Continued from Part IJack was just about to enjoy his Herald Tribune newspaper and a late breakfast, his favorite combination, when he heard someone calling his name. Just as he thought, the impossible or perhaps the inevitable had happened; Billie Tilemore was here in Paris. They had not seen each other since that summer evening at her house over on Maryland’s Eastern Shore.
Without waiting for an invitation, Billie walked as if she owned the place, around the entrance of the cafe her shopping bags clearing a path and leaving a few cups and spoons trailing behind and the staff shaking their heads in disbelief. Billie put her bags in one of the open chairs and sat down leaning forward waiting to be kissed. Despite her bright red lipstick, she looked good, damn good and Jack couldn’t help but notice all of it, as had most of Paris he was sure, with her strikingly long legs balanced precariously in a pair of French stilts. Definately, she had turned heads.
“Jack are you planning on ordering me a cup of coffee, I mean a “cafee” since we are in “Paree”, or does a girl simply have to do everything herself these days. I just know there must be more gentlemen in Paris than in my little corner of the world back-home, don’t you think so Jack? Do you know I have been shopping ever since I don’t know when, but it seems like forever to me and I do believe my feet are simply killing me, look at feet Jack do they look red and ugly to you I know they must but you do still like them right?”
Billie had a certain way about her when she talked it seemed to go on and on in several different directions with questions thrown in when it suited her. Now here she was in Paris and she wasn’t about to change not for anything nor anyone. Jack had tried to help her with her French accent but it was more frustrating and so he tried his best to ignore that which could not be changed.
Billie started to wave a gloved hand at someone, anyone for all she cared, who would take her order. Jack calmly put her hand down before she started on her “garkon oh garkon!” Jack said in a patient, almost fatherly tone of voice but with a slight smile “now Billie you let me handle all of this; now would you just like just coffee or are you hungry after walking all over Paris and buying presents for half of the free world?”
“Oh Jack, I would simply die for one of those little crescents with my coffee, and tell that nice garkon not to make it to strong, because you know it gives me a headache and I’m not much fun when I have a headache if I dare say so myself.”
Jack folded his paper neatly and put it away, he would not be reading it any time soon. The world might have come to an end on page one for all he knew. Jack relaxed and asked
“Now what a pleasant surprise and tell me what brings you to Paris, I have to say Billie you’re the last person I would have expected to see in the City of Lights and where are you staying. I trust everything is fine at home, with you and the house. I don’t how long it’s been since we last saw each other it seems like forever.”
“Oh Jack, I’m staying at simply the most divine hotel on the Avenue George V, it truly is the cat’s meow and everybody seems to be so lovely and nice to me. I’m sure you know the hotel because you’ve spoken so often about it that I couldn’t help but remember, you see? Anyway, I shan’t be in Paris but for another day and I just had to get in some last minute shopping. I simply adore the shopping and I must have spent oodles of French money, it’s sinful really but had I not then I would have been so upset with myself for being a sensible gal in Paris of all places.”
It seemed like an eternity before Jack decided to answer the hotel question, thinking to himself should I give my hotel or another place across town, should I move to another hotel under cover of darkness, there had to be a way to get out.
“Well of course I know the hotel Billie and your absolutely right I have spoken of it and quite often so I’m glad you took me up on my suggestion. How’s that coffee now, not too too strong for you? So tell me are you just playing tourist or is there more to this shopping story than meets the eye, perhaps some lover whose heart has been torn open and is now floating in the Seine?”
Billie leaned forward a little closer and looked at Jack, pausing for a moment, a slight wrinkle on her brow, then a smile that came up quickly and faded just as fast.
“Now Jack let me ask you one simple little bitty question and you don’t have to answer but I will most definitely be hurt if you don’t. Did you enjoy the fireworks display this past summer at my place?” It was a question framed in a pout. She pulled out her cigarette holder and placed a cigarette waiting for a light to mysteriously appear and it did.
Indeed they had a grand time at her house on the creek near the Chesapeake Bay. Jack enjoyed going there and had always been intrigued with The House Across the Creek. One hot, muggy evening, after an excellent dinner they had been treated to a magnificent fireworks display orchestrated by the owners from the sprawling house across the creek. It had been a special moment and a special night as well.
He answered Billie with a little grin
“Now Billie remind me again are we talking about the fireworks outside or the ones behind closed doors?”
“Oh you’re simply rotten when you want to be do you know that Jack Dearborn and if I wasn’t raised properly I most surely would have thrown something in your direction. You know as well as I do what I’m talking about. I don’t care about your answer, if truth be told, but anyway it was rotten of you to disappear on me like that, the very next morning and I have to find you here in Paris!”
“There was so much work that needed to be done to an important deal in fact that’s what brought me to Paris and I things to finish up, the dog got sick, I was on the West Coast and..”
It was lame, Jack knew it as well as anyone and the jury wasn’t buying it.
“Jack your simply acting like a silly goose with all those stories but how is loveable Monsieur Louie and did he eat your homework as well and speaking of the old boy is he better now?”
