Chapters 26 – The End

26.

Shelly, Jorge, and Vida sat in the back seat of an all black Chevy Suburban. The interior was also black, the windows deeply tinted to prevent passerby from seeing who was inside. A bulky, heavily-muscled bald man sat in the driver’s seat. His black t-shirt and cargo pants matched the vehicle. He stared straight ahead, ignoring his charges. Another Suburban, exactly like the one they were in, faced them, and a duplicate security man occupied its driver’s seat. His face was expressionless. Out on the sidewalk Lori stood negotiating their release with an somber bunch of black-clad warriors, all of whom appeared to have been plucked from the offensive line of a football team. Lori, who easily topped six feet in heels, looked tiny and defenseless among the behemoths circling her. They couldn’t hear what she was saying from inside the vehicle, but from her posture they deduced there was a lot of pleading and bargaining occurring. All of them turned toward the elevator as the doors oozed open and two men in grey suits slithered out. Both of them were in their mid-thirties, had dark hair, blue ties, and were shorter than everyone else in the vicinity. They carried briefcases almost identical to Lori’s.
Vida watched them approach the group. “I smell lawyers,” she said, looking over at Shelly.
Lori and the attorneys traded hellos, then exchanged names and business cards. The clutch of giant men took a few steps back to give them a semblance of privacy. One of the attorneys asked a brief question and Lori launched into a soliloquy apparently protesting their innocence. The lawyers watched, stone-faced when she appeared to run out of steam. The other attorney asked another question. Lori looked puzzled, then shook her head. He stared at her, then nodded to one of the guards, who came over and held out his arms. The lawyer placed his briefcase on the guard’s outstretched forearms, clicked open the case and produced a stack of papers which he then handed to Lori. Lori studied the papers, occasionally pausing to ask a question. Shelly watched, wondering how long this was going to take. The guards had confiscated their cell phones and she wasn’t wearing a watch. She thought they might have been in the car about twenty minutes.
When Lori was done reading, and had asked all the pertinent questions she could think of, she approached the car and motioned to the guard to roll down the window so she could talk to her friends. He complied.
“Could we have a moment of privacy, please?” she asked him.
He looked at her in the rear view mirror. “No,” he replied.
Lori sighed and decided not to press the issue.
“Ok, here’s what is happening,” she told Shelly.”they are going to let you go, but there are some conditions.”
Shelly leaned forward to see around Jorge and Vida.
“Who are those men?” she asked, nodding toward the attorneys.
“They work for Steve’s company. Security has decided not to bring this to the attention of the LAPD per their request. They are keeping you out of jail right now, but any lack of cooperation on your part and you will be meeting some of L.A.’s finest. They have acknowledged me as your representative and I am negotiating on your behalf. Let’s all pledge to play in their sandbox like nice kids, so we can get the hell out of here.”
“Steve sicced his lawyers on us?” Jorge asked in disbelief.
“Steve is the one who is protecting you. He could have simply had you arrested, but he doesn’t want the negative attention, and you didn’t do him any harm. We should be thinking happy thoughts for Steve.”
Vida thought she heard the guard in the front seat grunt in amusement.
“What are the conditions?” asked Shelly.
Lori held up the stack of papers.
“These are release forms. We will have to sign them and abide strictly by the terms laid out in this agreement. We will all have to follow the rules, including Vida and me. The terms are as follows – we cannot ever speak of this incident to anyone. That means no actual talking, texting, blogging, tweeting, mailing, electronic or otherwise, no direct or indirect hints that we were ever here. No information is to be shared with the tabloids, or anyone associated in any way with celebrity gossip websites or shows. We can’t write a tell-all book, or appear on a morning talk show. Next, we must immediately, upon our release, go to the hotel, pack our bags, and leave California. Two of these guards will accompany us to the hotel, escort us to the airport, and put us on a plane. Reservations have been made in first class in our names. Finally, once we leave Los Angeles we can never return.”
“Wait,” said Vida. “You mean we’re being exiled from California? Can they do that – exile us from the whole state?”
“We are not ‘exiled’ from California. We just aren’t allowed to return to L.A.”
“Can they really keep us out?”
“They are not ‘keeping us out’,” Lori explained. “We are agreeing to not return in exchange for our freedom. It is our choice. If we return, we can be arrested for trespassing, possibly stalking, and sued for violating the agreement. There’s nothing we want here anyway. Right, Shell?” Lori said through clenched teeth, eyeing Shelly menacingly.
“No, I’m good,” Shelly said mildly. “I’m ready to go home.”
“How about the rest of you?” Lori asked.
Jorge and Vida nodded.
Lori thrust the papers through the window, along with a pen.
“Sign them,” she ordered.
