My Secret Guide to Paris (6 page)

W
e were close enough to walk, so after I paid our bill, we took off for the museum. Even though the weather was still kind of gloomy, our mood was cheerful and sunny. I couldn’t believe how well Phoebe and I had hit it off. I didn’t feel awkward and funny around her like I often feel around people I don’t know very well. Phoebe made it easy to be me.

We only had an hour until we had to meet up with Justin and Alice, so we walked quickly. The pretty bells of Notre-Dame rang out, letting us know it was noon. I almost had to pinch myself, because it practically seemed like a dream, walking the streets of Paris with all of the sights, sounds, and delicious smells.

When we reached the front of the stone-and-glass museum, we took a minute to admire the building, which was like a child’s playhouse compared to the gigantic Louvre.

The front of the building was all stone with four pillars near the stairs leading up to the front door. Phoebe asked me if I wanted her to take my picture, and I realized I’d forgotten my camera back at the hotel. She said she’d be happy to take photos and send them to me when she got home. So she took a couple of pictures and then we went inside.

At the ticket booth, Phoebe asked the woman if we might speak to Georges, who worked there. The woman called him on the phone, said a few lines in French to him, and after she hung up, she said something to her coworker before motioning us to follow her.

She led us through a door and into a small office, where a man sat at a desk.

“Bonjour, mademoiselles,”
he said as he stood up and came around to the front of his desk. He was tall and thin and had a dark mustache.

I felt Phoebe’s hand rest lightly on my elbow, gently encouraging me. I swallowed hard as I stepped forward. “
Bonjour.
Do you speak English?”

“Yes. How may I help you?”

“I’m Nora, Sylvia Parker’s granddaughter. And this is my friend Phoebe. My grandma said to come here and see you.”

He clapped his hands together. “Nora! But my, how lovely it is to meet you. Your grandmother has spoken so highly of you. But where is she? Oh, let me guess. She must be working, eh?”

“Actually …” I looked at Phoebe. This was not going to be easy, telling him the news. She gave me a little look of sympathy and I knew the best thing was to just get it over with. I turned back to face him. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but she passed away in January.”

One of his hands flew to his mouth as he shook his head slightly. “Oh no. How terribly sad.”

“I’m really sorry,” I said again, not sure what else to say.

“And I for you. I know how close you were to her. Have you been to see her favorite painting, then?”

I shook my head. “No. We came to see you first.”

“Are you familiar at all with the famous water lily paintings?” he asked.

“Not really,” I replied.

He smiled. “In 1922, Claude Monet signed documents donating the water lily paintings to the French government to be housed in oval rooms here at the Musée de l’Orangerie. They were installed in 1927, one year after his death.

“Monet worked on the paintings for years. His own gardens at his home in Giverny, France, were the inspiration for the water lily paintings, known as
Les Nymphéas
to the French.

“Your grandmother told me once that she loved them because they reminded her to admire and appreciate the little things in life. Monet painted the places and people he knew best. What might have seemed ordinary to other people, Monet saw in a different light. He captured the beauty that is there if only we might search a little harder to find it. She was a big fan of his for that reason, I believe.”

“Wow,” I said. “That’s neat. And it sounds like my grandma, for sure.” I looked at Phoebe. “It makes me miss her even more.”

“Come along,” Georges said, walking toward the door, probably not wanting me to start crying in front of him. “Let me show you the paintings. This way. And please note, in the first oval room, there is no talking. It’s a quiet room.”

Both of us nodded as we followed Georges into the hallway and back through the door into the museum.

It seemed strange that no talking was allowed for simply looking at a painting, until I saw the paintings for myself.

The oval room was white from ceiling to floor, except for the massive paintings that ran the entire length of the walls. I’d never seen anything like it. Most of the time, a painting is in a frame, and you have to get close to appreciate it, because there is more wall than art. But not in the oval room.

The long, curved paintings were all around me, surrounding me. They were at least six feet tall, so they took up almost the entire wall space. I sat on a bench in the middle of the room, where a few others were sitting, too, holding my breath, taking it all in.

I thought of a man, painting on these gigantic canvases, trying to show what he saw and what he felt when he admired the water lilies in his garden. As my eyes scanned the paintings, I could almost smell the fresh air, feel the breeze across my cheeks. How amazing, I thought, that he had created such an experience with a paintbrush.

I hadn’t noticed what Phoebe was doing while I had been admiring the paintings, but she eventually sat next to me. I knew we were both taking in the soft, muted colors—the blues, the greens, the purples, the pale pinks—and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so at peace.

Eventually, we got up and went into the second oval room. This time, we slowly walked around the room, admiring the art close up.

When we were done, we went out into the hallway. Georges was there, waiting.

“Did you enjoy it?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I can see why she loved it.”

“Well,” he said, “I will leave you two to enjoy the rest of the museum on your own. Thank you for coming to see me.”

I bit my lip, afraid to ask. Thankfully, he saved me.

