Capturing Paris Read Online Free PDF Page B

Annie, leaving behind the faintest scent of lilac. Annie felt staid and predictable as she stood in her wake. She loved English expressions like “diary” for calendar and “ringing” people on the phone. She knew it was unlikely that Daphne’s connection in publishing would come to anything, but she was pleased that Daphne had taken an interest in her poems.
    â€œLet’s walk along the river,” Wesley said. “I think the sun’s coming out.” The strong coffee after lunch had revived them. Annie reached for Wesley’s arm. After the good food and lively conversation, his handsome features had regained their definition. They turned down rue Séguier, a narrow side street that led to the Seine. Tourists would be unlikely to stroll this street without any shops or cafés in view. Indeed, like many quiet Paris streets, it looked like a tired old gentleman whose worn but well-tailored elegant clothes were now faded and smelled of closed rooms and tinned soup.
    â€œYou seem to have cheered up,” Annie said.
    â€œIt was a good party. Daphne was different from most of Céleste and Georges’s guests.”
    â€œYou and Georges seemed to like her,” she said, smiling up at him.
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean, Annie?”
    â€œI’m just teasing.” She looked up at the sky. The afternoon light was on the wane. “What did you talk about at your end of the table?”
    â€œMostly about Daphne’s antiques business. Madeleine should get in touch with her.” Turning away Wesley breathed in the wet air coming off the Seine. “Georges sure is generous with the red wine.”
    Annie said nothing. The Seine surged along below them, a dark turbulent gray but a tough blue sky began to push through the clouds.
    â€œSo, are you going to call her?” he asked.
    â€œMaybe.” She started to tell him that she’d seen Daphne a few days ago in the Métro, but she decided against it.
    â€œLet me see her card,” he said.
    Annie pulled it out of her pocket and held it up. The words God House stood out in raised black ink against the heavy cream paper. A phone number was printed below. Wesley made a motion to reach for it, and Annie, laughing, leaned into him and kissed him on the lips. His mouth felt warm and soft despite the cold air. He didn’t allow his lips to linger but withdrew his arm from hers to turn his collar up against the wind. She thrust the card back into the depths of her coat pocket. Masses of steel-gray clouds had quickly swallowed up the patch of blue sky.

THREE
    L’Invitation
    â€œI don’t mind the cold, but I’m sick of the dark.”Wesley picked up the kettle , stopping the shrill whistle. “It doesn’t get light until nearly eight-thirty now.” He poured the boiling water over the coffee filter, releasing a nutty warmth as the brown stream trickled into the glass carafe. He preferred his coffee black, unlike Annie, who’d adopted the French custom of drinking café au lait in the morning, half strong coffee and half hot milk. His face had already lost the relaxed, peaceful expression he’d worn in sleep. He looked somewhat disheveled in a faded checked flannel shirt loosely tucked into the corduroy pants he’d worn all week. When he’d worked at Wilson & James, he wore neat dark suits with a crisp white shirt and silk tie, the clothes of a successful attorney in a sophisticated city.
    â€œSpeaking of the dark,” Annie said, “it’s almost the winter solstice.” She hoped talking about the party might lift his spirits. “I’ve asked everyone for the nineteenth this year.” The Reeds hosted an annual dinner party to celebrate the winter solstice. Annie had started this tradition when they first moved to Paris. She liked the idea of giving a party just before Christmas and lighting the apartment entirely with candles during this