“Shouldn’t we read them first?” asked Vida. She was still miffed about being thrown out of California.
“Sign them!” Lori barked.
Shelly signed, then Vida and Jorge. Jorge handed the papers back to Lori. As she stepped away, the guard rolled up the window.
“That was fairly painless,” Vida remarked, as she watched a sleek, black Audi sedan pull into a parking space off to their left. It looked like an A8 or maybe an S8 model. She was glad that the windows of the car they sat in were so darkly tinted. Even though she didn’t know anyone in California, it was still embarrassing to be caught in a messy situation. The Audi’s engine shut down and it’s running lights went off. She liked the powerful, sexy appearance of the car, and idly wondered how much one would cost.
Jorge watched Lori talk to the lawyers as they went through the agreement and checked the signatures. They were huddled together like a small flock of grey birds, heads bobbing for legal crumbs. He was incredibly glad that Lori had decided to come along, and resolved to buy her a nice dinner when they returned to D.C. as thanks for getting them out of this pickle.
Shelly felt surprisingly good. The adrenaline rush had mostly worn off and it had left her with a mild buzzing in her head. As far as she knew, her screenplay was still in Steve’s office. If the movie got made, it didn’t matter that she couldn’t come back to Los Angeles, because the premiere could always be held in Washington where it had been filmed. Shelly wasn’t sure if the writer of a script was invited to stroll the red carpet for a premiere, but she hoped so, and decided that she would most definitely attend if asked. She put her head back against the seat and amused herself imagining what she would wear, and what she would say to Mr. Statham when she met him.
Vida was watching the nape of the guard’s neck and thinking that perhaps it would be improved if he shaved the short, wiry hairs that had grown in since his last haircut, when she saw him glance into the side mirror on the door and stiffen slightly. She turned to look out the window beside Shelly and saw a man getting ready to shut the driver’s door on the Audi. He was wearing a soft brown leather jacket over a light grey cashmere sweater. Faded jeans covered his muscular legs and his sneakers were blindingly clean and white. He was about Lori’s height, his brown hair cut close to his scalp. She admired his physique for about half a second before she recognized him.
“Oh, my God! Oh, shit!” Vida grabbed Shelly’s leg just above the knee and squeezed hard.
“Ow! That hurts! What’s wrong with you?” Shelly asked, trying to pry Vida’s hand loose.
Jorge followed his sister’s line of sight. His jaw dropped open.
“Guh…urg. Heh…fek,” he gargled, pointing over Shelly’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry, what? Vida let go!” Shelly couldn’t understand what’s had come over them. She squirmed around in her seat to get a better view.
Jason Statham was walking across the garage floor toward the elevator.
Shelly squealed. Spoken language deserted her. She forgot her own name. He was right there in front of her. Well, more like behind her. A frown creased his familiar face as he glanced at the SUV and the small crowd assembled on the sidewalk, his stride never changing as he approached them.
“He can’t see us. He can’t see us. He can’t see us,” Vida was repeating in a mantra.
The elevator doors slid open and he was gone.
“That’s who Mark was talking to on the phone when we went into Steve’s office. Shelly it was him. It was Jason. That was the appointment he had,” Jorge rattled off excitedly.
Shelly let out the breath she had been holding in an explosive rush as she realized that she had missed meeting Mr. Statham by mere minutes.
“Oh, my,” she said, slightly baffled.” We missed him be this much.” She held out her thumb and finger about a quarter inch apart. “By just this much,” she added sadly.
Lori came bounding over to the vehicle, a big smile on her pretty face.
“We’re all set. All we have to do is gather our things from the hotel and…” she trailed off as she noticed the silence in the back seat. “What’s going on?” she asked, puzzled.
“He was here,” Vida explained. “In the parking garage. There’s his car.” She pointed out the window toward the Audi.
“Who was here? What are you talking about, Vida?”
“Jay-Stay. We saw him. He walked right past you.”
Lori didn’t quite know what to do with this information. Had her friends simply caved under the strain of the day’s events, was it some type of mass hysteria brought about by the late night at the Chateau Marmont? Could it truly be possible she had missed seeing this despicable apparition while she was going over the non-disclosure forms?
“No. Flippin’. Way.” Lori thought.
“I do not know what has gotten into the three of you, but I assure you, it was not him,” she said firmly. She caught the guard looking at her in the rearview mirror with a small smile on his pug dog face. Suddenly, she knew the truth.
“It was him, wasn’t it?” she said to the guard in a tiny voice.
The guard nodded slowly.
Lori looked at Shelly who nodded in agreement with the guard. The disappointment and resignation on her face made Lori want to cry.
“Oh, Shell,” Lori said.
