Read Online Christmas in Paris by Anita Hughes - Free Book Online Page A

crystal wineglasses and enamel soup tureens.
    â€œYour mother called,” Neil explained, taking my briefcase and setting it on the sideboard.
    â€œShe did?” I gulped, hoping she’d gotten my texts and wasn’t still at the bridal salon. “What did she say?”
    â€œShe said it must be so stressful working and planning the wedding and she was sorry she suggested shopping on the Main Line. She’s going to find a salon in the city and come and meet you.”
    â€œShe said all that?” I whispered.
    â€œShe also said she hopes we are enjoying ourselves. The whole year shouldn’t be about dress fittings and tastings and trying to pare down our guest list.”
    â€œOf course we’re enjoying ourselves,” I wavered, thinking about the dance lessons we needed to sign up for and honeymoon we should start planning and work files I hadn’t opened on my computer.
    â€œI decided we should spend one night eating a rosemary chicken and autumn vegetables and talking about books and movies,” he continued, pouring two glasses of a Kenwood Chardonnay.
    â€œIs that all we’re going to do?” I laughed, feeling like a child who had been let out of school early.
    â€œWe’re going to do a lot more than that.” He kissed me. “But first we have to eat my roasted chicken.”
    Neil brought out plates of chicken and baked eggplant and scalloped potatoes. There were berries and whipped cream for dessert. My diamond ring glinted in the candlelight and I felt warm and happy.
    Oh, diary, we’re not getting married so I can wear a couture gown or so we can eat raspberry fondant wedding cake. We’re in love and have so much fun together. It is a long time until next December, but I know we’re going to enjoy every minute of it!
    Isabel closed the notebook and walked to the window. She and Neil had seemed so perfect. When had things started to go wrong? But she had made the right decision. She wouldn’t have canceled the wedding if she hadn’t been absolutely certain. Reading the journal was like rethinking a stock trade that had already happened. You had to trust you knew what you were doing, or you could never follow your instincts at all.
    She pulled back the curtains and saw the wide boulevard and yellow taxis. She was in Paris and had the whole day ahead of her. She could walk across the Pont Alexandre III or take a tour of the gardens at the Royal Palace.
    She ate a bite of a croissant and remembered receiving the glass bracelet and almost getting run over by the taxi. She pictured the fortune-teller saying she was going to fall in love and marry a French aristocrat. Of course, that’s why she had trouble sleeping! Suddenly everything was as clear as a winter sky after a snowfall.
    She walked to the closet and selected a cream blouse and navy slacks. She pulled on a wool jacket and leather boots.
    â€œAlways better to bring a gift.” She grabbed a plate of croissants and closed the door behind her.
    *   *   *
    â€œDO YOU ALWAYS appear unannounced?” Alec asked when she knocked on the door. “You don’t look like the kind of woman who shows up at her neighbor’s door with fresh-baked cinnamon rolls.”
    â€œI haven’t baked since I was a teenager.” Isabel entered his suite. A fire flickered in the marble fireplace and there was a silver coffeepot and enamel demitasses. “My mother said cooking was as easy as following a recipe, but I was too impatient to preheat the oven. My oatmeal cookies always ended up with soft centers.”
    â€œI thought you dreamed of a big house in the suburbs with two children and a golden retriever.” Alec raised his eyebrow.
    â€œNot all mothers fill lunch boxes with crustless sandwiches and homemade blueberry muffins.” She handed him a croissant. “I wanted to say thank you for carrying me back to the Crillon and buying me a