I’ve just returned from a wonderful holiday in Paris, one of the most beautiful cities I’ve ever seen. And of course, the plot bunnies kept on hopping all the time we were there. I hope you enjoy this short contemporary story that hopped out of my head.
Merry Christmas. Happy Holidays. However you celebrate, may it be joyous.
(All photographs (c) Riana Everly)
Christmas in Paris
by Riana Everly
What was she doing here? Elizabeth should have said no. Should have seen if she could cancel the hotel reservation and get a refund on her air ticket. When Jane had slipped on the ice and broken her leg, that should have been the end of the planned trip to Paris, but always selfless, Jane had insisted that Elizabeth go without her, and foolishly, Elizabeth had agreed.
Now she was here, alone, in a city she didn’t know during the coldest, shortest days of the year.
May as well make the best of it, she chided herself. She didn’t mind being alone, and there were enough museums and interesting sites to keep her happy and occupied for the full length of her stay. Pity about that annoying man staying in the room opposite hers in the apartment Jane had booked.
She’d met Willliam before, just once. It had not been a pleasant encounter, and Elizabeth walked away convinced that William was the most infuriating, arrogant man she’d ever encountered. He had responded to their introduction with a grunt, hadn’t offered to shake hands, and a few minutes later, knowing she could hear him, opined to Charlie, Jane’s boyfriend, that Elizabeth wasn’t interesting enough to talk to, even though he was the one who had said barely a word.
And now here he was, in the same apartment. There was some arrangement he’d made with Charlie, which hadn’t really mattered when Elizabeth thought she’d be here with Jane. The two best friends would be out together all the time, and could ignore their conceited flatmate, who was here on business and who said he would be busy all the time.
But being alone, and not wanting to eat by herself at restaurants every night, Elizabeth found herself in the apartment’s little living room more often than she’d planned, and all too often, William was there as well. So much for being tied up with work 24 hours a day.
It had now been two days since she’d arrived, just a few days before Christmas. She’d spent the morning wandering along the banks of the Seine, admiring the majestic river as it flowed purposefully through the city, before making her way to the Pantheon, a monument to the state of France, and home to the final resting places for some of France’s greatest luminaries. Now, with a fresh baguette, a hunk of some fragrant cheese, a bottle of red wine, and a rather decadent-looking mini cake that she’d seen in the patisserie, she settled herself at the small table for a cliché dinner and the movie she had downloaded on her laptop computer.
“Is that what you’re eating?”
The arrogant voice pulled her out of the romance she was watching. She stifled a groan.
“What else do you see?” she retorted. Surely the man could not be that dense.
“Bread and cheese aren’t exactly healthy. You need a more balanced diet.”
Elizabeth raised the bottle of wine. “Fruit,” she declaimed, “and beans. Cocoa beans, in the form of this cake.” Her teeth hurt from being clenched so hard.
“You should eat some vegetables.”
“And you should mind your own business.”
William grimaced. “I’m sorry. I meant well.” He turned and disappeared into his room for the rest of the night. Thank heavens for small mercies.
The next morning, he appeared as Elizabeth was fumbling with the coffee maker in the small kitchen. These gadgets were always different, and she never knew which button would produce the brew she needed before setting out for the day.
“The instructions are on the back.” That same irritating voice was like fingernails on a blackboard. Except it wasn’t the voice that rankled, but the words and the speaker. The voice itself, she grudgingly had to admit, was remarkably nice, deep and resonant. She briefly wondered if he sang.
Nonsense. She tsked internally. He probably thinks music is a frivolous waste of time.
But he was also correct. The instructions were indeed on the back, and it was with some annoyance that Elizabeth had to thank him as the precious black liquid filled her cup. She held out the croissant she had bought the evening before, just to vex him.
“Is this a suitable breakfast? Or should I be eating something with more vegetables?”
To his credit, William flushed pink. It somehow made his stern, too-rigid appearance more human, almost appealing.
“I was out of line last night. You are an adult, and are on holiday. You can eat what you like. I, uh… I had the same thing. A croissant. They really are very good here. I was out early, when the patisserie at the corner opened. I, uh, I bought one for you as well. In case you wanted another one, that is.” He flushed even deeper pink.
“Oh. Thank you. That was thoughtful.”
He nodded and disappeared into his room once more, emerging a short time later in his suit and tie, ready for another day of meetings or whatever it was that he did.
He joined her that evening at the little table. He had bought a couple of types of cheese and another bottle of wine that someone had recommended, and he made a small salad to go with them.
“Vegetables,” he proclaimed with a grin. He pushed his dark hair off his face, making it stick up in funny angles. It looked good on him. “There’s enough for two, if you want.”
The salad did look good. And after so much bread and cheese, Elizabeth was ready for something fresh. She smiled and accepted the peace offering.
“What did you do today?” William sounded genuinely interested. “All I’m doing is listening to one dull presentation after another. I could use some distractions.”
