Murderous Endeavour

CHAPTER SEVEN

That evening, after kissing Lily and Mick goodbye, Diana arrived at JFK airport with plenty of time to spare before her flight. When the flight attendant announced that the first-class passengers could now begin boarding, a thrill of excitement passed through her. Cradling her jacket and neck pillow in her arms, wearing a black wrinkle-free travel suit she’d picked up at Saks, she took a long look at the lights of New York City before boarding the plane.

If all goes well, you’re not going to see those lights for a very long time.

Oh, stop it, Diana! Everything is going to go well. It’s your dream. Don’t listen to the nay-sayers! It’s going to be amazing!

Smiling, she navigated to the leather seats in first class and squeezed into the one near the window. As she made herself comfortable, the flight attendant offered her a drink. “Just some water,” she said, taking out the book she was reading and getting settled. “Thanks.”

As she grabbed her phone to silence it, she noticed she had a text.

It was from Evan. Have a good trip, love. Give me that address when you can.

She frowned, then typed in very bluntly: Le Bonne Auberge, rue de Charonne.

Then she sighed. If all he cared about was getting her precious signature on the papers that would effectively dissolve everything that had ever existed between them, she wasn’t going to waste one more second thinking of him.

She peered out the oval window. Past the busy runway full of planes taking off and arriving, she could just make out the tops of the buildings in the city. Somewhere out there was the business she’d helped build. She was saying goodbye to her stability, to the town she had been born and lived her whole life in, to everything she’d ever known.

Oh, don’t be dramatic. You’ll be back. Happier. And think of all the stories you’ll have!

She opened her book to start reading as the rest of the passengers filtered into the cabin, but then closed it on her lap. She was too excited, imagining those stories. Maybe she’d meet Stéphane again. Wouldn’t that be crazy after nearly thirty years? Well, not so crazy . . . he’d said his family always went every year to the ball at Versailles. Maybe he’d be there.

A thrill passed through her. She had thought of googling him a thousand times and usually resisted. After all, a man like him was perfect. He probably had a perfect wife now, a great job, a life that was fulfilling and wonderful, even without her. He probably didn’t even remember her. He was likely friends with the prime minister and the president, running around in fabulous circles, fully embracing his nobility like he never had before. In a moment of weakness, she had put his name in the search bar once, but very little had come up, and she hadn’t bothered to dig more. He’d said his family was intensely private.

But maybe, just maybe . . .

At that moment, she slipped into a fantasy. Diana—walking the magnificent gardens of Versailles in a bright yellow ball gown with flowing skirts, a la Belle in Beauty and the Beast. Her dark hair piled very romantically on her head in curls. The dark sky glittering with stars. As she walked to the balustrade and looked out over the fountains and sculptures, she’d see him there, among the guests. Yes, he’d be older with crow’s feet and salt-and-pepper hair, but he’d have aged like Sean Connery—getting better looking over the years.

The moment their eyes would connect, electricity would zap through the air. He’d swerve around the others to be by her side. “Diana,” he’d say breathlessly in that yummy French accent, taking her hand and pressing a chaste kiss onto the top of it, “I have waited thirty years for you. I’ve never forgotten you, mon amour.” Then he’d recite some ridiculously romantic poem from Baudelaire, and she’d melt into a pile of goo at his feet.

And they’d live happily ever after in some remote chateau overlooking a lake and with a view of the Eiffel Tower in the distance. Of course.

It had been a long time since she’d indulged in fairy tale fantasies like that. But, of course, at Versailles with Stéphane, she wouldn’t be able to help it. The atmosphere would be so perfect. It was, like he had said . . . destiny.

“I’m so sorry,” a voice suddenly said in a deep French accent, stirring her from her reverie.

She looked up at the woman next to her, who was busy trying to stuff a large carry-on under her seat. The woman was probably around Diana’s age, though a bit heavier, but well-put together, wearing heavy makeup and bright red lipstick. Her hair was up in a psychedelic-patterned scarf, and she smelled heavily of Chanel No. 5. The woman pointed a long manicured fingernail at the ground, and Diana followed it to realize that the book had slipped from her lap and was now lying, spine-up, on the ground.

Diana reached down and picked it up. Had the woman knocked it off? She’d been so completely taken away by her fantasy that she hadn’t noticed.

“No problem,” she said with a smile as the woman sat down in her chair and heaved a large sigh. “Returning to France from vacation?”

“An extended one, I suppose,” the woman said. “I was traveling North America for the past three months. I always wanted to see it, so I decided to take a trip by myself since my husband wasn’t interested. I did Hollywood, then Las Vegas, Chicago, Florida, and New York. All the big places.”

Diana smiled brightly. How fortuitous this was that, on the eve of flying out to France, she finds someone who is just returning from her own voyage of self-discovery? See, Diana. People do it, have a great time, and survive with amazing stories of adventure to last the rest of their lives!

“Oh? That’s amazing. So how did you—”

“It was awful,” the woman groaned. “Simply terrible. I cannot wait to be home and wake from this horrific nightmare.”

Diana paused, dumbfounded. “Oh. It was that bad?”

“Worse,” she said with a deep frown, shuddering at the memory. “In fact, the worst. The food was terrible. The hotels were atrocious. The landmarks are dirty and dinky and unimpressive. Vegas was full of dirt! The Grand Canyon is a hole! I was mugged in Chicago. It rained all the time. Everything paled to my imagination. I had been dreaming of this my entire life. And it was nothing like what I expected. I only stayed on my itinerary, hoping everything would get better. It never did. That is why I am cutting my trip short. I had planned to go on to Boston, but no more. I’m done.”

“That . . .” Diana trailed off. Sounds like me. Dreaming, my whole life. Only to . . .

Only to what? To learn that everything Evan had warned her about Europe was the truth, and that she’d inflated her dreams of this trip to some fantasy world that no place on earth could ever live up to?

Her heart skipped a beat as she thought of what Evan had said. The last thing she wanted to do was to go on this trip and prove Evan right. “That’s awful.”

The woman nodded, “Yes. I’d wanted so much from this trip since I planned it for so long. Built it up in my head, and I suppose that was a mistake. Oh. Well. At least I am going home. Are you on vacation?”

Diana smiled weakly. “Um. Yes. A small one,” she lied. “It will be my first time in Paris. Maybe you can give me some suggestions as far as places to visit?” she asked, though she didn’t really want to hear any more ideas that could mess with her carefully plotted itinerary.

The plane doors closed. The flight attendants began to give their safety demonstrations, and the plane began to taxi away from the gate. Diana really didn’t want to spend seven hours listening to a woman complain about how awful her trip was, but she wasn’t sure she had a choice. It was too late to turn back now.

Luckily, as soon as the plane began to power down the runway, the woman fell asleep, snoring loudly.

That was okay. Everyone was entitled to their own opinion. She happened to like the Grand Canyon. Besides, she wouldn’t make the same mistakes. She’d love Europe. She could just feel it. Paris in the summer? Really, what could possibly be better? She couldn’t wait to get there and let the adventure of a lifetime begin.