“It’s alright,” Shelly said gently. “He couldn’t see us through the windows. I’m as invisible now as I’ve always been to him. There’s still a chance though.” She inclined her head toward the guard to indicate that he was listening to the conversation.
“Right,” Lori said briskly. “Let’s get to the hotel, and take care of business.” She hopped into the front seat beside the guard. He put the car in gear and drove out of the garage, the other black SUV following close behind.

27.

Shelly sat in the delicious spring sunshine, her face turned up, eyes closed, and listened to the sounds of the town waking around her. Swifts and finches called to one another as they circled and fluttered over the small plaza. Shopkeepers chatted and called ‘bon matin’ to their friends as they opened up the storefronts. Awnings were lowered, chairs pulled from the tops of tables and set upright. Flowers in big pots and hanging in baskets were being watered. The smell of baking bread and sweet pastries wafted into the street from a nearby boulangerie, and a fountain with ugly cherubs burbled musically.
There had been no Hollywood moment for Shelly. No calls came from Steve’s office, or any other office in Los Angeles. Mr. Statham apparently remained blissfully unaware of her existence. She had wondered over the last few months if Steve had informed his buddy when they finally met in his office, about the crazy redhead and her Latino friend that had appeared as he was washing up in his bathroom. They might have enjoyed a brief laugh about it, then dismissed it as more show business weirdness.
After the disastrous encounter in Steve’s office, the ride back to the hotel, the packing, and the ride to the airport were accomplished in silence. The excitement of the last days had them all drained, and they sat wrapped in their individual reflections, in the VIP lounge waiting for the plane. The security personnel had taken them directly there to prevent them from speaking to anyone, and hadn’t left until they were safely stashed in first class winging their way back to Washington. The great seating had been provided as an obvious bribe. One of the lawyers from the parking garage had shown up and glared at them meaningfully as they walked down the ramp to the plane’s door. Shelly had turned around just before boarding. He was still watching.
When they were finally in the air Lori grabbed the first flight attendant she saw and ordered a round of vodka and juice for all of them. Even that didn’t break the dismal mood. Shelly spent the majority of the flight staring out the window at the cottony puffs of clouds below the plane. Once, Lori put her hand on Shelly’s shoulder and started to say something. Shelly put her hand over Lori’s and said gently, “Don’t. Just…don’t.” Lori quietly removed her hand and nodded in understanding. At Dulles, they separated near the baggage carousels with hugs and promises to get together soon.
Upstairs in her bedroom, Shelly sat on the edge of the bed staring at the empty corkboard on the wall beside the desk. The pictures of Mr. Statham were still in her bag, nestled carefully in her clothes to prevent creases. She didn’t put them back up when she began to unpack.
It took nearly a week before they started to call each other. It took Lori a week after that to stop seething that she had missed her chance to tell Jason what she really thought of him. One more week went by before any of them had the courage to say his name in front of Shelly.
Shelly hadn’t been mourning or pouting, or even worried about her script. She had simply thrown herself back into her Silver Spring existence running the bed and breakfast, attending classes at the dojin, and getting ready for Thanksgiving. Since she had no idea how long the vetting process on a screenplay usually took it was easy not to think about what was going on in L.A. If necessary, she was prepared to wait months for a call.
The inn was fully booked during Thanksgiving week, and after the guests had gone home, Shelly and Jorge had gone full tilt at getting it ready for winter and the last busy week of the year, Christmas. They cleaned out the flower beds and mulched, put the outdoor furniture away, dumped out the potted plants and stored the containers. Jorge climbed to the top of the roof and ran strings of Christmas lights around the eaves. Shelly put up the tree and got the fifteen bins of decorations out of the basement. Every room had its own set of merry ornaments. Holly garlands with little twinkling lights were strewn on every mantle and stair railing, wreaths hung on all the doors and windows. Angels littered the house like road kill. An old sled from Shelly’s childhood, adorned with a pair of skates and a small gold wreath sat beside the front entrance. A pair of antique wooden cross-country skis perched on the other side. Two lighted twig reindeer grazed silently in the front yard. One of them was animated and occasionally raised its head and gazed off into the distance as if contemplating the mysteries of the universe. Festive holiday soaps appeared in the guest bathrooms, Christmas themed quilts and pillows covered the beds. It took five days to get it all done, and when they were through, Lori and Vida came over for dinner, egg nog and a tour, oohing and aahing at the appropriate paces. No one mentioned Mr. Statham.
Shelly and Jorge arrived one clear, brisk December evening to discover that Belinda had dyed her hair white and removed her piercings. Shelly thought she looked beautiful and told her so.
“I needed a change.” Belinda stared at the top of here exception desk, moving her index finger around in circles on the faded wood.
