Suddenly the thought of being back in Paris sounded exhilarating. She still had reservations about skipping work and stood there undecide.
“If you’re not ready in 5 minutes, I swear I’ll take off without you,” Falcon warned.
It was enough to send Carla flying towards the stairs, when a thought struck. “What do I wear?” She had no idea what his plans were.
“Just grab your purse or whatever it is you women think important,” he replied.
Carla did as she was told noting that she had on a pair of ripped jeans and a simple shirt. She chucked the working shoes she had on and exchanged it for a pair of sneakers. If they were going to do a lot of walking, at least she was ready, she thought.
The short trip to Paris was conducted in easy silence. Carla had grown used to his presence she no longer felt jumpy around him. It was like the progress she was making with his house, developing quite well, just like their relationship. He often teased her, poked fun at miserable attempt at French, indulged her when she wanted something done her way.
Carla in turn had learned to read him quite well. She knew when he was happy, satisfied, or irritated. She learned when to sweet-talk him and when accepted his decision without a fight.
The familiar face of Charles from Hotel Plaza Athenee greeted them at the airstrip. Carla suppressed her excitement over the idea that Falcon probably booked them for an overnight stay, again.
After the usual amenities they were on their way. Carla leaned back in the luxury leather of the limo drinking in the sites that was slowly becoming familiar in her memory. The city sidewalks were bustling with pedestrians holding valises or tourists lugging shopping bags while taking photographs of the city. The limo made its way to Rue Saint-Honore in the 1starrondissement before coming to a stop.
Carla looked at Falcon curiously as Charles opened the door for her.
“Where are we going,” she asked.
“You’ll see,” he replied mysteriously holding out his hand.
Carla gladly held on to him as he led her down the street before making a quick turn to a hidden alley. At the end was an arched doorway that was partially hidden by climbing hydrangea. Falcon pushed it open. Inside was a quaint foot path that led to another door. Falcon rang the bell and the door was answered by a tall thin woman with graying hair that she allowed to hang freely around her shoulder. The woman’s eyes were heavily lined with mascara giving her a menacing appearance that vanished when she caught sight of Falcon.
She threw her arms around him in delight.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming, you naughty boy?”
“I didn’t know I was coming,” Falcon replied. “Carla meet Esmee. Esmee here is Paris’ best kept secret.”
Carla wondered who Esmee was until the woman enlightened her. “I make clothes that sell in couture houses. I sell them cheap, a famous designer adds his own label, then… voila! He makes ten times more profit.” She laughed then added, “Falcon and I work together for his fashion brand, Live Glow. I think it’s a silly name and I’ve told Falcon that.”
Carla smiled.
“Esmee has fabulous workmanship in the things she creates,” Falcon added then stepped away with her.
Carla wondered what they were doing here. Esmee then proceeded to walk around her like some predator then stepped back and clapped her hand.
“A size 6, I would guess.” Esmee declared before disappearing into a back room.
“What exactly are we doing here,” Carla asked in a stage whisper.
Falcon merely shrugged his shoulder.
Esmee reappeared pushing a garment rack into the room. Dresses in various styles, lengths and colors displayed from hangers. She pulled one out, shook her head before returning it to the rack. Carla thought she heard the words “Grand Palais” and “Le Louvre,” under her breath.
Esmee examined another dress then smiled. It was a fit and flare intricate burgundy dress with rounded neckline, sleeveless, and fell just above the knee.
The designer looked at Falcon for approval. He nodded slightly.
“Falcon, what…” Carla, still clueless, started to protest.
Esmee commandeered her to a dressing room where she was told to strip and put on the dress. It fitted like a dream. Esmee was delighted even as she began rummaging in a drawer before pulling out a pair of brown block sandals with heels to match the dress.
“We need to do something about the hair, Esmee mumbled, as she pulled away the band that gathered Carla’s hair.
“That’s better,” Esmee approved at the locks that tumbled to Carla’s shoulders. I presume you have some lipstick and blush in your purse? You have glowing skin and that’s all you need. I always believed less is more.”
