Page 19 of French Escapade

“I studied Russian in high school,” she explains with a smile. I picked it to stick out of the crowd. Everyone usually picks Spanish or Italian. “

“And you fell in love with it?” I ask.

“I did. To be honest, I can’t read it as easily as I used to, but I can speak it better. Well, I’m not sure if better is the right word, since I’ve added to my vocabulary some colloquial expressions which would horrify the old lady who attempted to teach me an aristocratic version of the language!”

It’s a real pleasure to see Élodie relaxing. She orders for us and tells us more about her Russian teacher, who claimed to be part of the last royal family before the revolution. It’s amusing to see that it’s not only in the U.S. that some people feel the need to claim titles.

She’s so charming that, for a bit, I almost forget why we’re in Cannes. I dream about different circumstances. Maybe one day, after we get Madison back and tuck her away safely at home, I could come back for a stay in the south of France. It’s a part of Europe I’ve never taken the time to visit. Also, it would be good to keep my French current. And I’ve got so much unused vacation time that I could stay an entire month if I play my cards right.

After checking her watch, Élodie breaks the spell. “Gotta go back to the office …” She seems to hesitate, and that’s not like her. Well, not in character with what I’ve seen of her so far.

“You’re going to talk about the case to your boss?” Jimmy asks.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to go with you?” I add.

Élodie looks at me and shakes her head. She opens her mouth and closes it without saying a word. Obviously, there are things she would rather keep to herself, and I can’t really blame her. After all, we only met her a few hours ago, and she’s already done more than what I would have dared ask or even hoped for from a perfect stranger.

Without her, we would never have set foot in the hotel room to find my sister’s message. If we have a lead, it is thanks to her. So, no, I won’t act offended because she’s not telling us everything.

“Okay, you’re the boss,” Jimmy tells her, putting his hand on hers.

The gesture is friendly, almost meaningless, and yet, it is not acceptable. My reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by my best friend, who now holds his coffee bowl with two hands and attempts to hide his mirth.

“What would you say about getting our luggage back and checking into our place to take a shower?” he suggests.

It’s probably the best thing to do. Still, I would rather be in a strategic session with Élodie and her colleagues. Or just with Élodie.

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