Reya's stay in Paris was bordering on surreal in the best way possible, as she found herself hidden away in Madame Billeaux's private garden. Exotic plants surrounded her, with fruit trees further down the path, and vines all along the wall. The sound of chirping birds and the constant trickle of an old stone fountain rounded out the magical ambience.

In her time so far with Madame Billeaux and her grandson—time spent enjoying wine with the finest cheeses and generous amounts of baguette—Reya had learned that her grandson's name was Francois, a professor who was currently on sabbatical and doing some medieval research. The way he was dressed he looked more like a struggling student than a professor, or maybe that was simply the "sabbatical look." As she sipped her wine she noticed that his dark hair looked lighter in the sun, and that his green eyes lit up with little flecks of gold. She didn't think too hard about why she was focusing on these physical details, or the fact that he had a deep dimple on the right side of his face when he smiled. She was observing him as randomly as noticing the details of the garden; it wasn't a big deal.

"I said how much longer are you here for?" Francois said. "Did you hear me?"

Reya suddenly realized her casual observation of Francois had put her in a trance. Maybe he was a little more mesmerizing than the garden after all.

"Three and half weeks!" she quickly said. "Or three weeks and two days," she added. "It's flying by."

"And what have you seen of our fair city?" he said, slicing himself another piece of cheese.

Reya began listing off her adventures systematically: "I spend a day at the Louvre museum, walked along the river, visited the Notre Dame cathedral...and walked some more. A lot in fact."

"Yes of course," he said. "Typical first-level tourist stuff."

Reya frowned. "First-level? You make it sound like I'm in grade school."

"Well..." he said, as Madame Billeaux gently laughed.

"I have a Bachelor's degree in business, goddammit!" She immediately put her hand over her mouth. "Sorry for cursing, Madame Billeaux."

Madame Billeaux laughed harder. "If you only knew the things I've heard."

"I'm simply saying that without the guidance of a local, you'll only get so deep in your exploration of Paris," Francois said.

She crossed her arms and accepted the challenge. "Well A: I just haven't had a chance to dig deeper. And B: who should guide me on this exploration?"

He wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood. "I must go now."

To Reya's surprise she found herself a little disappointed, and more and more curious about Francois's perspective on Paris.

In French customary fashion, he 'double-cheek' kissed both Madame Billeaux and Reya. The feeling was completely formal, and before Reya knew it he was gone.

"So..." Madame Billeaux said with a sly smile. "What do you think of my grandson?"

"Oh no," Reya said shaking her head. "No, no, no. You're not getting out of telling me about your life." She refilled both their wine glasses. "So you served in World War II?"

"Yes," she replied solemnly. "As a nurse at the infirmary for injured soldiers. And don't let anyone tell you that being a nurse wasn't the same as serving."

Reya gasped. "Who would say that? I'll destroy anyone who would say that!"

Madame Billeaux smiled. "Thank you. And I must add that I am not exaggerating." She sighed. "Just imagine injured soldiers who could not even stand arriving in droves, and not enough doctors to carry them. Which left us nurses having to transport them ourselves." She pointed to her bicep. "I became, how you say—a female bodybuilder—in those days."

Reya laughed, as more and more colours filled in on this woman's amazing life. "And how did you find yourself...here?" she asked, gesturing to the house and amazing garden.

Madame Billeaux sighed. "Well...a wealthy husband is what one would expect, but in fact...all of this started from the day I started making my jewelry designs."

Reya had indeed stereotyped Madame Billeaux, by assuming a rich husband was the only explanation for her wealth; she felt a little guilty for making the assumption.

"And the jewelry business landed you here?" Reya said. "That's incredible!"

She nodded. "To think...it all started from selling at Paris's competitive flea market...and now, to see my designs at Galeries Lafayette...it's been a journey!"

"You're a great role model Madame Billeaux," Reya said firmly. "Not to mention that you did it all in a far more challenging time than we live in now!" She shook her head in amazement. "You really exemplify what a woman can do on her own! Even if it means... well...being on her own." Reya's shoulders slumped a little.

"Don't be confused," Madame Billeaux said. "Being successful doesn't have to mean sacrificing your heart. I was married for forty-two years. And to a teacher! He loved to see me thrive."

Reya raised an eyebrow. "I didn't think that was possible," she muttered to herself.

Madame Billeaux took Reya's hand and squeezed it. "It is very possible. Never let anyone make you feel guilty for your success. Never."

Reya took Madame Billeaux's words to heart, and for the first time, she wasn't feeling sad about her breakup with Todd. For the first time, she was truly starting to believe it was truly his loss...

***

Reya and Madame Billeaux met the following day, for a slow stroll through the regal and massive Luxembourg Gardens, bordered by a sea of trees. Reya could've walked for another two hours, but she could tell it was taking a toll on Madame Billeaux, so after thirty minutes she called the personal driver to escort them home.

Reya made sure Madame Billeaux made it safely inside, and as she went to the kitchen to get a glass of water, she found Francois doing the dishes.

Oh sorry," Reya said.

"What's there to be sorry about?" Francois said. "Washing dishes is no private matter."

Reya smiled. "You came to the house just to wash the dishes?"

"It's the housekeeper's day off and I really don't mind it; it's therapeutic."

Reya frowned. "Okay weirdo."

He laughed. "So what's on your agenda today?"

Reya shrugged. "I'll probably just explore on my own, since my days with Madame Billeaux don't usually go past five p.m..."

