” Maggie explained, “I wanted to go and look at symbols in the church.”

“Really”, Bessie said with wide eyes, “and you, a vicar’s daughter.

“Oh, I don’t actually believe there are hidden symbols,” Maggie hurriedly responded, “I just thought it was a fun idea. I know the book is fiction.”

“Saint Sulplice, it is then,” said Bessie, always amenable.

Spending a good amount of time in the church, Maggie and Bessie spent most of their exploration pointing out symbols and joking over speculated meanings. By the time they exited the building, Maggie’s abdominal muscles hurt from laughing so much. This, she reflected had been the best day she’d had in ages.

Walking back towards the hostel, they decided to go and clean up before finding a restaurant for dinner. Fresh and clean, they asked the asked Amelia—the girl at reception—for a recommendation. Suggesting a bistro a couple of blocks away, Maggie and Bessie set off in pursuit of dinner.

The evening was pleasant, so they chose sidewalk seating for the second time that day. To celebrate the excellent start to their trip, they ordered a bottle of wine to accompany the bœuf bourguignon and coq au vin that they had ordered. As their food arrived, Bessie moaned under her breath.

“What’s wrong,” Maggie asked, slightly concerned.

“Nothing,” Bessie sighed, “I just figured out why my dad was so keen on me staying at this particular hostel.”

“What do you mea…” Maggie started to ask.

She stopped short, as she heard an unmistakable deep voice say, “Hello Bessie. How is your trip going so far?”

“Today was wonderful Mr. Thornton,” Bessie replied politely, “May I introduce you to my roommate and new traveling companion? This is Maggie Hale. Maggie, this is my dad’s business partner, John Thornton.”