Free A Summer in Paris by Cynthia Baxter

the theater.
    “I guess the critics don’t always know what they’re talking about,” Alain said with a rueful smile.
    “That Charlotte LePage is wonderful. I’d love to find out more about her.”
    “Really? Why?”
    “Oh, I don’t know. I was just really struck by her talent and her beauty.” She eyed him curiously. “Why, don’t you like her?”
    Alain laughed. “Kristy, all of France loves Charlotte LePage. Why should I be any different?
    “Now enough about movies,” he said firmly. “How about something more real? Something like my stomach. I’m hungry, and I happen to know a place that makes the most wonderful chocolate éclairs in Paris.”
    Kristy was only too happy to say yes.
    * * * *
    “Gee, Kristy. I’m really thrilled for you,” Jennifer said dryly. “It sounds like you’ve met the man of your dreams.”
    “Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Kristy replied uneasily. She could tell from her friend’s tone of voice that she had made a mistake in calling her to report on her date with Alain.
    You should have known how she was going to react, Kristy told herself. She made a vow that, from then on, she would be careful about what she told her friend.
    Jennifer, meanwhile, was in a terrible mood when she hung up the phone.
    Great, just great, she was thinking. Everybody is having the time of their lives except me. She started to retreat to her bedroom, armed with the latest book she had bought, a novel written in English. Well, I’ve managed to get through the first week, anyway. Only seven left to go.
    On her way to her room, however, she met up with Madame Cartier. She was wearing a huge smile, as always.
    “Ah, Jennifer, there you are,” the woman said in French. “I have some good news for you.”
    I can only imagine, Jennifer thought. “What is it?”
    “I have invited my granddaughter, Michèle, up to Paris for a while. She lives in Lyons, but she often comes to stay with Henri and me. She loves Paris so, and of course we always enjoy seeing each other.”
    Terrific. Another Cartier to deal with. “When is she coming?”
    “In a few days. And I am certain you will like her, Jennifer. She is seventeen years old, about the same age as you. And she is so much fun.” Earnestly Madame Cartier added, “I think she will help you have a better time while you are here in Paris.”
    But I don’t want to have a good time in Paris, Jennifer was thinking. All I want to do is get this summer over with—and have as little to do with anything or anybody as possible.
    And when she finally managed to get away from her talkative hostess, she went into her bedroom, closed her door, and began writing one of her daily reports to Danny, in which she repeated exactly that.
    * * * *
    What a different world the small town of Sainte Marie was from Paris. As Nina stepped off the train, she could hardly believe she had traveled only ten miles south of the bustling city. The sweet air, the sound of birds singing, and the quiet streets, practically deserted so early on a Saturday morning, were her first real reminder that there was more to France than the cosmopolitan city she had already begun to think of as home.
    She was pleased that she was getting the opportunity to see a charming little town like Sainte Marie. But as she set off toward the center of town, she reminded herself that she was hardly here on a sight-seeing trip. Her research into the telephone books for the region south of Paris, the suggestion of the kind doctor at the clinic at Number 7 rue des Fleurs, had told her that there was only one Marcel du Lac. This morning, Nina intended to find him.
    Slowly, the town was beginning to come to life. As she walked down the main street, the shops were just opening. The proprietor of a tiny flower shop was arranging bouquets of bright, colorful blossoms. Up ahead, the owner of the grocery store waved to her before turning the metal crank that opened up the red-and-white striped awning. Already she