ONE FINE DAY IN PARIS
The companion piece to 'The Fox'
PARIS, FRANCE
1969
"Bonjour," the waiter said, his smile forcing the edges of his bushy moustache upwards, as he stood poised, ready to take the orders of the two pretty young women that had chosen one of the café's best outside tables.
"Bonjour," one of the girls answered, the young blonde one perched on the edge of her wicker seat, obviously excited just to speak a single word in French.
Hearing the American accent, the waiter decided to go on in English. "What can I get you today, mademoiselle?"
"Coffee latte, please. No sugar."
"Oui," he said, and turned to the young lady's companion. She was an African girl, but he'd met enough Nigerians and Tunisians and Moroccans to know she wasn't from Northern Africa. He'd have said West Africa, but he had no real idea. "And you, mademoiselle?"
She answered in flawless French. Toast and orange juice.
He laughed, overjoyed at hearing his language coming from the mouth of a foreigner so naturally. Who said French wasn't a widespread language anymore? "Just a minute, ma cherie."
He disappeared into the bowels of the smoky, picturesque Parisian café.
Louise Greenland smiled after him. She'd been in Paris less than a week; she barely spoke a word of French. But she'd found the young woman sitting across from her in her dorm, that morning, as much a foreigner as Louise.
Strangers in a strange land, and all that.
They'd spent the day together, discussing the world; the Soviet Union, Berlin, the election of Nixon the year before, the U.S. embargo on Cuba, nuclear testing, and, of course, the war in Indo China.
They'd drifted over the city, the centre, in Louise's mind, of the world's culture, and of the student movement.
They'd become fast friends.
Louise Greenland, sole child and scion of a millionaire American from Connecticut, sent to Paris to learn about the world.
Priscilla Adei-Cardwell, heir to a multimillion dollar Ghanaian coffee export business, sent to Paris to learn about running a business to conquer the world.
Two more different people, other than the largess of their families, would have been harder to find in Paris, but they had found each other. Now, here they were, for a snack at the perfect café in the perfect part of the perfect city. No matter what their families' intentions, they were in Paris to live their lives.
And so they continued talking, chatting amicably as though they had known each other their whole lives, not five hours.
It had been a fine summer day, she mused, drinking her freshly arrived latte.
That was when someone tapped Greenland on the shoulder. She turned to look, and found herself face to face with a dark-haired, smiling woman of about forty.
"Excuse me," the woman began. "I detected an American accent."
She herself had a broad Mid-Western accent. Greenland nodded, and introduced herself. The woman explained she was alone in Paris, and was hoping for some American company, just to give herself a taste of home.
Louise and Priscilla readily accepted, and soon the woman had ordered coffee, and the three had started talking.
Inevitably, the topic shifted to politics.
They discussed the things tearing the world apart; be it the strife in Vietnam, or the assassinations in the United States, or the collapse of the Central American and post-colonial African economies.
That's when Louise said something she'd never actually meant to say. "I guess we can only hope that there's someway that we could save the world."
The woman turned to her, and Louise saw a hint of something in her eyes. Something she didn't want to know the name of. "Do you really mean that?"
Greenland wasn't sure if she was or she wasn't. "Yes." What? She hadn't meant to say that.
Priscilla looked at her, concerned.
"Because what if I told you there was?" the woman said, her voice promising mystery, adventure. Power. "You two, and me, and others?"
Now, even Priscilla was paying the woman rapt attention. "How?" she asked.
"There are people with special powers."
Greenland wanted to scoff, to laugh, to call the woman crazy, congratulate her on the joke, and move on. But she couldn't. Something in her mind stopped her, something she couldn't quite put a finger on. She remained silent, let the woman talk.
"People like me, and like the two of you," the woman said, and Greenland was inspired, somehow, even though she had said little. "It's no coincidence you two met. I made sure of it."
"How?" Louise asked.
The woman looked at her. "First things first," she said, extending her hand. "I'm Cathy Chambers."