“Change keeps things exciting, Belinda,” Shelly said, ducking down to try to catch the girl’s gaze. “There is no point in being…static.”
Belinda tried the word on for size. “Static….”
“You can change your life whenever you want. All you have to do is decide, then go do it. Maybe it won’t work out exactly like you plan, but it will work out, and sometimes the results are amazing.”
Belinda stared at Shelly. “What happened to you?” she finally asked.
“I went on an adventure. Part of it was coming here. But there was more and it has made me….something else.”
“In a good way?”
“A very good way.”
Belinda nodded. “Dad’s looking forward to seeing you,” she said, smiling. Karate Bob welcomed them back enthusiastically, and then worked them like rented mules. Shelly took an exceptionally long shower when she returned home hoping it would forestall the inevitable morning stiffness.
The b-n-b filled up again the week of Christmas. Presents piled up around the tree, the colorful boxes spilling into the common area. There would be a midnight wine and gift exchange party with Lori and Vida coming to stay. Lori would bunk with Shelly, and Jorge got custody of Vida, since there were no rooms at the inn. Lori was ditching them Christmas Day to go see David and Jimbo in West Virginia, but Vida planned on hanging around to eat the Virginia smoked ham that had been procured for the mid-day feast. She and her brother would put in a conference call to their parents, and she would help get the guests that were leaving early out the door and on their way.
Most of the families at the inn had gone to bed by midnight. Shelly could hear some water running in two of the rooms and the floors creaking in another. She and Jorge brought hot mulled mead and a big platter of cookies from the kitchen.
“It’s still too warm to drink. Anyone want to put on their pajamas before we elect a Santa to hand out gifts?” Shelly asked. They ran up the stairs like little kids, made record time changing their clothes, and reassembled by the tree.
“Let me tell you some stories about these ornaments,” Shelly said with a sly grin.
“Forget that, Shell, make good with the swag. Jorge can be Santa,” Lori ordered, pouring everyone a steaming mug of mead. Jorge reached around the back of the tree and pulled out a long white beard and a red furry hat. He adjusted the beard on his chin then set the hat at a rakish angle. It clashed violently with his blue satin, striped pajamas.
Vida took a picture of him with her phone. “Mom will love this,” she said. For awhile they took turns posing for photos, Shelly in a long red and green flannel gown, Vida in a pair of pale blue lounge pants with cavorting snowmen on them and a blue t-shirt, Lori in a classic masculine sleeper set in creamy satin that made her resemble a blonde Katherine Hepburn. They stood by the tree, pointed at gingerbread cookies, held up glasses of mead, and made bunny ears above each other’s heads. Finally, they sat down on the floor next to the presents. Jorge grabbed the closest one and called out “Lori!”
Lori studied the card. “From Shelly, Vida, and Jorge,” she read. Lori methodically pulled the silver paper from the box, folded it neatly, and carefully set it aside. Vida rolled her eyes.
Inside was a climbing harness with Lori’s name embroidered on one of the straps. Several carabiners of different sizes were threaded onto a keying, and a purple and white climbing rope lay neatly coiled in the bottom.
“Wonderful!” she exclaimed. “Now I don’t have to borrow Dave’s equipment when we go hit the rocks.”
“It’s going so well between you two that we thought you might like your own gear,” explained Shelly.
“Even if we broke up tomorrow I’d still go without him. I love the feeling when I’m about to ab off a tall cliff. There’s really nothing like it.”
Vida tugged out a pyramid of boxes tied together with a simple, red bow from her side of the tree. “This is for Jorge, but it’s too heavy to lift. Maybe you’d better slide over here to open them.”
Jorge read the card. “Expecting big things from you, love Vida, Shelly, and Lori. Hmmm….what could it be?” he asked, eyes twinkling. The top box held the newest version of bed and breakfast reservation software. The second contained a new set of expensive and potentially deadly Japanese meat-carving knives. In the third box, flatter and thinner than the first two, was a chef’s apron stenciled with the words ‘I’ll still be cooking during the zombie apocalypse’.
As Jorge picked up the bottom box he grunted. “You aren’t kidding about this being heavy.” He lifted the lid to discover an eighteen inch cast iron Dutch oven.
“This is great!” I finally have one big enough to do two chickens at once. Thanks!”
“The software was Shelly’s idea. She told us that you’ve been wanting an updated version. She’s tired of hearing you curse at the old one when you’re working in the office,” said Vida.
“Thanks Shell.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I hated that old program.”
“Good,” Shelly replied. “Because starting next year you’re running the show. I am going to concentrate on some other things, so I thought you had better have the equipment to get the job done properly.”
Jorge beamed. “You mean it? I get to boss you around once in awhile?”
