The Adventures of Mademoiselle Mac 2-Book Bundle Read Online Free PDF

cobwebs lifted from my brain, I realized it was rain on the dome above my room. It sounded like handful after handful of pebbles being tossed down on the roof as the wind wrapped around the windows with a comforting hush. Soon all comfort departed as my nose was attacked by the pungent odour of beets boiling below, beets with leeks or onions. Yech! My hunger was more powerful than my revulsion as I climbed down the stairs to Rudee’s room. It occurred to me that he was trying to find a new way to drive me back to my classmates. Humming along to some intense organ music, he was contentedly stirring the awful concoction. I sniffed around for a morsel of bread or even some stinky cheese.
    â€œ Bonjour , Miss Mac,” Rudee grinned, “hungry?” He read my expression and laughed. “Oh, don’t fret. I know girls, and some women, don’t like beets, especially for breakfast, but where I come from, it’s the vegetable of kings.”
    Before I could ask where exactly that was, he closed his eyes and raised his head in happy concentration. “Listen, Mac, listen and savour genius. Vladimir Ughoman, the famous composer. Ahhh.”
    Then abruptly, he said, “Okay, let’s go,” as he snapped off his record player, grabbed his coat, and tossed me my duck’s head umbrella. We raced through the downpour across the churchyard. “What do you say to a croissant and some fruit juice at CAFTA ?”
    The café was as busy as it had been the night before. Groups of cabbies were drinking out of steaming cups, checking their lottery tickets, and talking. I saw Blag arm-wrestling some helpless victim at a table near the kitchen.
    â€œHey Rudee, Mac,” a voice called across the room, and Dizzy waved us over to a table he was sharing with another driver. After a round of backslapping and secret handshakes, Dizzy said, “Mac, I want you to meet Mink Maynard.”
    A small, dark-haired man with a furry beatnik beard greeted me with a sleepy smile and a low, rumbling voice. “ Mon plaisir, m’dear, what brings you here?”
    I glanced at Rudee. “My dad’s a friend of Rudee’s. I’m visiting from Upper Mandeville in California.”
    â€œ Très cool, but I’m no fool,” purred Mink, “you must be King Daddy’s girl from halfway round the world.”
    Rudee and Dizzy laughed, and Dizzy explained, “Mink’s the drummer in the Hacks. King Daddy’s an old nickname for your dad. Mink also writes the lyrics for our songs.” Turning to Mink, he added, “You don’t have to prove it. We know you can rhyme.”
    â€œAnd keep time,” Mink said to groans from his friends.
    Breakfast arrived and filled the table, but it was soon just dishes and crumbs. Pushing back their chairs, Rudee and the boys did their secret handshake again, which by now was no secret to me.
    â€œPractice Saturday? The usual?” said Rudee to nods from the others.
    Dizzy nodded. “Ten-four.”.
    â€œAnd out the door,” rhymed Mink as he headed for the exit.

    Rudee said it was time for me to see a bit of Paris, even if it was raining. I persuaded him to drop me off at the student residence so I could check in and suggested we meet at the Pont Neuf taxi stand. This time the sidewalk was empty, so I waited until my group emerged with Penelope in the lead. She was wearing a Coco Chanel–inspired blue-and-white striped top and white capris, along with a severely pouty expression.
    â€œAh, ma chère Mac, we meet again.”
    â€œPenelope, I’m sorry. There’s a lot going on. I’ll have to tell you later.”
    â€œI assume this means you’d like to be excused from our visit to La Tour Eiffel, which will be followed by tea and macaroons at Ladurée,” she responded petulantly.
    I shrugged sheepishly.
    â€œOkay,” she said, assuming a take-charge tone, “take your shoe off and rub your ankle.