a stray strand of my hair back into place. “How long have you been here in Paris?”
“About three years. Long enough to explore the city on my own,” Marc replied. He withdrew a mini Moleskine notebook from the side pocket of his bag. “This has all my secrets and tips including the best places to eat. If you guess my job, you’ll get to see it. I’m surprised you haven’t made an attempt yet.”
“I need more data and time. I don’t want to guess unless I’m sure.” Game nights with the cousins, along with the softball tourney every summer, guaranteed my generation’s spirit of competitiveness. Plus, guessing the right answer too early wouldn’t be in my best interests.
Ten
This is the best sandwich I have ever tasted,” I declared before taking another bite.
Marc grinned. “Croque monsieur is one of the many local delicacies. It’s a simple sandwich with three vital components: great bread, ham, and melted cheese. Simple, but fantastic.”
The crisp, buttery bread contrasted with the spicy, textured Dijon, salty paper-thin slices of smoked ham, and scorched, melted Emmentaler over it all. The extra ingredient was arugula, which added a touch of peppery bitterness. I’d never been a sandwich person, but today I was converted. The quality of the bread was the catalyst. It was fresh and thick. Everything before had been on the chewy side, reminding me of glorified masticated leather.
The crust on this bread crumbled under the perfect pressure, and the delightful crackling noises it made in my mouth were culinary fireworks. The distinct aroma of it being freshly baked added to its allure.
“That’s about how I reacted when I had my first sandwich here. I’ll have you know that this is good, very good even, but not the best.”
I wanted to protest, but I kept my mouth shut for fear I’d lose the delicious contents inside.
“My job is what brought me here. What brings you to Paris?” he asked.
His career was creative and required specific relocation. I filed the tidbit away. “I’m keeping my aunt company. She is opening up a tea shop on rue de Montalembert.”
“That area has a ton of tourist traffic. She should do well there. Is she making her own or importing?”
“The family business is tea imports. I think she also makes her own blends because my aunties keep asking for custom mixes.”
Auntie Faye and Ma would often consult with Aunt Evelyn regarding special blends for a host of ailments, from something as innocuous as a unique iced tea to serve to important guests to embarrassing cures for problems I didn’t even want to know about. My aunt had kept business talk to a minimum. I imagined she would open up more once I started helping her out at the shop.
“There are more food places to try tomorrow,” he said. “I can also take you to more attractions.”
I wiped the corners of my mouth. “You’re being awfully nice. I can see why Canadians have the reputation.”
“I’m supposed to keep my mind off work right now, and this is the best distraction. You are doing me a favor. Besides, I wish I had a tour guide when I first arrived.”
I added stressful job to my mental list of clues. Marc tapped the tabletop with his long, slim fingers. He had a few calluses along with a thin, faded mark on the side of his thumb pad. Not a desk job, I concluded. The air of mystery around him thickened like the celestial clouds of Bouguereau’s paintings.
“You at least knew the language.” I kept my eyes trained on his face and away from his espresso to avoid any spontaneous predictions. I didn’t want this, whatever this was with Marc, to end yet.
“It helps,” he laughed, tapping a rhythm on the table. “We should do Versailles tomorrow and Giverny the next day, and leave the huge attractions for the last day. What do you think? Is there anything you’re dying to see first?”
“I’m open to anything. You won’t be bored seeing these places again?”
“Not at all, and I needed the time off anyway. My boss was getting a little too cranky. It’s been building for a few months, but it’s been terrible lately. Something set him off. Everyone at work has been trying to figure out what. We’re even running a pool.” Marc frowned and his dark brows knitted together. “He’s one of the kindest people I know, but he’s criticizing everyone for the smallest offenses, and his dark mood is ruining everyone else’s.”