“More than once in awhile. And I’m sure you’ll make a very good boss.”
Jorge set his presents aside and went back to playing Santa. He picked out a flat, rectangular box with blue and silver snowflakes on the wrapping. “Vida, this is for you.”
Vida shook it violently. Then she tore into the wrapping, shredding it to pieces. Lori looked disgusted with the mess. In the box were many layers of white tissue paper. Vida dug through them and found a single gift certificate at the bottom. She held it up for everyone to see.
“It’s for Coup de Foudre. For $500. What is Coup de Foudre?” she asked, looking at Lori.
“We are going shopping. I cannot stand seeing you in those abominable stained lounge pants and sloppy shirts. You are not in college anymore. It’s time for you to start dressing like a woman,” replied Lori. She pulled another blue and silver box from under the tree and handed it to Shelly. “I’ll save you the trouble, Shell-face. It’s the same gift. That granny gown outfit you’re wearing doesn’t fit the new you – in style or size. You look lost in all that fabric. We can all go together and make a day of it. Lingerie first, then French food and wine in Georgetown after.”
“I’m glad you are going with us, Lori,” said Vida. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to trick you out like a Parisian hooker. They also sell loungewear.”
Shelly giggled. “I think I’d like to be tricked out, Lori, pretty please? I want to wear fancy bras. Mine are old and sad. I promise to dump my grandma stuff in the trash if you’ll set me up.”
Lori was astonished. “Will wonders never cease? I thought I’d have to drag the two of you kicking and screaming into the store and tie you to a dress rack. How nice that I won’t have to wrestle you into your new underwear.”
Jorge piped up. “Oooooh. Underwear wrestling.”
Vida laughed and flipped him off.
Jorge yanked down his beard and took a swig of mead, then reached into the branches of the tree carefully avoiding the fragile ornaments to retrieve an envelope.
“This is for you, Shelly. From all of us.”
Shelly took it and looked at the front. In beautiful swooping calligraphy was her name surrounded by hand-colored gold stars. She turned it over and opened the flap. Inside was a plane ticket to Paris. Behind that was a train ticket to Nimes. Shelly’s eyes grew wide and she stared at her friends. “What does this mean?” she gasped.
“It means that you are going to stay at the Chardonnay’s mazet. We arranged it, and they are expecting you next May for two whole weeks of French food, French wine, and French men on the French Riviera. They are also dropping you off for a few days in Aix-en-Provence at their apartment where you can sit on the roof and gaze at the street that Jason drove down in the chase scene.” Lori grimaced slightly as she related the last part.
Tears shone in Shelly’s eyes as she tried to get words out past the lump in her throat. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Try this. Thank you very much, my dearest friends, for this amazing opportunity,” said Lori. “You may also add, ‘Lori, I would love it if you joined me on this adventure, because I know how much you’ve always wanted to go there.”
“Would you go with me? Really?”
“Try to stop me,” Lori grinned. “My credit card is primed and ready for a good thrashing. I vote we swipe it til it smokes.”
Shelly looked at Jorge. “I’ll be staying here to work the front desk,” he said.
“And I’ll be staying here to help him with the chores,” said Vida. “The two of you will just have to bring back souvenirs, a big pile of pictures, and a whole bunch of fabulous stories to share.”
“Lilliette has sent me about forty emails with suggestions for things we should see and do. She has made a dozen lists of places to eat and shop. If we follow her itinerary we’ll be there six months. She’s so far beyond excited that she may blow a gasket, so we have to go or we’d be risking her health,” Lori warned.
“Well, I certainly don’t want the death of Lilliette on my conscience for all eternity, so I guess we’ll just have to suck it up and go,” giggled Shelly.
“Very noble, Shell. Go to France and save a woman’s life. Why be a simple tourist when you can be a hero?” Vida put her hand over her heart and gazed up at Shelly in mock adoration.
Big presents unwrapped and appreciated, Jorge doled out the rest of the smaller ones. Stockings were ripped down from the mantel with no care whatsoever, and for awhile they happily munched on chocolates and swilled mead in quantities that required a trip to the kitchen for another pitcher. Christmas carols that had been playing in the background grew a bit louder, and Shelly leaped up to shut the door to the common room so that the guests could continue to sleep peacefully. Loris sang her x-rated version of ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’ and received a standing ovation. Finally, Jorge produced a garbage bag, and they set about cleaning up the wrapping paper, taking dirty dishes to the kitchen and filling the dishwasher. Looking at the clock, Shelly groaned.
“We have to be up in three hours. I’ve got to go to bed,” she said, tiredly. “It was a great Christmas. Thanks to all of you.”
“It’s going to be a great New Year’s as well, Shelly.” Vida hugged her friend as she trudged by on her way to bed.
