Free Pictures of the Past by Deby Eisenberg Page B

her fingers as if she was about to curtsy, but instead she twirled around like a ballerina.
    “It is beautiful,” he said. He suddenly remembered the comment he had advanced that led now to this action that was further intoxicating him, when he had started to say “I love you,” but had settled for “I love your dress.” And now, almost involuntarily, he began a sentence with “I was just wondering…” And again he did not know the appropriate words to follow. He wanted to say, “I was just wondering if you are tired of hearing that you have the sweetest smile?” or “I was wondering, do you know your hair smells like a fresh garden?” But everything he wanted to say was too forward, too personal, and so he just searched for anything to say, until he finally came up with what he thought might be an acceptable compliment. “I was wondering …if the designer were here now if she would ask you to be her professional model.”
    Taylor had two goals in mind at this point—to remain by her side until they were called for dinner and to secure the seat next to her. When the announcement was made and the group moved toward the elegantly set table, he followed her in the direction of her father, who was standing behind a central chair and motioning for her to come to the one to his right. Taylor assisted in pulling out her chair and then moved to occupy the next seat, but he was frustrated by a calligraphed place card that said instead, “Monsieur Roger Lamont.” Discreetly, he backed away and he proceeded to check each card until he located his. And to his delight, he found he was seated directly across from the irresistible Sarah Berger.
    The following day, when the conference ended in the early afternoon, there was time for Taylor, with Francois, to accompany Sarah and her father to the Eiffel Tower and to ascend the structure with them for a spectacular view of the fair and the city beyond. This outing that was heaven for him, simply because he could be by her side, had actually been her idea.
    “Have you seen the fair yet?” Sarah had asked at dinner the night before. He could barely concentrate on what she was saying, so absorbed he was in memorizing the details of her face, the contours of her neck and shoulders. When he responded that he had indeed been down the promenade, visiting just one building, she persisted. “No, have you really seen the fair—seen it from the Eiffel Tower? That is the only way.”
    She was right. The view was breathtaking, but not the sites she was pointing out—the highlights of the fair, and then the famous landmarks of Paris—the Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe, the Seine snaking through the city. The view of her perfect face and figure framed by the strong rays of the afternoon sun was all he cared to see.
    When they returned to the street level, Sarah pulled her father close to her and whispered something in his ear. And then she repeated it aloud to Taylor. “I am telling Papa that I think this tour has taken a toll on him and he looks tired and a bit out of breath.” She patted her father lovingly on his chest and kissed him on each cheek. “Papa, I would understand if you had enough for the day. Would you allow me please to have dinner with just Taylor this evening? We will be fine.”
    He looked at her as the most loving parent, proud, yet cautious of his precious princess, as he considered his answer. “Well, of course, darling. I promised your mother not to overdo,” he said.
    The services of Taylor’s guide, Francois, had been excellent, not just in the translations necessary when conversing with the conference participants who did not feel comfortable speaking in English, but also for helping to navigate from one location to another. He also helped Taylor acclimate to the French culture, from ordering breakfast to converting the U.S. dollar into French francs. But at this point, Francois, also, was gracious enough to take his leave from the young pair.
    “Mr.