head lolled back and, within minutes, she was snoring delicately.
Danielle sighed with relief. She’d been afraid the woman’s nervousness would make her want to chatter, and the last thing she felt like doing was making small talk. There was a dull pain in her temple that threatened to work itself into a full-blown headache. And she was as tense as a coiled spring. She couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened at the boarding gate. The scene kept playing in her mind like a loop of film that would run over and over until it wore out.
There had to be a way to make sense out of it. She knew what seemed to have happened: the man she’d met in the lounge had expected to see her at the boarding gate. When she hadn’t appeared, he’d looked for her.
End of story.
But she knew that it hadn’t been that simple. She’d felt the intensity of his gaze across the room. And then there had been her own reaction, that thrumming pulse of her blood—
‘Excuse me.’
The low-pitched masculine voice startled her. Her pulse leaped as she looked up. But it was only the man from the window seat, apologising as he made his way past her to the aisle. Danielle sighed and laid her head back. Who else would it have been? The stranger wasn’t going to come looking for her. He was hidden behind the curtains that separated first-class from the rest of the plane. And anyway, why would he want to find her? He’d probably forgotten the whole thing by now.
Which was precisely what she would do, she told herself firmly as she dredged the Frommer’s guidebook that Ginny had given her from the depths of her shoulder bag. She’d be in France soon, and seeing all the lovely old places she’d read about would be a dream come true.
She was deep in a description of Versailles when the woman beside her yawned loudly.
‘My goodness,’ she said with a little laugh, ‘did I fall asleep? I didn’t think I’d—’ Her breath caught. ‘Excuse me,’ she whispered as she leaned heavily across Danielle and stared out of the window, ‘do you see that wing? Is it supposed to look like that?’
Danielle followed the woman’s trembling finger and then she smiled. ‘It looks fine to me,’ she said gently.
Her neighbour touched her tongue to her lips. ‘Are you sure? I—I know it sounds silly, but I thought it looked loose. Just at the end there, you see? Where the metal is so thin.’
Danielle smiled again. ‘I’m sure it’s fine.’
‘Well, if you think so…’ The woman touched her tongue to her lips again. ‘I won’t bother you any more. I’m sure you’d rather read your book.’
Danielle sighed. ‘You didn’t bother me at all,’ she said, closing the Frommer.
‘Are you sure? Well, that’s nice to hear. I’m Alice Davis. Have you been abroad before? I have. One time. Two, really, if you count the trip I took to Bermuda. But that’s not going abroad, is it? Not like Europe, I mean. I always say…’
* * *
Hours later, when the plane finally touched down at the Nice-Côte d’Azur Airport, Danielle almost groaned with relief. Somehow she managed to smile at Alice, who’d talked, almost non-stop, across the entire Atlantic.
‘Aren’t you getting off?’ Alice asked as she eased her bulky self into the aisle.
Danielle looked at the passengers already crowding the narrow space and shook her head.
‘I’ll wait,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t look as if anyone’s going anywhere for a while anyway.’
Alice laughed. ‘You’re probably smart to avoid the crowd. But I can hardly wait to get my feet on solid ground again. And my niece is waiting—I haven’t seen her in a year. You understand.’
Danielle smiled and waved her hand as Alice moved into the queue, and then she settled back into her seat. The man in the window seat had already trampled her toes in his rush to disembark, muttering that he’d never make his connecting flight, thanks to the delay back in New York.
Everyone was in a rush to go somewhere, she thought with a sigh, everyone except her. She had no plane to catch, no one waiting for her at the gate.
‘I won’t be able to meet you, Danni,’ Val had said when Danielle had phoned to confirm her arrival. ‘It’s a working day. But you won’t mind, will you?’
Danielle had said she wouldn’t. But the truth was that there was something awfully lonely about stepping off a plane in a strange country with no one to greet you…
Unless he was waiting, unless he was, even now, watching eagerly for her, scanning each face with those dark blue eyes.
Quickly, Danielle rose and picked up her carry-on and shoulder bag. Alice had been right, she thought as she pushed into the aisle, there was really no sense in sitting here. She might as well get going.
The Nice-Côte d’Azur terminal was disappointing. It was foolish, she knew, but she’d expected something more exotic than this crowded, noisy place that reminded her of airport terminals everywhere. People were jabbering at each other as they lined up around the baggage carousel, but the jabbering was all in English. Well, this was the height of the tourist season, that was what it said in her Frommer—the little she’d managed to read of it, anyway. And the Côte d’Azur was Mecca to both the British and the Americans.
There was a long, slow-moving queue at Customs. Danielle gave the inspector a hesitant smile, but he barely glanced up. He seemed bored, even disinterested, as he held out his hand for her papers.
‘How long will you be in France?’ he asked. ‘Are you here on business or pleasure?’
His English was heavily accented. Without thinking, Danielle responded in French, and suddenly his face was wreathed in smiles.
‘Ah, mademoiselle,’ he said, and he burst into the swift, musical language she had studied and loved for so many years.
French, she thought, he’s speaking real French, and suddenly her heart raced with excitement. She was really here! She was in Europe and the summer lay ahead, the long weeks beckoning like unwrapped gifts lying beneath a Christmas tree.
Danielle dragged her suitcase to the car-rental counter. Her breath hissed from her lungs as she eased it down and flexed her hand wearily. She would be in Ste Agathe soon, with Val. What she’d told Ginny was true—she didn’t believe in miracles and she didn’t expect one—but it was going to be nice to see Val again.
There was so much to catch up on—Val probably had dozens of fantastic stories to tell. While Danielle had been drumming French into unwilling adolescent heads, her glamorous cousin had been burning a swath through New York and Hollywood. She’d been everywhere and done everything—she’d even broken two engagements and who knew how many hearts. Danielle smiled to herself. Listening to Val would be like reading a glossy magazine.
As for the things she’d tell Val, well, there wasn’t all that much to talk about. Danielle liked teaching, but Val would probably think it dull. Her smile dimmed a little. She could tell her about Eddie, of course, how kind he had been, how good.
Eddie. It was the first time she’d thought of him in hours.