“Oh! I just remembered, your grandmother sent something a few months back. A package, for you and your mother. But she said I had to give it to the both of you, together.”

Oh no. Not again.

“Is she here with you, in Paris?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said softly.

“Wonderful. Then come back with her, and I’ll be happy to pass the package along to you.” He waved. “Good-bye, girls.”

As soon as he was out of our sight, I leaned in and whispered to Phoebe, “I want to leave.” She nodded her head in agreement, so we made our way to the front door and back outside.

“Are you all right?” Phoebe asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m really confused. Why does my mother have to be with me? I thought it was supposed to be
my
treasure hunt to celebrate
my
birthday.”

“I’m sorry, Nora,” she said. “It is rather odd, but your grandmother must have had her reasons.”

“I guess so. What’s weird is she didn’t even know for sure my mother would come along on this trip. I mean, when she died, she hadn’t said anything to my mom about buying her a ticket.”

“She must have really believed she could convince her to come along,” Phoebe said. She started walking. “Let’s start making our way to the Arc.”

I didn’t say anything, trying to figure out what my mother would say if I decided to let her in on this whole thing.

“I can’t believe how much trouble your grandmother went to,” Phoebe said. “Planning ahead and sending those packages to her friends. She really did love you a lot.”

I felt a tug on my heart. It was true, she did, and I loved her, too. But why, oh why, did she have to involve my mother in the clues?

I stopped walking. “I need to read the third note. Right now, before we meet up with them.”

Phoebe pointed to a nearby bench. “Let’s take a seat and see what it says.”

“I’m so glad you’re here with me, Phoebe,” I said. “Like, honestly, if you weren’t here, I think I’d be losing my mind right now.”

She smiled. “I’m happy to have met you, too. A Métro match made in heaven, yes?”

“Yes. Maybe Grandma sent me to you because she knew I’d need a friend.”

“I know this might be personal, but can I ask why you didn’t invite your mum to join you today?”

I took a deep breath as we sat down on the bench. “My mom and Grandma weren’t really speaking to each other when Grandma died. It’s kind of a long story, but I wasn’t sure she would approve of this treasure hunt my grandma created for me. If I’d told her, and she’d refused to let me visit these places, I would have been so upset, you know?”

“That makes sense. All right, let’s see what else Grandma Sylvia has in store for us,” Phoebe said.

I liked how she said “us.” It made me feel like she was going to see this through with me, all the way to the end. I didn’t know if that was true or not, since we hadn’t talked about what might happen tomorrow or the next day or the day after that, but it made me feel better anyway.

I took out the third envelope and opened the note. We both read it in silence.

THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE PARIS, PART 3

Can you believe those larger-than-life paintings? Wasn’t that room one of the most peaceful places you’ve ever been? So serene, it’s like it’s just you and those lovely water lilies. I hope you loved it as much as I do.

I’m sure you’re wondering where you are off to next. I really want you to experience one of my favorite places in all of Paris. Across from the island with the Notre-Dame cathedral is a smaller island, surrounded by the Seine River, known as Île Saint-Louis. I enjoy it here because it’s like someone dropped a quaint French village into the heart of Paris. You will feel as if you have stepped back in time, for not much has changed since the buildings were built centuries ago.

Plan on spending an afternoon here, to visit the many boutiques they have and to taste the exquisite ice cream to be found at Berthillon. Also make sure you check out the entertaining street performers on the bridge that connects Île Saint-Louis with the Île de la Cité. So fun!!

As for your next “clue,” please visit a darling boutique called Yamina and ask to speak to Marie. She’s a dear friend of mine. I’m sure by now you must be wondering what all of these special gifts are for. Do you like them? I hope so! Don’t worry, all will be revealed in time. For now, enjoy the journey!

I looked at Phoebe as I leaned back and sighed. “Do I like the gifts? How can I answer that when I don’t even know what they are?”

“Nora, I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but—”

“Please don’t tell me I have to tell my mom. Please? Let’s go see what we can find out at the third place. Let’s just wait and see.”

She smiled. “Whatever you say. Who knows, maybe third time’s a charm.”

I could only hope.

W
e met up with Justin and Alice right on time. When they asked what we did for three hours, we told them we drank some of the best hot chocolate in Paris and admired Monet’s water lilies.

When we asked what they did, both Justin and Alice blushed. Justin replied quickly, “Just wandered around.”

I was pretty sure that meant they’d found a romantic spot on a bridge somewhere and made googly eyes at each other. But I didn’t mind at all. In fact, I was glad, because if Justin and Alice liked each other and wanted to spend more time together, that meant Phoebe and I could hang out together some more, too.

Alice suggested we grab some crêpes from a street cart for lunch, so that’s what we did. Grandma had taken me for crêpes at a neighborhood street fair in the city last summer, so I was curious if French crêpes would be much different. Here, the list of fillings seemed to go on forever. I couldn’t read all of them, so I asked Phoebe which one she liked the best. She said her favorite was Nutella and banana. I’d never had Nutella before, but Phoebe explained it’s a hazelnut spread with a fabulous chocolate flavor to it.

