My Secret Guide to Paris (9 page)

I
n bed that night, I lay there with Hedwig clutched to my chest, trying to go to sleep, wondering how it was possible to be in Paris and feel so miserable.

The treasure hunt had turned out nothing like I’d hoped. On top of that, my mother didn’t want anything to do with Grandma Sylvia, which meant that even if I got up the nerve to tell her about the notes and map, she’d never agree to go with me around the city to see what Grandma had left us.

The whole thing felt like trying to touch a cloud—completely impossible and hopeless.

I rolled over and looked at the clock. It was almost midnight. I wished I could get up and go for a walk. Paris was probably beautiful at midnight.

“Nora?” Mom whispered.

“Yeah?”

She rolled over and faced me. Our beds were near each other. Justin was on the other side of her, in the third single bed, snoring away. Every night, Mom had left the bathroom light on for me, with the door cracked. I hadn’t even asked her to do that.

There was just enough light to see her eyes, looking at me. She reminded me of the young beggar in the painting at the Louvre. All I could see was sadness.

“I’ve been thinking. About what you said earlier. When you asked me how come I haven’t wanted to talk about Grandma?” Her voice was shaky, and I could tell she was starting to cry. “I guess it’s because … I feel so guilty. About the years I let slip away. I thought if I ignored you when you talked about her, I could make the pain go away. But I think maybe I’ve figured out there’s nothing I can do to make it go away. It’s going to be something I have to learn to live with.”

I got up and went over to her bed and sat beside her. She sat up, sniffling. “I’m so sorry, honey,” she said. “I’m sorry you didn’t go to Paris with your grandma like you wanted to do. And I’m sorry I didn’t make up with her before she died.”

“Why were you so mad at her?” I asked. “I want to try and understand.”

She wiped the tears away with her thumbs. “When I was about your age, my best friend’s parents got divorced. It devastated my friend, Diana, and as a result, it devastated me. They’d always seemed like the perfect family to me. After Diana and her three siblings came home from school to find her dad had moved out, she came to my house and cried on my shoulder for an hour. It was the most heartbreaking thing I’d ever witnessed. After that, I begged my mom to promise me that her and my dad would never get divorced.” Tears slid down my mom’s face. “As she held me tight and stroked my hair, she promised that we would be a happy family forever, and I didn’t need to worry. And I believed her.”

“But, Mom—”

She didn’t let me finish. “I hung on to that promise because, like you, I was easily scared as a child. And when I got married and had kids and had more things to worry about, I’d go back to my mother’s words again and again, and they always made me feel better. No matter what, I was part of a happy family forever. That’s what I kept telling myself. So, a few years ago, when that happy family was shattered, and my mother broke her promise to me, it crushed me. It crushed me like nothing I’d ever experienced before, and I didn’t know how to handle it.”

She started to cry harder. I got up and went to the bathroom and grabbed a few tissues from the dispenser on the counter and brought them back to her.

“So because she wasn’t in love with Grandpa anymore,” I said as I sat back down on her bed, “it felt like she didn’t love you anymore, either?”

She wiped her nose with a tissue and tried to take a deep breath as she nodded. “It’s so crazy now, thinking about it. I pushed her away because I was hurt and mad, and I wanted her to hurt like I did. I was an adult, yet I was acting like a six-year-old.” She sniffled and wiped her nose again. “After some time had passed, I knew I’d made a mistake. But I didn’t know how to fix it. So I didn’t do anything. I kept hoping that she would come to me.”

“And she was going to,” I said. “That’s why she bought you the ticket to Paris.”

A couple more tears fell as she said, “But it was too late.” She reached up and stroked my cheek. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Finally, I knew. Finally, I had the answers to the questions I’d asked myself for years. And finally, my mother had apologized for what she’d done.

I scooted closer and put my arms around her. We cried together for a few minutes and then I whispered, “People make mistakes, Mom. I forgive you.”

There was someone else who forgave her, too. Grandma. Maybe I couldn’t help the poor, young beggar in the painting, but I could help my mom. And in the morning, that’s exactly what I planned to do.

Dear Lindy,

It’s Wednesday morning, and my mom and Justin are still sleeping. I met a girl named Phoebe from London, and she helped me go to a few of the places Grandma wanted me to visit. We had a lot of fun, but I don’t think her notes and the maps are clues to finding the key for the box. It seems like it’s something much bigger! I’m kind of confused about it all, actually. I’ve decided to tell my mom about it. I hope to have more to share when I get home!

Love, nora

*  *  *

My mom woke up, got out of bed, and started humming as she gathered clothes and then went into the bathroom to take a shower.

Justin groaned.

I began collecting everything I needed for the big reveal.

When Mom came out a while later, smiling and dressed, she asked, “Okay, who’s next?”

“Justin can go,” I said.

He groaned again, but eventually made his way to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Mom sat down on the bed next to me. “I’m glad we had that talk last night, Nora. I’m feeling better today.”

I took a deep breath. “Good. Because I need to tell you something.” I pulled the envelopes and map out from beneath my pillow. “Please don’t be mad, but I didn’t tell you the whole truth. The airplane tickets weren’t the only things I found in that old trunk. Grandma left me these.”

Mom looked over the map and the envelopes. “What is this?”

“Here. Read the first letter. It’ll explain things.”

While she read, I fidgeted like a kindergartner who’d been kept inside during recess. I had no way to know how she might react. When she was done, she kind of just stared at me, stunned.

