problem.” Lily spotted a café down the street that she hadn’t visited yet. “I’m always grumpy before breakfast, and that chocolate roll is calling my name.” She eyed his spare frame. She didn’t think it was from too many cigarettes since he didn’t smell of smoke. In fact, for a guy who looked like he’d been sleeping on a park bench for a month, he actually smelled nice. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you could use a croissant.”
His mouth pulled into a wry grin. “Probably. Why don’t we get some croissants together?”
She leaned away from him and gave him a suspicious stare.
“I was a Boy Scout if that makes a difference.”
“Really? There are French Boy Scouts?” She perked up. This was the kind of thing she wanted to learn about his country—something that wasn’t in the tourist books.
“Come have a café au lait with me and I’ll tell you all about le scoutisme français.”
“Scoutisme? Is that a real word?”
“On my honor.” He raised his hand in what looked like a Boy Scout sign.
“Well, okay. And maybe you can help me with my French pronunciation.”
“I would be happy to.”
Lily turned to face him. “All right, I can’t call you French Backpacking Boy Scout, so you better tell me your name.”
He smothered a laugh. “No, that would be quite a mouthful. My name is Jack Montford.”
“Jack? Isn’t it actually Jacques?”
“Yes, but I started going by Jack when I lived in New York.”
“Smart move. I’m Lily Adams.” Lily set off for the café. “Come on, Jack-with-the-Backpack, let’s get you a couple croissants—with extra butter.”
JACK DIDN’T KNOW quite how he’d wound up going out for breakfast with a woman he’d literally bumped into, but Lily Adams was right—he could use some calories. She’d thought he picked her out as an American from her accent, bad as it was, but he had picked her out as an American as soon as he saw her blond ponytail and cheerful expression. Her hazel-green eyes gazed eagerly at everything, as if she were trying to memorize details for later.
And to think she wanted to learn about French scouting, of all things. Not where to get the best-smelling parfum or cheapest designer knockoffs, but actual bits of real French life.
They stepped up to the café counter and Lily cleared her throat. “Je voudrais deux croissants et deux pains au chocolat. Oh, deux cafés au lait. Merci.”
Jack had to admire her tenacity when she knew she had difficulties with the language. He quelled the cashier’s incipient smirk with what he thought of his comte look.
Lily, happily oblivious, accepted the bag of pastries and handed him a cup of coffee.
“Merci,” he thanked her. “And you say de rien, which means, ‘It was nothing.’”
She practiced that a couple times as they walked to a bench along a pretty little park. Jack chewed a bit of pain au chocolat, mindful that his digestion was still a bit sensitive. Lily dipped her croissant into the milky coffee with gusto, not minding the flaky crumbs falling on her khaki cargo pants.
University students from the nearby Sorbonne argued about philosophy and politics while a young long-haired musician played guitar, his girlfriend staring up at him adoringly.
Nadine had stared at him like that while they were dating, but stopped soon after their engagement. It was as if she didn’t need to bother once she had his ring. And of course he had been gone many months out of the year with his disaster relief work. His closest friends in the world, Giorgio, Prince of Vinciguerra, and Francisco, Duke of Aguas Santas in Portugal, had warned him to slow down.
Jack found it easy to ignore their advice. They were ones to talk about slowing down. Giorgio ran his own country and Francisco owned not only a huge, busy estate in the Portuguese countryside but also a private island in the Azores.
If only his friends had grabbed him in person a couple months back, since it wasn’t hard to delete their phone and text messages.
He’d slowed down, all right, almost to the point of permanently stopping. When they’d heard he was sick, George and Frank first offered to fly to the hospital in Thailand to collect him. When that hadn’t been necessary, they threatened to confiscate his passport so he couldn’t leave France until George’s sister’s wedding.
George, Frank and Jack had met going to university in New York and had set up a nice bachelor pad for themselves when George’s parents tragically died in a car crash back in their small country Vinciguerra, on the Italian peninsula. George’s distraught twelve-year-old sister, Stefania, had come to live with them, along with a no-nonsense housekeeper.
End of their bachelor pad, but the beginning of the best time of his life. Stevie became one of the gang and the sister he’d never had. And now she was getting married.
Jack hoped she and her German fiancé looked at each other like the young guitar player and his girlfriend.
“Earth to Jack.” Lily peered into his face and waved a croissant. “You still hungry? You put away that chocolate roll pretty fast.”
He looked down into his lap. A small pile of crumbs was all that remained. Maybe the fresh air and quiet greenery was helping his appetite, but he didn’t want to push his luck. “You want to know about the real France?”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course. Who doesn’t?”
“Many people. For them, we are France-Land, a giant amusement theme park for them to visit. See the Eiffel, look at the Mona Lisa, hear the bells rung by the Hunchback of Notre Dame, and voilà! You have experienced the true France.”
She gave him a peeved look. “I don’t agree with that at all, and you have a pretty low opinion of tourists for a guy who’s backpacking his way around the country. Or is it just a low opinion of American tourists?”
“Well…”
“Aha. You, monsieur, are a snob. And see, I know that is a French word, too.”
“I am not a snob.” He was acquainted with many snobs and he wasn’t one, was he?
“When you lived in New York, did you go to the Statue of Liberty?”
“Of course. A gift from my country to yours.” Stevie had loved the green lady. If she hadn’t been Princess of Vinciguerra, Jack often thought, she would have become an American citizen.
“And the Metropolitan Museum of Art? And the Empire State Building?”
“Yes to all of those.”
“So why can’t we enjoy the Eiffel Tower, the Mona Lisa and the bells at Notre Dame Cathedral?”
He gave her a nod of apology. “Again, you have caught me without my manners. We are notably proud of those three
