Chapter One
Sunday
“Where could he be?” Julia asked Carly. “Josh said he’d meet us
after we cleared Customs.” She again searched the crowd of hopeful faces
in the waiting area of the Charles de Gaulle airport. Her heart dropped
at not seeing him, then raced wildly in her chest as she had a moment
of anxiety about making the decision to meet Josh in Paris at all.
She turned back to her sister. “Do you see him yet? Maybe I shouldn’t
have come. Maybe he’ll be sorry he asked me to join him. Maybe he won’t
be here after all. Maybe…”
Carly rolled her eyes as she listened to her older sister. “You sure
have a lot of doubts for someone who has to make split-second decisions
regularly in your real life. Haven’t you two been staying in touch
regularly? Everything will be fine.”
Dr. Julia Fairchild, now in her late thirties, had built a busy
internal medicine practice in southwest Washington State over the ten
years since she finished her residency. It was a challenge to take more
than a week off at a time, but she had persuaded her new partner to
cover for her while she made this big trip. She had met Josh Larson, a
fortyish Washington D.C. corporate attorney who specialized in mergers, a
few years earlier at an international hospital conference in Monte
Carlo. They had reconnected the previous fall, when he had shown up in
Amsterdam while she and Carly were there on a tap-jazz dancing tour.
She’d been thrilled when he had invited her to meet him in Paris the
following spring, where he had scheduled business meetings. Josh had
explained that he would be busy with his company’s clients much of the
time for the first several days of her trip, so Julia had suggested
inviting her sister to keep her company. Now doubts clouded Julia’s
thoughts.
“What if you don’t have a good time after I’ve talked you into coming?”
“Julia, calm down,” said Carly. “I’m sure we’ll both have a grand time here. How could someone come to Paris and not
enjoy themselves?” She patted Julia’s hand, which was resting on the
fence separating the arriving passengers from the greeters. “Maybe we
got through Customs faster than he could get through the airport
traffic,” she added. “Didn’t he tell you the congestion here was
horrendous?”
“Yes, but—hey, I see my name on a placard.” Julia pointed to a line
of livery drivers holding up signs identifying their intended
passengers. “Follow me.”
Julia and Carly dragged their luggage through the throng of
travelers, saying “Pardon” several times as they moved slowly toward the
uniformed man. He was of smallish build, with graying black hair, a
cleft chin, and small dark eyes. He smiled as Julia and Carly approached
him.
“Bonjour. I’m Julia Fairchild,” she said, pointing to her name on his
sign, “and this is my sister, Carly Pedersen. I don’t see Josh. Isn’t
he here?”
“Welcome to Paris, mesdemoiselles,” the chauffeur said with a slight
bow. “My name is Vincent. Monsieur Larson is unable to be here. Please
allow me to take you to your hotel and you will learn more.” He took
charge of their luggage and led the way to a gleaming black limousine.
Carly whistled. “Pretty fancy, sis. I should travel with you more
often.” Carly Pedersen, a homebody at heart with a golden mop of hair,
hazel eyes, and an effervescent smile, didn’t usually get the
opportunity to travel to Europe and had jumped at the chance. Her
husband, Rob, was quickly mollified by her promise to learn to prepare
some French dishes at Le Cordon Bleu.
Julia flashed her a happy grin, pleased that Carly had agreed to come
on this trip. As a physician dedicated to continuing medical education,
Julia had traveled over the years to international conferences, but had
not made it to Paris until now.
The chauffeur poured a flute of champagne for each of the sisters
once they were settled in the limo. They toasted each other and Paris,
then enjoyed the crisp bubbly drink in comfort as they motored through
the city. Though disappointed that Josh hadn’t met her at the airport
with a bouquet of flowers and a kiss, Julia was too enthralled with the
thrill of visiting Paris for the first time to dwell on it.
Carly sighed. “Pinch me, Julia. I’m not sure this is real yet.”
“I don’t recall the last time I was in a limousine,” said Julia. “It wasn’t the ‘in’ thing when I went to our high school prom.”
“As if there even were any limos in our little town.”
“That would be the other reason,” Julia agreed. She pointed. “Look
straight ahead, Carly. I can see the Eiffel Tower from here. It’s so
majestic. Let’s plan to go to the top.”