He dried his hands with the cloth and turned to face her. "You won't see much of Paris when your guide retires at five p.m." He smiled. "How about trying someone a little more your age?"

Reya thought about it for all of two seconds. "Okay! But I need to take a shower and change. Can we meet at seven?"

"Of course," he said. "Just tell me where to pick you up."

Reya gave him her number and couldn't help but grin; a tour guide her own age, what a concept!

***

A few hours later, Reya was enjoying a glass of wine and modern French appetizers with Francois. The little wine bar was tucked away in a quiet corner of the left bank, a bar that went all but unnoticed once the nearby artisan shops closed their doors.

Francois looked even better now, in a crisp white shirt with his hair swept back.

"This wasn't in my research of places to go," Reya admitted. "And I doubt I would've ended up here on my own." She gestured to the dark setting whose lighting lived and died by the candles throughout the bar. It was a 'date vibe' place if there ever was one, and she started to wonder why he'd brought her there.

"Listen," he said quietly. "What do you hear?"

She leaned in, concentrated, and smiled. "French. Only French."

"Well you wanted to see the real Paris," he said, sounding somewhat impressed with himself, but in a way that was somehow charming and never smug.

"Should we switch to French so I don't get kicked out?" she suggested.

"I prefer it this way so I can practice my English," he said smiling.

She nodded and continued eating, enjoying her first evening out in Paris, with very little else on her mind. As she reached for the next appetizer she noticed him staring. "What is it? There's something on my face, right? Is there sauce on my chin?"

He laughed. "No. Not at all. I just haven't met a lot of Canadians outside my classroom."

"You mean students?" she said.

He nodded. "And that is a whole different thing. As students are always distinctively students."

She eyed him curiously. "And what am I?"

For the first time the confident Frenchman was the one to seem embarrassed. "Once we are done here, I know of a place to take a stroll."

***

After drinks, Francois and Reya strolled along a quiet cobblestoned street in Saint-Germain, abandoned at this hour but lacking nothing in charm.

"Every detail is so lovely," Reya said. "The archways; the doors...we don't have that in Toronto."

"What is the style of architecture there?"

As soon as he said the word "architecture" she thought of Todd. She'd actually been okay not thinking about him at all in the last few days, but certain words like "architecture" had a way of triggering certain memories. Like her happiest ones with Todd. She stopped in the street to catch her breath.

Francois turned and rushed over to her. "Is everything okay?"

She nodded. "Maybe the wine got to my head."

He stepped back. "I may not know you very well, but I know this is a lie."

She scoffed at his investigative skills. "It is not!"

"I would wager it is," Francois said. "Especially since my grandmother casually mentioned you left Toronto after a break-up."

Reya's eyes bulged. "I never told her that!"

"She said she'd figured it out," he said. "And even when you didn't admit it she knew she was right. She has a way about these things."

She remembered that moment and how she'd changed the subject, hoping Madame Billeaux would forget. Apparently not.

"It's okay," he said. "I am going through something similar myself. Each day makes it easier; particularly the recent ones." He smiled and squeezed her shoulder, and getting caught in his gaze somehow made her forget.

"My sabbatical continues and the research hours are not that intense," he said. "Would it be okay if I accompanied you on more of your Parisian explorations?"

She smiled. "Definitely okay."

***

Francois kept his promise over the next two weeks, and Reya ended up seeing him nearly every day. There were times when she needed her moments with Madame Billeaux, like for example for high tea at the luxurious Plaza Athenée, but other than that, Francois had always been there, ready to spend time with her whenever she desired his company.

On this particular sunny afternoon by the river, down the stone steps by the bridge called Pont Neuf, Francois and Reya sat in a tiny gated park that touched the water.

They listened to the water while taking turns ripping pieces of bread from a large baguette.

"I would never randomly eat bread like this in Toronto," she said. "Like ohhh, let me just eat chunks of bread and have gratuitous carbs and hate myself!"

He laughed. "Fortunately that is not the mindset here. And walking almost everywhere rids a person of their guilt and extra weight."

"Well as long as there's no guilt," she said, taking another piece and stuffing it in her mouth. "It's really beautiful here!" she exclaimed through mouthfuls.

"You're right," he said, only having eyes for her. "You are."

"Huh?" she was momentarily confused. Until she noticed he was staring.

He took her hand and squeezed it. He didn't let go, and so there they were, Francois and his bread-obsessed Canadian, who on this trip to Paris may have bitten off more than she could chew...

***

Reya and Francois didn't say much on the long walk back to Madame Billeaux's to join her for tea, but it wasn't a tense awkwardness or anything like that. It was more a slight excitement and a feeling of anticipation, and it wasn't anything that Reya had imagined feeling during her post-break up adventure in Paris.

Back in Madame Billeaux's neighbourhood, they made their way past the security doors, and then the big double doors of her inviting home, where they'd be greeted by Madame Billeaux's warm smile.

What they found instead was an intense-looking young woman with sandy brown hair, ever so chic in French attire and pacing back and forth in the foyer.

Her beautiful blue eyes snapped to attention as they came into the house. "Francois?" She looked past him and noticed Reya, who could already feel herself awkwardly in the middle...

[Just when she'd found herself a wonderful French guy...there's another woman! Stay tuned for the conclusion of the short story ESCAPE TO PARIS next Wednesday April 5th at 8pm eastern!]