“Don’t you have any time to see the city?” Where did that come from? Surely, Elizabeth considered, she didn’t really care about what William did. But she sat forward in her chair regardless, waiting for his reply.
“Not much.” His face fell. “They really keep us busy all day. I’d love to see some art, or wander through an old church. But unfortunately, I’m not here to enjoy myself. This conference is too important.”
“What type of art do you like?” She hadn’t meant to ask that either.
He grinned at her, one side of his mouth rising higher than the other. It made him look boyish, and rather too handsome. “Is it too trite to say I love the Impressionists?”
Elizabeth’s smile snuck through. Traitor. “I love them too. You must make time to get to the Musée d’Orsay. It’s not too far from here. There’s also a small museum I want to visit, the Marmottan Monet museum. With lots of Monet.” She grimaced. “That sounded rather foolish, didn’t it?”
William chuckled. “Perhaps a bit redundant.” But his tone was teasing, not reproachful. “You’ll have to go and tell me all about it. I’d hardly know I’m away from home at all.”
She glanced at the clock on the microwave. The blue numbers read 6:57. Not so late.
“Put on your coat. Yes, now. Let’s go for a walk. I can’t let you not see anything, and Paris is glorious at night. Come on. The salad can wait.”
It turned out to be a fine plan. Paris was lovely after the sun went down and the city came alive with lights. Beautiful winter fairy gardens waited in the most unexpected places, twinkling trees adorned the Champs-Élysées, and the illuminated bridges turned the dark river into a magical canvas. In the distance, the Eiffel Tower sparkled in a shower of glittering lights. William laughed. It was quite a lovely sound.
“Do they do that for the tourists?” he asked, gazing at the tower. “I suppose they must. I feel rather embarrassed to say how much I like it.”
“When in Paris,” Elizabeth replied. “I like it too.”
They settled into a pattern, enjoying breakfast and dinner together, and then wandering the city’s beautiful streets by night. As much as she enjoyed her daytime explorations, Elizabeth found herself looking more and more forward to the moment when William would return to their apartment after his conference, so they could eat and talk and wander.
In the darkness of the winter night, hats pulled low over their ears and scarves wrapped warmly around their necks, they strolled towards the magnificent grands magasins with their spectacular Christmas windows, or through the crush of the Christmas markets. And when a sudden wind blew in from nowhere and Elizabeth shivered, William stepped closer to her and raised his arm. It was an invitation she was happy to accept, and she snuggled in against his side.
What madness was this? She… she couldn’t actually like him, could she? But his arm pulled her closer and she cuddled in closer, and they wandered like this until far too late, arm in arm, soaking in the light-flooded darkness of this glorious city.
The days flew by now, until it was Christmas Eve. Only two more days until her trip was over and it was time to fly home. It was too soon, really. Elizabeth had seen so much of Pairs, but there was something else now that anchored her to the place. William’s conference was scheduled for another few days, and she was beginning to realise how much she would miss him once she left. They had rubbed along so much better than she’d ever imagined, but their companionship would all too soon be over.
She wondered if they’d see each other once they returned home. They’d only met once before; it seemed unlikely. Didn’t it?
“You’re quiet,” William said as they sipped their wine. “Sad to be away from home at Christmas?”
She looked up at him, at his beautiful dark eyes, now concerned under pinched brows. When had he become so handsome? She was really going to miss him.
“No, it’s not about Christmas. My family is so spread out, we never really get together anyway. It’s more…” How could she finish this without embarrassing herself? “I’m going to miss… I’m going to miss Paris.”
“You don’t leave until the morning of the 26th. And I don’t have meetings tomorrow. Let’s spend the day together. Nothing is open, but you can show me all the sites I’ve missed. Shall we? I’m going to… I’m going to miss Paris when I get home as well.” His eyes held hers.
They walked the whole day, just wandering down alleys and along broad boulevards, up magnificent elegant avenues and by slightly seedy establishments, until at last, they climbed their way up Montmarte, to where Sacre Coeur presided in glowing white splendour. The sun was hovering low on the horizon, its golden glow gilding the city.
“It’s beautiful,” Elizabeth whispered as she nestled herself tighter against William’s side.
“Yes, you are,” he whispered in return. “I mean…” He blushed again. He was rather cute when he did that. “I didn’t mean to imply… I shouldn’t presume…”
Was this what she’d been missing? Was this her opportunity? It was now or never.
“You’re quite beautiful too.” She looked right at him as she spoke. It was too late to second guess herself, too late to pretend nothing had changed.
“When we get home…. If you want to, that is… We could…” She started to speak, but she had no time to complete her thoughts, because his face was too close to hers and his lips too tempting, and suddenly he was kissing her, or she was kissing him, or even better, they were kissing each other.
“Yes, I think I’d like that very much. Merry Christmas, Elizabeth.”
Leave a Reply