“I hope you mean by elevator.” Carly had never been the athletic type
but served as a cheerleader for Julia’s efforts at running and tap
dancing.
“Maybe we can walk partway up,” Julia said, “and take the elevator the rest of the way.”
The limousine stopped in front of an elegant older building, Hotel du
Champs de Mars, which was nestled in the chic Gros-Caillou neighborhood
of Paris. Julia had noticed a mix of embassies and other posh hotels
and upscale restaurants lining the tranquil streets as Vincent drove
through the area. She loved the welcoming “Old World” ambience of the
entrance, where a debonair valet dressed in a gold-trimmed red and black
uniform stood at the door, ready to help the new guests.
“Bonjour, mesdemoiselles. Welcome to Paris.” He bowed gallantly,
longish brown curls framing his young face, then helped Julia and Carly
alight from the limo.
“Bonjour and merci, monsieur,” Julia managed to say in her rusty high school French.
Julia and Carly grinned at each other and linked arms as they entered
the foyer. Josh had told Julia he had arranged their stay at this hotel
because of its location near the Eiffel Tower and other popular
attractions. He had also told her that it was his favorite place to stay
when he had business meetings in the city.
“Welcome to Hotel du Champs, Ms. Fairchild and Ms. Pedersen,” said
the desk clerk. “Mr. Larson left you a message, which you will find in
your room. I hope you enjoy your stay with us.” He motioned to the
bellman, who had secured their bags on a cart, and who then led them to
the elevators on his left, and on to their room on the fourth floor.
The bellman opened the door and stepped aside while Julia and Carly
entered the suite. Julia stood still momentarily, gazing at the
elegantly appointed room. A small settee and chair graced the main
room. The bed looked inviting, with layers of pillows and a lush
comforter. “I feel like a princess in here. This is my favorite shade of
blue. Look at the detail, Carly.” She plopped onto the bed. “I’m in
love with Paris already.”
Carly peered out the window, which opened onto the street below. “It’s not far to the closest bistro either.”
After tipping the young man, Julia eagerly tore open the envelope, which she saw was written on high-quality ecru paper.
“What’s up with Josh?” Carly asked impatiently.
“His note says he has to entertain some important clients for dinner
tonight. He says to meet him in the lobby here at four o’clock for a
glass of wine.” Julia checked her watch. “It’s two now. We can wander
around a little before we meet Josh and unpack later. Is that okay with
you?”
“Sounds good to me,” said Carly. “So does a warm cookie. I saw them
downstairs in the lobby, but the bellman walked right on by before I
could grab one.”
Julia smiled, knowing Carly’s fondness for sweets, especially
fresh-baked cookies. “We can go down and get one on our way out the
door.” She headed back out the door and waited in the lobby while Carly
nabbed their treats.
“How many museums on the list this time, sis?” Carly asked as they started walking down the street, cookies in hand.
“Six, I think. We can do more if you like.”
“Six.” Carly groaned. “You know how much I loathe musty old
museums. I saw my share of them on the last trip with you—as well as
their storage vaults, art, and forgeries. I don’t want a repeat of that experience.”
Julia grimaced. Too true. Neither did Julia. In fact, Carly had been
kidnapped because of Julia’s snooping around a murder in Amsterdam.
Thankfully, with some help, Carly had been rescued. If anything, Julia
owed her little sister a fabulous trip with no drama. “Agreed. Although
you have to admit it was memorable.” Julia ducked as Carly pretended to
hit her with her bag. “Anyway, there are only a couple of absolute
must-see museums here. We can’t leave Paris without at least going to
the Louvre and Notre Dame.”
“I can tolerate visiting two of them.”
“And maybe Versailles.”
“That’s three,” said Carly.
“One museum, one cathedral, and one palace,” Julia clarified as they
negotiated crossing a busy street. “Think of them more as beautiful
historical landmarks that happen to contain marvelous works of art.”
“Very clever, Julia. Where are we going now?”
“I want to get my bearings around this area.” Julia found their
location on the map she’d accepted from the desk clerk. “The streets
here are crazy, from what I saw in the guidebook. It reminds me of
trying to find my way around St. Maarten.” Although Paris was a
full-sized city compared to the small towns of the Caribbean island,
both locations perplexed visitors with their seemingly haphazard layout.
