Honor Thyself Read Online Free PDF Page A

be wonderful being in Paris after all these years.
    She wanted to walk past her old house near the rue Jacob, on the Left Bank, and pay homage to the two and a half years she had spent there. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She had been younger than Stevie when she left Paris. Her son, Anthony, who was eleven then, had been delighted to come back to the States. Chloe had been seven and was sad to leave Paris and her friends there. She had spoken perfect French. They had been eight and four when they first went there, when Carole was making a movie in Paris. The film had taken eight months, and they had stayed on for two years after that. It seemed like a big chunk of time then, especially in young lives, and even to her. And now she was going back, on a pilgrimage of sorts. She had no idea what she'd find there, or how she'd feel. But she was ready. She could hardly wait to leave. She realized now that it was an important step in writing the book. Maybe going back would free her, and open the doors that were sealed so tightly. Sit ting at her computer in Bel-Air, she couldn't pry them open. But maybe there the doors would swing wide open on their own. It was what she hoped.
    Just knowing that she was going to Paris, Carole was able to write that night. She sat at her computer for hours after Stevie left, and was back at it the next morning when she arrived.
    She dictated some letters, paid her bills, and did a last few errands. By the time she left for the airport the next day, Carole was ready. She chatted animatedly with Stevie on the way to the airport, remembering last details, of what to tell the gardener, some things she'd ordered that would arrive while she was away.
    “What do I tell the kids, if they call?” Stevie asked as they reached the airport, and she took Carole's bag out of the station wagon. She was traveling light, so she could manage more easily on her own.
    “Just tell them I'm away,” Carole said easily.
    “In Paris?” Stevie was ever discreet, and only told people, even her children, what Carole told her she could say.
    “That's fine. It's not a secret. I'll probably call them at some point myself. I'll call Chloe before I go to London at the end. I want to see what I decide to do first.” She loved the feeling of freedom she had, traveling on her own, and making decisions about her destinations day by day. It was rare for her to be that spontaneous, and do whatever she wished. It seemed like a real gift.
    “Don't forget to tell me what you're doing,” Stevie chided. “I worry about you.” Probably more than her kids did, who were sometimes less aware, although they loved her. Stevie was almost maternal toward her at times. She knew the vulnerable side of Carole that others didn't see, the frail side, the one that hurt. To others, Carole showed tranquillity and strength, which wasn't always the case underneath.
    “I'll e-mail you when I get to the Ritz. Don't worry if you don't hear from me after that. If I go to Prague or Vienna or somewhere, I'll probably leave my computer in Paris. I don't want to bother with a lot of e-mail while I'm away. Sometimes it's fun to just write on legal pads. The change might do me good. I'll call if I need help.”
    “You better. Have fun,” Stevie said as she hugged her, and Carole smiled up at her.
    “Take care. Enjoy the break,” Carole said, as a porter took her bag and checked her in. She was traveling first class. He did a double-take as he looked at her and then smiled as he recognized her.
    “Well, hello, Miss Barber, and how are you today?” He was thrilled to meet the star face-to-face.
    “Just fine, thank you.” She smiled back. Her big green eyes lit up her face.
    “Going to Paris?” he asked, dazzled by her. She was as beautiful as she was on screen, and seemed friendly, warm, and real.
    “Yes, I am.” Just saying it felt good to her now, as though Paris was waiting for her. She gave him a good tip, and he tipped his hat to her, as two