“Chocolate again?” I asked. “I think my mother would kill me if she knew.”

Phoebe smiled. “Don’t tell her, and simply have a healthy dinner tonight. Besides, you are in Paris, Nora! You’re supposed to splurge.”

The warm crêpes were sprinkled with powdered sugar, the bottom halves wrapped in white paper to make them easier to handle. I couldn’t wait to bite into mine as I eyed the Nutella and bananas oozing out of the top of the thin, pancake-like creation.

Phoebe grabbed her camera and had Justin take a picture of the two of us holding our crêpes. Then we found a nearby park to sit and eat. The clouds started breaking up, and tiny patches of blue sky popped out here and there. The sun even played hide-and-seek with us a few times.

“Mmmm,” Justin said, his mouth full. “This is good.”

I took a bite, and even though I’d had a crêpe before, I didn’t remember it tasting anything like this one. All of the flavors blended together and it was like a party in my mouth. It tasted incredible.

It seemed to me, though, that in Paris,
everything
was simply better. The colors, brighter. The people, happier. The food, tastier. It could have just been my imagination. Or maybe Paris really was magical, just like Grandma had made it sound when she shared her stories.

“What a good day this has been,” Phoebe said. “I’m so glad we ran into the two of you.”

“Yeah,” Justin said. “Worked out pretty well, didn’t it? You girls want to go off on your own again this afternoon? Alice and I don’t mind. We can meet back here, Nora, and take the train to our hotel.”

I was so happy he’d brought up the rest of the afternoon so I didn’t have to. I couldn’t have planned it better.

“We’d love that, right, Phoebe?”

“Right,” she said.

“Cool,” Justin said, looking at Alice. “Then it’s settled.”

I didn’t know what they had planned, but I didn’t care. Phoebe and I would be on our own again, exploring another part of Paris. I couldn’t wait!

When we finished eating, Phoebe and I said good-bye to Justin and Alice and went on our way.

“They like each other,” I said, looping my arm through Phoebe’s as we walked toward the river. “A lot.”

“Your brother is handsome and American,” Phoebe said.

“And your sister is beautiful and British. What happens at the end of the week, though?”

“They go their separate ways and promise to stay in touch,” she said. “And they will. For approximately twenty-two days. Maybe twenty-three.”

“But if it’s true love, maybe they’ll find a way to make it work.”

“Sorry, but that’s rubbish,” she said. “There’s no way to make it work. There’s an ocean between them, after all.”

As she said it, I wondered if I’d ever see Phoebe again once this week was over. I told myself not to think about it. It wouldn’t do any good to get depressed about something that hadn’t even happened yet.

I pulled out the map so we could figure out the way to Île Saint-Louis. It was hard to tell how long it would take to get there on foot. It was past Notre-Dame, and we were up by the Louvre. I showed Phoebe the map, and after discussing it, we decided it couldn’t be
that
far and we could walk there.

“So tell me something I don’t know about you,” Phoebe asked.

“I’m pretty boring,” I said. “I don’t play sports. I’m not very musical. I mean, I like listening to music, but I don’t play an instrument. I tried playing the violin when I was eight, but I got too nervous every time I had to play for my teacher. Mostly, learning about Paris has been my hobby for the past couple of years. That, and I read a lot.”

“Hey, me too,” she said. “But I also play the piano. I’ve been playing since I was five.”

“You must be really good, then.”

“I don’t know. Good enough, I suppose. So what’s your favorite book?”

“Well, I have a couple. Not sure you’ve heard of one of them. Harry Potter?”

I looked over at Phoebe to see her reaction. She pretended to play dumb. “Why, no, I haven’t heard of that book. What’s it about, silly wizards or something?”

I laughed. “Hey, how’d you know?”

“Just a good guess. You really like it, Nora? It doesn’t sound like my cup of tea.”

I stopped walking and looked at her. “Please tell me you are kidding. Because I’m not sure if I can still be your friend if you’re serious.”

“I’ve read the entire series”—she put her finger to her chin, like she was thinking hard—“a total of seven times. Or is it eight?”

I squealed as I nudged her shoulder. “I knew there was a reason we got along so well!”

People around us gave us funny looks. Phoebe talked in a hushed tone. “Shhhh, remember we’re in Paris. No excitement allowed. You must act dignified at all times.”

“That’s rubbish,” I said, trying on a British word.

She laughed. “You’re funny, Nora. I think I quite like you.”

We started walking again. “If you like me so much, can I have your beret?”

“No,” she said with a smile. “Absolutely not.”

“Then can I come to London and hear you play the piano sometime?” I asked.

“You are welcome to visit me anytime.”

Of all the things I had thought about finding while in Paris, I’d never imagined that I’d find a friend.

Thank you, Grandma Sylvia. Thank you.