Julia tried to shake off the thought of that island vacation, another
trip that went awry. Julia felt herself scowl. She’d taken that trip to
meet up with Tony—and that certainly went sour. And here she was again,
this time to meet up with Josh. Would Josh also prove to be not what—
“Where are the street signs? They would be helpful right about
now.” Carly interrupted Julia’s thoughts as they stopped at the street’s
end, and Carly looked right and left.
“Look on the corner of the building, about six or seven feet up.”
Julia pointed out a plaque bearing the street name. “We probably
shouldn’t wander too far away, since we’re meeting Josh at four.” She
studied the map again, comparing it to her surroundings. “The Eiffel
Tower is nearby,” she said, pointing toward the park surrounding the
famous structure. “We can walk around the grounds for maybe half an
hour, then turn around and get back to the hotel to change and freshen
up.”
“Works for me. Lead the way.”
The stately buildings gave way to lush greenery as they approached
the Parc du Champs al Mars, which surrounded the Eiffel Tower itself.
All cares melted away for Julia as she absorbed the Parisian beauty.
Trees and shrubs and lush green lawns covered the acres and acres of
parkland. Julia had read that three hundred workers had built the tower
from eighteen thousand pieces in two years, two months, and two days,
finishing in time for the opening of the World’s Fair in Paris on May
15, 1889.
“Oh my. C’est magnifique,” Julia said, snapping a few photos with her Nikon.
“It’s worth the walk, I’d say. How many steps did you say it is to the top?” Carly asked.
“One thousand seven hundred ten. At the YMCA, there was a challenge
to climb that many steps by doing one hundred eight round trips on the
staircase.”
“Wouldn’t half of those be going downhill? That seems like cheating, kind of.”
“But how else would you get back to the bottom of the stairs?” asked
Julia, craning her neck to peer at the top of the tower. “Frankly, I
agree that the elevator is a perfectly good option when we decide to go
up. The website suggested going to the top in the late afternoon, and
then staying to watch as the nighttime city lights turn on. That would
be gorgeous, I’m sure.” She sighed dreamily. “Then we could walk down.”
After a few more minutes of admiring the lush ground-level scenery,
it was time to leave to meet Josh. “Okay, Girl Scout,” Carly teased.
“Let’s see how you do with your directions back to the hotel.”
Julia turned the map upside down to help her retrace their steps.
Then she raised her hand in the air, pointed her finger, and said “That
way.”
They passed a few tourists and several people walking dogs—not a
French poodle among them. Several kiosks plastered with notices and
handbills were scattered along the way. Julia suddenly stopped and
grabbed Carly’s arm.
“What is it? Why are you stopping?”
Tapping a handbill advertising tango lessons, Julia said, “Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“Tango lessons? Not on my bucket list,” Carly said, shaking her head.
“But we’re in Paris. What better opportunity to learn the tango than
right here?” Julia hummed a sultry tune as she danced solo on the
sidewalk.
“Uh, Julia. People are staring at you, if you don’t mind.”
Julia giggled. “Oops. I got carried away.”
Carly stood with her hands on her hips. “What would we do for partners if we went?”
“Josh, for me. Perhaps they have extra men who take these lessons.”
She tore off one of the stubs with the phone number. “Wouldn’t hurt to
call.”
Carly shook her head more vigorously. “Not me. I’d almost rather go to a museum. Let’s keep walking.”
Five minutes later they were in the hotel lobby, where they found
Josh waiting. Julia felt her breath quicken at the sight of the
dark-haired, blue-eyed man with his trim athletic build. He returned her
smile with a huge grin of his own, then enveloped Julia in a big hug,
winking at Carly, who pretended to be embarrassed by the public display
of affection. She was mollified by her own welcoming hug in turn. The
trio chatted and laughed as they sauntered to the private patio, where a
young, buff waiter seated them and took drink orders.
“Julia, let me explain what’s happened since my last email to you,”
Josh said as he took Julia’s hands in his own. “As you know, I was
planning to stay at this same hotel so I would be close to you.”