I knew I needed to tell her everything. It was now or never. “I went to the first three places, Mom. On Monday. With my new friend, Phoebe. The thing is, Grandma left instructions with each of the people to only give me what Grandma had sent ahead of time if you were with me. I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but I’m telling you now, and I hope you can forgive me.”

She shook her head. “So wait. You and Justin split up?”

“Yes,” I squeaked.

She stood up. “He left you alone in a strange city?”

“I wasn’t alone, Mom. I was with Phoebe. And she’s been to Paris before. Plus, we had Grandma’s maps and instructions. Everything was fine.”

“You and your brother are both grounded when we get home, do you understand? That was not okay to do that. You were supposed to stick together.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” I said. “But please, can we talk about the notes? About the people and places Grandma wants us to visit? See, I want to take you to the first three places this morning, so you can meet her friends and we can see what gifts she left for us.”

She started pacing in front of the beds. “I don’t know, Nora. I have other things I want to do with our time.”

“It won’t take too long, I promise,” I told her, jumping off the bed. “I know exactly where to go and who to ask for. Please, Mom? Grandma went to so much trouble for us.”

She stopped pacing, crossed her arms, and sighed. “All right. We’ll go to the first three places. But I’m not making any promises about the rest quite yet.”

Justin came out of the bathroom then, and I ran in to get ready and let her explain to him what was going on.

When I emerged a while later, Mom told me Justin was going to explore on his own for the morning, but we’d meet up with him for lunch. I fingered the button I’d picked out to carry in my pocket. It was one of my favorites in the bunch. The entire button was a detailed owl face, complete with markings for the feathers, along with two beady eyes and a small beak. I told myself that telling my mother about the treasure hunt had been the wise thing to do, and hopefully everything would go smoothly from there on out.

Both Mom and I were happy to see the sun as we made our way to Jean-Paul Hévin’s for some hot chocolate. It seemed like maybe the sunshine was melting any bit of coldness that remained between the two of us, and I was thankful for that.

When we arrived at the café, we sat upstairs and, lucky for us, Annabelle was working again. She came right over when she saw us.

“
Bonjour
, Annabelle,” I said. “I’d like you to meet my mother, Faye.”

“So nice to meet you,” she said. “I’m sorry about your mother. She talked so fondly of you.”

My mother looked at her, surprised. “She did?”

“Oh yes. What is it you like to say in America? The apple of her eye?”

Mom smiled. “I suppose we do say that.”

“May I bring you two cups of
chocolat chaud
?” Annabelle asked. “Your mother told me when you were a child, Faye, she would ask you how many marshmallows you would like in your cup, and then you would count them out together.”

I looked at my mother. “You used to play that game with
me
! And Grandma did, too.”

“I can’t believe she mentioned that to you,” Mom said to Annabelle, looking as if the memory was like a piece of dark chocolate—a little bittersweet. “Yes. I suppose it’s a bit of a family tradition.”

“Unfortunately, we do not have marshmallows,” Annabelle replied, “but I am sure you will enjoy your drinks all the same.”

Before she left to get our order, I got up the nerve to ask if she might bring us the package Grandma had sent along as well.

“Oh, but of course! Thank you for reminding me.”

It wasn’t long before we had our mugs of steaming hot chocolate and a small package sitting on the table between us.

“Go on,” Mom told me as she picked up her mug. “I know you’re dying to open it.”

She was right. I was. I ripped open the package to find two small boxes, one with my name and one with my mom’s. Mom took hers as I popped the lid off of mine.

Inside was a simple pair of pearl earrings along with a short strand of pearls. My mouth dropped to the floor.

Really? For me?

“Oh my,” Mom said as she peered into her box. I glanced over as she picked up a teardrop earring with a gorgeous blue stone. She had a matching necklace as well.

“Jewelry,” I said. “She got us both jewelry.”

“But why?” Mom asked. “She didn’t leave a note, did she?”

I shook my head. “No. And there are six places left for us to visit. It may not make any sense until we have all the items. Can we hurry and drink our hot chocolates so we can go to the next place and see what’s there?”

“What
is
the next place?”

“It’s a really cool museum called the Orangerie.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of that one. It’s supposed to be wonderful.”

As I slipped our boxes into my messenger bag, I told her what it was like for me to see Monet’s water lilies. Almost as if I was sitting in his garden rather than looking at an art exhibit.

“I can’t wait to see it,” she said.

When we’d had our fill of chocolate, we took off for the museum.

Mom wanted to walk around and see the exhibits before we talked to Georges. I was really anxious to get the next package, but I didn’t want to annoy her, so I did as she said. After we spent time in the oval rooms, we wandered around and looked at some of the other pieces of art, something Phoebe and I hadn’t done before. Mom really loved the museum, and I think she was glad to know that the water lilies were Grandma’s favorite paintings.

When we made it to Georges’s office, he seemed truly happy to see us. “Your mother was such a sweet woman,” he told my mom. “And oh, how very proud she was of you and the work you do as a curator.”

I looked at Mom. Her face was a mix of emotions. I could tell she didn’t know what to say after that. So I jumped in. “Sorry we can’t stay very long, since we have other places to go. Could we please have the package my grandma sent along?”

He went to his desk, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out a medium-sized package. “I’m curious to know what’s in here,” he said as he walked it over to us. “Would you mind opening it now?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

He grabbed a pair of scissors from his desk and helped me cut away the tape and paper.

“Oh my gosh,” I whispered when I opened the box. “How pretty!”