“Fantastic year ahead,” said Lori, arm draped around Shelly’s shoulder as they trailed after Vida.
Jorge turned out the kitchen lights and followed the girls. “I love you all,” he whispered as he climbed the stairs.

Shelly smiled as she watched Lori stride across the plaza, a small coterie of waiters bearing coffee and croissants dogging her footsteps and staring at legs. Even in a foreign country, with a command of the native language that made every encounter a game of charades and apologies, Lori could organize an amazing and welcome breakfast.
“I have no idea where all those awful stereotypes about the rudeness of the French come from,” Lori declared. “The men here seem very helpful and friendly.”
Shelly hid a smirk behind her coffee cup. All men were helpful and friendly when Lori was around.
They had flown to Paris from Washington D.C. Shelly arrived feeling disoriented and wrinkled after a nap on the plane. Lori arrived looking as though she had stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. Baggage handlers and cabbies flocked to Lori’s side, while Shelly stood back and took pictures. They had booked one night at a hotel that promised a view of the Eiffel Tower. On the way there, they listened to the cabbie shout belligerently into his cell phone while they gawked at the sights.
Assisted by a bottle of wine thoughtfully provided to their room by the Charbonneaus, they finally discovered the view of the famous landmark. By standing in the bathtub, opening a small window, and craning their necks as far to the left as possible, they could see the top of the tower in the foggy distance. Shelly stuck her arm out and took a picture. They collapsed, giggling, into the tub and sat there until they finished the wine. After dinner in their room and a bottle of champagne, they lay in bed going over the details of the next day’s journey. Shelly fell asleep under a map folded to a rectangle of the southern coastline.
In the morning, as the train wound its way through the countryside into the mountains, they took turns sitting by the window. Lori declared the train car a marvel of comfort. Shelly gave up her window seat to Lori permanently when they hit the first mountain pass and she got a glimpse of the abyss a thousand meters below. Shelly struck up a conversation with some German students to take her mind off the heights. They spent a pleasant morning learning American insults, and teaching Shelly to curse in German.

The Charbonneaus picked them up at the train station, managing to squeeze four people and six suitcases into a tiny car. Lilliette spent the ride facing backward in her seat chatting with Shelly and Lori. When they arrived at the elegantly restored, three-story farmhouse, Maurice gallantly carried the luggage to the guest house that in a former existence had been a pig shed. The cozy downstairs was painted white with turquoise trim. Books were stacked on small tables beside the chairs in the living room, and small paintings of flowers and landscapes covered every wall. A round table that seated four sat between the living room and galley kitchen. Shelly counted three different wine racks, all full. The coffee maker, microwave, and an under-counter refrigerator took up most of the kitchen space. A tiny sink and two narrow cupboards completed it. In the corner a circular metal staircase led to a bedroom with a closet bathroom. Two beds with beautiful floral quilts, a single wicker chair painted yellow, and a tall wardrobe stationed between two bright, sunny windows made them welcome. When Lori asked how they had gotten the wardrobe up the stairs, Maurice explained that it had been raised on a winch attached to the rafters when the roof had been replaced. He then invited them to come to the main house for cocktails when they had finished unpacking.
Lori and Shelly wasted no time stowing their clothes in the wardrobe, washing their faces, and hustling out the door. They did slow down a bit to admire the patio and pool that sat between the guest house and the main residence, but decided there would be time later to tour all the grounds. Two sets of French doors opened into the house, one set for the kitchen and the other for the grand living room. The mazet was stone, trim painted a dark yellow ocher. Royal blue shutters graced every window. Scarlet roses climbed the walls beside the doors and ivy grew up to the roof on the corner of the house.
Inside, the house was cool and dark, lit by table lamps where the sunshine didn’t reach. The back wall of the living room was covered with floor to ceiling bookshelves crammed full of gardening and art books. Seashells, statuettes, and ornately decorated boxes took up what little space was left. In the corner sat a Queen Anne wing chair, a small, round marble table, and an Art Deco table lamp. Beside the chair was a pile of books that were stacked as high as the top of the table. In front of a massive brick and stone fireplace was a seating area with a couch piled high with pillows. Two wide, deep chairs flanked the sofa, and a heavy, low coffee table had been placed in the center. An antique silver tray on the table held an icy carafe of martinis and four glasses. From a wide, short doorway that led to the kitchen, Lilliette was laughing and talking with Maurice, who stood by the thick beam that served as a mantle for the fireplace.
“This is a wonderful house,” Shelly exclaimed. “The pictures didn’t do it justice.”
“We always talked about retiring to somewhere different,” Maurice informed them. “But now we can not bear the thought of leaving.” He picked up the martini shaker and rattled it gently. “I hope you will find these refreshing.”