“You did say this was your favorite place. Where are you staying instead?”
“The Marriott on the Champs-Élysées. Roger Westover, one of my
business partners, had arranged for us to stay in a suite of rooms
because several of our clients are from out of town.”
“I don’t get it,” said Julia. “Why do you have to stay together?”
“Here come our drinks. I’ll explain in a minute.”
Julia caught the waiter winking at Carly as he served the beverages.
She smiled, recalling other moments when her adorable golden-haired
younger sister had attracted a man’s eye. Their Finnish heritage
provided them both with striking high cheekbones, although Julia was
bestowed brunette locks and sparkly blue eyes, in contrast to her
sister’s blonde curls and hazel eyes.
“First, a toast to two beautiful women who make Paris even more
lovely.” Josh raised his glass, with the sisters following suit.
“Salud.”
Julia tasted the delightful pinot grigio, which had been chilled to the perfect temperature, as Carly sipped her gimlet.
“Here’s the story, Julia.” Josh took a big breath. “Okay, normally we
would meet our clients at local restaurants or in their own offices;
but these men, except Pierre, came to Paris from other cities. It seemed
easier to have our meetings in the hotel rather than trying to find a
restaurant with a meeting room. Anyway, Roger told me a couple of
clients had insisted that we stay at the hotel with them.”
“Does that mean I won’t be seeing you?” Julia asked.
“No, but it will be less of me for now,” Josh replied. “That’s why
I’m glad you have Carly with you. I know you will find fun things to do.
We’ll catch up after these guys leave town in a couple of days.”
Julia sighed and said, “I understand.”
“In the meantime,” said Josh, “I have instructed your concierge to
take care of any tickets or excursions that you would like to do at my
expense. And the limousine is at your disposal.”
“You don’t have to do all that,” said Julia, disappointed that he had
made arrangements as though he had known he wouldn’t be joining them.
“Actually, my company can afford it, and they owe it to me, seeing as how they put us in this position in the first place.”
Julia kissed Josh on the cheek. “Thank you, but I’d rather see you.”
“You will in a couple of days. I promise.”
Julia smiled hesitantly. “I knew we would have to entertain ourselves
for the first couple of days anyway, so we have a Cordon Bleu course
scheduled for tomorrow, and we can work in some sightseeing while we’re
waiting.”
Carly piped up. “Julia is hoping you will want to take tango lessons with her while you’re here.”
“She is, huh?” Josh said, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds interesting.
That might be safer than your tap dance adventures last year.”
“I’m not planning to get involved in any murders this trip. Scout’s promise.” Julia raised her glass.
Carly snorted. “As if you could avoid them.”
“A cooking class at Cordon Bleu sounds safe enough to me,” Josh said as he finished his drink. “Just don’t poison anyone.”
***
Excerpt from Pickled Pink in Paris by PJ Peterson. Copyright 2021 by PJ Peterson. Reproduced with permission from PJ Peterson. All rights reserved.
PJ Peterson was a successful physician practicing internal medicine as her career for thirty-seven years. In 2018, a couple of years after she retired from her more-than-full-time doctor’s life, she dusted off the floppy disc that contained the digital version of a mystery she’d written thirty-five years earlier.
Fortunately a local computer service company was able to transfer all but one chapter (which she keyed in from the only printed copy of the novel) to a CD. Several years earlier PJ had learned about Create Space from a fellow author while waiting in line at the Vatican to see the Sistine Chapel. She looked into it a little and opened an account which then sat idle for six more years.
It took a chance meeting with a young man who had worked for Amazon in the Kindle division for her to take the giant leap of self-publishing that first novel,
. She knew nothing about professional editing, marketing, or having the right cover. She didn’t even know that her particular novel belonged in a genre called “cozy mystery.”
Once she became a published author, and the townspeople told her how much they liked her book, she knew she had to write more books. She’s on the cusp of releasing the fourth book in the Julia Fairchild Mystery series (
) and is at the halfway point of writing the fifth book.
She is thoroughly enjoying her second career as an author. And is happy to have fulfilled her promise to her father that she would eventually publish that novel, even if it didn't happen until twelve years after he died. She’s certain he’s applauding her from Heaven.