“Nothing that spending a small fortune at the vets won’t cure; you know how they are, they see Mr. Louie strolling in and they see dollars. But he’s good now and yes loveable as ever.”
“So where are you staying in Paris, Jack? I venture to say I wouldn’t be the least surprised if you told me you were cloistered with some little French girl in, what’s that place again Jack, clee-she or is it mont-marse?”
Before Jack could frame his answer and diplomatically correct her French, Billie was off in another direction
“Oh Jack I simply must show you the most adorable pair of heels I have ever laid my eyes on and don’t you know I spent a small fortune on them, I won’t even tell you how much but they’re worth every single American dime and they will look simply divine at the club back home.”
With that Billie dove in her shopping bags and surfaced holding an elegant pair of women’s heels. Jack nodded and smiled not knowing what else to say, yes shoes with extra long heels he thought, not bad at all actually. If she did appear at the club wearing those, which screamed oo-la-la naughty French, the good ‘ol trust fund boys would be following her around like a bunch of lost puppies without their Martinis or maybe more like pickled hunters on opening day of goose season.
“I just knew you would love them Jack and if I ever see you again I promise to wear them just for you. Do you like that idea? Oh, I forgot something” Billie dove into another bag and surfaced a moment later with a small box.
Billie suddenly looked like a little kid who was all excited and about to open a surprise
“Jack, remember that time when you told me about the Caron story, the French perfume house and your father knowing the Caron lady or something like that, anyway I was at the perfume counter and just had to purchase a bottle of Fleurs de Rocaille and thank goodness I finally found someone who spoke English in Paris because I could not have pronounced it comme-il-faut as you so often say Jack.”
Jack had indeed mentioned to Billie that when his grandparents lived in Paris in the late 20’s early 30’s the apartment above theirs, on the Boulevard Suchet, was occupied by one of the leading figures responsible for bringing fame and fortune to Maison Caron. And yes later, after the war when his father and mother returned to Paris they had dined with “Madame” and his father has worked closely with her for a couple of years until she resigned the Caron’s leadership. It was one of those little stories, one of many that he enjoyed telling and not everyone appreciated or could even understand them. Billie, somehow, just seemed to just get it.
“I think you picked a great perfume and it’s one of their oldest and may have been introduced around the early 1930’s. I can remember my father bringing home more Caron perfume than you can ever imagine, of every shape and size and especially the bottles of eau de toilette which of course we delighted in calling, at every opportunity, toilet water.”
Billie continued on and on shifting from one topic to another without so much as a pause. If you let your mind wander for just a moment Billie would inevitably drop one of her lines “isn’t that right Jack” or “well Jack, what do you think?” She would reel you back in to focus only on her.
Jack hailed a cab across the Place St Germain des Prés and they both returned to the Right Bank and the Hotel George V all the while Billie reminding Jack had she only known they were both going to be in Paris “why it would have been simply wonderful, don’t you agree Jack?”
That evening Jack found himself at the George V bar waiting for Madame Billie herself. He saw here come in through the double glass doors looking about as far removed from Maryland’s Eastern shore as anything he had seen. She looked classic, sexy and French and proudly wearing her new Parisian heels. Her perfume was Caron, of course. Billie had carefully orchestrated the first movement of the evening.
“Jack, are you just going to stand there and see how many flies you can catch with your mouth open or are you going to say something?
Jack finally let go of his drink which he was squeezing to within an inch of its life.
“Billie you look truly incredible I must say and may I offer the lady a cocktail?”
They had dinner in the 7th arrondissement at Les Cocottes de Christian Constant on the rue St-Dominique. Les Cocottes draws a super-chic crowd of locals who love Constant’s brand new eating concept. The buzz was that Sarko (President Sarkozy) was there recently with ten of his closest friends. Billie and Jack looked over the menu deciding between shoulder of lamb confite, boulangere potatoes or the cocotte of wood pigeon which comes with a purée of creamy potatoes. Jack decided on the contre filet à la plancha and mixed salad and Billie took aim at a Feuilleté of game and creamy scrambled eggs with truffles. They shared a bottle of Pic Saint Loup 2005. For desert they shared a tarte au chocolat de Christian Constant, served with crème Chantilly and a Waffle à la Chantilly, chocolate, caramel and beurre demi sel. The cab ride home was quiet, two people happy and content with one another. They could see the Eiffel Tower alive with lights as they crossed back over to the Right Bank stopping in front of the George V. The walked into the lobby arm-in-arm and made their way to Bobbie’s suite.
That morning Bobbie finished her packing for the afternoon flight back to Washington, DC.
She walked over to Jack who had his head buried in the Tribune and gently puting aside the paper and after carefully brushing away that imaginary piece of lint on his suit, she looked at him for a moment without saying a word then spoke
“Why Jack Dearborn, I have to say I truly had a simply glorious evening and I have you to thank for that. Never mind about what happens or does not happen when we are both back home, just promise me something Jack, will you please? Promise me we’ll always have Paris?”