“I have an entertainment for you this evening,” Lilliette said, joining them by the coffee table. “After dinner we may watch a movie. It is believed to be a favorite of Shelly. Le Transporteur.”
Lori took a big gulp of her martini, and managed to not roll her eyes or groan out loud. She had assumed a certain amount of Jason worship would occur on this trip, but surely not the first night there. She tossed back the rest of her drink and held the glass out to Maurice for a refill. He raised a questioning eyebrow and looked bemused. Lori cocked her head to one side, smiled brightly, and blinked at him.
“I must fuel the car for our travels tomorrow. We could leave these two to enjoy their film and take a ride to village. Perhaps you would accompany me?” Maurice offered.
“How could a girl refuse such an opportunity? Sounds like a perfect plan to me!” Lori replied, spiritedly. She had suddenly realized that Maurice didn’t share his wife’s enthusiasm for the movie. He was looking for a way out and had shared his escape with her. “Thanks, Maurice.”
Shelly laughed. She knew exactly what Lori and Maurice were up to, but she didn’t mind. Lori had been very good at not insulting Mr. Statham for the months leading up to the trip, and Shelly was willing to let Maurice spirit her away on a tour that would undoubtedly last the entirety of the movie.
“I have a grocer list, Maurice,” Lilliette said, turning to paw through a small escritoire that was covered in scraps of paper. “You could get the things while you are out.” She triumphantly held up the list and waved it under his nose.
“You have many lists, darling, and we will do the shopping, so that the two of you can enjoy the film in peace, adoring your handsome men without our interference.”
Lilliette giggled. “But you see, this is why I married him,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. He is a sainte!”
“Now the only decision left is when to dine. Would you like to watch the film now, or after we eat?”
“I’d like to take some pictures, if you wouldn’t mind a few unscheduled stops, Maurice. The light is so beautiful right now,” said Lori. “Then we could just relax after dinner, and spend some time catching up. You can let us know what you have planned for tomorrow, and we can get our clothes ready.”
“Bon oui!” Lilliette exclaimed. “That is what we shall do. The village is very picturesque, and you should find much to photograph.”
Maurice divided the rest of the martinis among them and raised his glass for a toast. “To a wonderful journey and exploration. I hope you come to adore our country, and become a bit French before you leave.” He smiled mischievously.
Lori hoped Shelly would meet a hot French guy that would erase all thoughts of Jason from her head. Considering Shelly’s obsession with the growly, grim Brit it was more than likely that any man she did meet would have to look at least a little like him. She wasn’t thrilled with the idea that she might have to spend the rest of her life hanging out with Jason Redux, but a live man was still much better than the imaginary friendship Shelly had conjured. A whirlwind European romance could be just the kick Shelly needed. Lori resolved to point out any French dudes that even slightly resembled Jason-The-Unshaven.
Shelly hoped that Lori would continue to be gracious. When Lilliette planned their tours she had gone heavy on places that Mr. Statham had been while filming. Maurice inviting Lori to see the village was brilliant. Shelly resolved not to tax Lori’s patience, and to keep the references to Mr. Statham a bare minimum.

Shelly and Lori spent the next week in a swirling vortex of ancient buildings and towns, decadent food and wine, ridiculously scenic landscapes, and curvy, twisty roads that challenged their equilibrium. They returned footsore and tired in the evenings, spent an hour reviving their flagging energies floating in the pool or napping on a lounge chair, ate Maurice’s delicious dinners, and managed to send a few hurried emails back home before falling into their beds.
The days passed swiftly and all too soon Shelly, Lori, and all their belongings were being whisked along the drive to Aix-en-Provence. Instead of trying to drag the souvenirs they had purchased onto the plane at the end of the trip, they stopped at another attractive village with another ancient spired church, narrow streets, and chunky stone buildings to mail their treasures to America. Lori was frustrated that she couldn’t ship as many bottles of local wines as she would like, and Shelly was relieved that there was now a good deal more room in the tiny car. They ate lunch at a small bistro that served sandwiches, and indulged in a bottle of red wine produced by the owner in a vineyard that ran up to the back of the building.
“We hope you do not think you are abandoned,” Lilliette stated. “The apartment in Aix is very small, and it would be difficult for all of us to be comfortable.”
“No, no, we’ll be fine,” Lori and Shelly chorused.
“I want to see if we can handle being on our own,” said Shelly. “Our language skills are still not good, but it will be an adventure to try getting around and shopping without bothering you to translate everything for us.”
“You have had a week of reading menus, so I do not fear that you should starve,” Maurice said, smiling. “And Lori has shown a remarkable talent for handling money when you shop, and that will deter the more unscrupulous store clerks.”
