We slept until a little after twelve when the insistent ringing of the phone finally woke us in a tangle of legs, arms and bedding.
Dave answered the phone and I heard one half of the following conversation:
"Sorry, I had no idea it was that late. I sort of met somebody last night and, well if you don't mind, I'd like to skip lunch."
Dave turned to me and said, "Do you have plans for today?"
"Not really" I answered with a smile.
Yeah, I know we are catching the red-eye tomorrow morning. Thanks, I knew you would understand. Seven it is and make a reservation for three." Dave said into the phone
After hanging up the phone Dave turned to me and kissed the tip of my nose then both eyes and then my mouth and asked, "What would you like to do today?"
"Well if this were the states I would say find a pancake house and have a short stack, two fried eggs, hash browns and bacon with a pot of strong black coffee." I answered.
"I miss American breakfasts when I'm over here too, but I feel like we both could use some fresh air and a walk." He said.
"Have you looked outside, it's pouring! How can we take a walk and get fresh air? Are you thinking of one of the Paris' museums full of dehumidified air and dead art?" I asked.
He laughed and said, "No I was thinking of a taxi to near the Place de la Republic and a long walk back from there to near this hotel."
"With umbrellas I hope!" I exclaimed.
"No umbrellas and only mad dashes across streets into secret passages, well not really secret, but not that well known either." He said with a smile.
"I can't exactly go for a walk in Paris on a rainy day in a cocktail dress and high heels, secret passages or no secret passages." I said.
"Take a shower and I'll go get some croissants and then after that we'll figure out how to spend the day." He said as he pulled his pants on and began to button his shirt while slipping into boat shoes without socks.
He was out the door before I could even get in the shower. He must have returned while I was using the hair dryer because I never heard him come in, but when I walked back into the bedroom there was a pot of coffee, croissants, pain au raisin and several sacks of clothes.
"What's all this?" I said looking at the bags.
Dave pulled out three identical pairs of black leather pants, three identical grey silk blouses and three identical black leather vests and said, "I got things in what I thought your size would be and then one side higher and one side lower to be on the safe side, but if my guess is right these will fit." He said pulling out the silk blouse, pants and vest that in fact were my sizes.
"How did you know my sizes?" I asked.
"Sisters," he answered with a grin.
"What about the other sets of clothes?" I asked.
"They said they would take them back." He answered.
"Well you are fast, decisive and have taste that's all I can say. But you forgot one thing. I can't go for a very long walk in these heels because my feet will be killing me." I laughed.
"Well I just guess our first stop will have to be a shoe shop." He said.
"What planet are you from? I have never heard of a man anywhere willing to go shopping for shoes with a woman." I said thinking this guy will make some lucky woman a remarkable husband.
….
After buying shoes and taking a taxi to a spot in the middle of a non-descript street we emerged into a Paris that I had not seen before in any of my other trips to that city. At first the covered passages were a little down market filled with tailors and small shops of recent immigrants trying to eek out a living in Paris. We stopped and had falafel for breakfast and then meandered along occasionally running across a wet street in the rain to the entrance to another passage. When Dave led me into the Caire Passage I was amazed at all the small dress shops and their stylish clothes and I was even more amazed at how much he enjoyed buying me several outfits. Dave was a fan of Victor Hugo and when he led me into The Court of Miracles and explained to me why it was called that I listened in interest as I began to realize that I had never enjoyed a man's company this much before in my life.
I knew that I did not have to be coy and play games with this guy. I knew that the chemistry between us was definitely there after last night, but my attraction to him was far more than just sex.
He was interesting and he was interested. He was not only interesting to listen to and to talk to, but he was genuinely interested in what I had to say too. He was fun and without pretense. Why hadn't I ever met someone like him before I asked myself? And then I thought even if I had would I have had the sense to realize that this was the genuine article?
Suddenly, for the first time, even after Lanaken, I felt like a whore. I liked this guy. I liked him so much it hurt and I was deceiving him. I felt cheap. I felt undeserving of his affection for me and mine for him that I could feel growing by the minute.
Dave felt the change in my mood and said, "Is your brother worried? Maybe you ought to give him a call?"
"No that's not necessary; he lives in a small rat-hole of a garret with two other guys. It's about the size of your room and I am not staying with him so he doesn't know I didn't come home last night." I said. When Dave asked me where I was staying I suddenly realized that once you start making up lies you had to keep going and you had to be consistent and remember what you had said. I answered, "I'm staying with my father at the Hotel Crillon, but he had to go to Stockholm on business yesterday and won't be home until later tonight or tomorrow."
Around five in the afternoon we went back to the Crillon so that I could put away my new clothes and change for dinner. At the desk the desk clerk asked me to wait a minute and the hotel manager came out and asked me to come into his office for a minute. I turned to Dave and told him I would be just a minute. I did not know what to expect when I went into his office and then the hotel manager said, "I am afraid that I have some very bad news for you. I have been contacted by the police in Stockholm and your father has suffered a very severe heart attack."
I sat there totally speechless at first stupidly thinking how could this man no my father has had a heart attack and how did my father know I was here and then suddenly it hit me. Martin!
The hotel director continued, "The Crillon will be of as much assistance to you as we possibly can Mrs. Jaspers (my last name since marrying Jeremy). We will do everything in our power to try and help you in this painful time. Our concierge is at your disposal to help you in booking a flight to Stockholm and we would like to offer you one of the hotel limousines to take you to the airport…"
"How did they know Martin was a guest here?" I interrupted.
"Mr. McAlister had his room key card still in its brochure that we give them to the guests in. He was found by a woman he knew from long ago, a Gisela Hojer who he had spoken to the day before. I think she lives in the same house where your father has an apartment. When she asked how long he would be staying in Stockholm, actually I think it is a place called Stocksund just outside of Stockholm, he told her only a few days as he would be rejoining friends that he had left behind at the Hotel Crillon in Paris. When Madame Hojer called the ambulance the police got that information as well as the information from the brochure and simply gave us a call as did Madame Hojer."
"How serious is it?" I asked.
