Free European Secrets (Paris - Vol. Two) by Ana Vela Page A

like the French of the language CD she’d tried to study before leaving. The cab driver furrowed his brow and strained to understand her. After a few more back and forths, Annie didn’t know if she’d ever be leaving the airport even. But apparently she’d finally communicated well enough: the driver nodded and veered into the road.
     
    The ride from the airport through the outer rings and then through the city was long and slow as they chugged and halted in traffic after a long stint speeding along the highway. At last they neared the district of Montmartre, where stone apartment blocks and villas lined green parks and busy plazas. The streets were bustling with activity and Annie let out a relieved smile when she realized that the scenes were even more beautiful than she had imagined. She saw the white domes and steeples of the cathedral towering above the cobbled streets as the driver slowed over bumpy cobblestones. Kate had promised her she’d be staying in one of the most beautiful parts of the city, and she now understood why it deserved that description.
     
    As the driver turned onto Villa Leandre 18, Annie found herself in cozy, almost-suburban elegance. Rows of villas, shaded and partially concealed by bright green shrubbery, stood lined with low wrought iron fencing. Annie could imagine herself living here in another life; a famed author, working out of an upstairs office with a view of the tree-lined streets of Paris. The narrow road curved around a slight bend, and the cab finally came to a halt. The driver left her on the street with two suitcases, and she gazed up at peaked roofs over wide windows behind brown shutters and short balconies.
     
    The red brick villa where Annie was to stay sat wedged between two whitewashed neighbours. A thick, emerald green canopy of leaves hung low over the doorway. As she lugged her suitcases indoors, she inhaled the fresh scent of garden greenery and sighed at the relief of arrival. Thick, plush rugs covered a neatly tiled floor, and the subdued upholstery and curtains were all in neutral shades. A few modernist pieces decorated the walls on large canvases, and the owner of the villa had left fresh flowers and fruit on the dining table. She flopped into a plush L-shaped sofa and took in her new surroundings, beaming widely. She had two hours before she was supposed to make her way to the café for her rendezvous with Kate’s next man.
     
    She remembered Kate’s words in her last email: “He’s gorgeous, but if you’re not into him, don’t let him drive you home.” Kate had chosen well with Pedro, but Annie wondered if all the men she’d selected could possibly be that attractive and romantic. Surely there was a finite list of men she knew. Or perhaps the game was driving her attraction in the first place, and she hadn’t even realized it. She scribbled down her thoughts in her notebook that was now half full with scrawl. ‘Maybe I’ll actually have a book after all of this…” Annie mused to herself.
     
    After a brief nap and shower, Annie pulled on a short shift dress and black flats. Kate had instructed her to wear a red dress, and carry a map in her hand, so that the mystery man would be able to spot her. The Madrid sun had tanned her legs, and she looked more alive and youthful than she had in years, she mused. She took one last look in the mirror, then grabbed her purse and left, with a map of Paris in her hand.
     
    La Rue du Commerce bustled with shoppers carrying large paper totes and families trying to keep track of their running-wild children. They meandered in and out of intimidatingly expensive boutiques and busy cafes and sat on benches, taking a rest and enjoying the scenes. No one seemed to move with the urgency that Annie was used to; she liked the pace of life here and was starting to see what the Parisian charm was all about. Annie walked toward the cafe, feeling self-conscious, carrying the map and looking behind her, wondering if he’d