“She is gifted that way,” Shelly replied.
Lori grinned and shrugged. “It’s one of my more useful traits.” She tried, and failed, to look humble.
The rest of the trip to Aix took only an hour, and soon they were unstrapping the luggage from the roof of the car and carrying it up the steep stairs to a tiny flat that overlooked the cobblestone street below. Lilliette fussed about, straightening pillows, and opening cupboards to check for supplies. She pointed out the bathroom and the coffee press, hardly necessary since they could see every corner of the apartment from the minuscule living room. Maurice then suggested that they climb up to the roof and see the view.
They exited onto a flat roof decorated with a table and three chairs. Lining the edges were pots of carefully tended herbs and flowers, and a few strings of white lights hanging between hastily erected poles. Maurice showed them how to plug in the lights in case they decided to come up after dark.
“Look Shell-face. It’s the Rue Jason,” Lori said, peering over the lip of the roof. “If you go down and lie in the street I’ll take your picture. You could pretend he’s just around the corner revving his engine.”
“I think that I will simply stand in the street, thanks anyway. But I would appreciate a photo of me doing it.”
Lilliette smiled. “I have a list!” Maurice smiled indulgently. “All of the places in the movie that were filmed in Aix. You could visit them and have a photograph.”
“I am sure we will be doing exactly that. There’s no way out of it,” Lori snarked.
Maurice put his arm around Shelly’s shoulder. “Then we will leave you to your fate. Come, my dear, let us give them some time alone. We will be back in a few days to collect you, then on to the city. You have the telephone numbers if you need us, but there is no computer. Perhaps Jorge will not miss you so much, Shelly.”
“I thought I would be worrying the whole time about the inn, but it hasn’t happened. It’s a relief to have him there. I’m sure he’s doing fine without me.”
They walked the Charbonneaus to their car, said adieu, and climbed the stairs to the flat.
After unpacking, they each stood at a tiny window looking out at the building across the street, watching the inhabitants go about their lives through their open curtains. A cat sitting on a windowsill stared resolutely back.
Lori turned to Shelly. “Now what?” she asked.

Lori was ready to revisit that query as they sat in the plaza munching pastry and drinking coffee. She experimented with several approaches and discarded them. Finally, she decided to go with blunt and direct.
“So, Shell-face. What now?”
Shelly had also been thinking about that. She wasn’t sure that Lori was going to like what she was about to say, and fervently hoped it wouldn’t ruin the rest of the trip.
“I want to do some new things,” she said boldly. “With Jorge running the inn, it has freed up some time and there are avenues I am going to pursue. The screenplay was actually fun to write, and there is a course over at Bowie State that teaches techniques, and I’m going to sign up for next semester. And I saw an ad for fencing classes that looked interesting. I can’t believe how wonderful this trip turned out, and I want to do more of it. Maybe England next.” She stopped to take a deep breath.
Lori stared at Shelly with raised brows, the croissant she was holding paused halfway to her mouth.
Shelly hurried on, “I realize it was foolish to try to sneak my script into Steve’s office, and it obviously didn’t work, because I have not heard anything from California. I almost got all of us in trouble and I’m so very sorry. And you’ve been so patient about Mr. Statham this whole trip. You haven’t given me a hard time once. Thank you for that.”
Lori put down her pastry, steepled her hands, and cleared her throat.
“That’s all good, Shell. But what I really wanted to know was if you’d rather go to the bastide first or the winery, and where you were thinking of having lunch.”
“Oh.” Shelly blushed, and giggled. “I thought you were talking about when we get home.”
“Since you brought him up…what are your plans for Wonderboy Statham? I thought you might have gotten him out of your system by now.”
Shelly thought for a moment. “I do like his movies, so I’ll keep watching them. And if there is ever a premiere in Washington, I might go stand in the crowd and try to get a picture. Other than that….”
“Good for you. Stay out of trouble, fly below the radar. No stalking. Are you going to miss him?”
Shelly smiled. “I never really had him though, did I? Nothing to miss.”
As Lori returned to her uneaten croissant, Shelly considered her life a year ago. It hadn’t been an earthquake or near-fatal accident that had made her reevaluate her direction. A simple act, Mr. Statham removing his shirt, had eventually led to discovering that she had the ability to astonish everyone around her, including herself. She thought about all the times she had made excuses to not try something instead of crushing that little voice in her own head telling her she was being silly. Now, nothing seemed too far-fetched, or ridiculous. She might jump out of an airplane, or hike the Appalachian Trail. And as for Mr. Statham? There was even a new way of seeing that possibility. Shelly smiled.

She just hadn’t met him. Yet.

The End, maybe….