Capturing Paris Read Online Free Page B

university system to enroll them in classes, and then arranging for the transfer of credits to the American schools. She knew it must sound tedious.
    â€œFor students doing a gap year?” Daphne asked.
    â€œIt’s really more of a junior-year-abroad program because the students are still working for their degree.” While Annie explained the popularity of studying abroad, she became aware of Daphne’s eyes. They were the same color as her dress, chameleon-like, capable of soaking up the color of their surroundings. Annie was conscious of the sound of her own voice—she sounded like she was quoting directly from the Liberal Arts Abroad brochure. “But tell me, what keeps you busy here in France?” Annie asked.
    â€œI’m in the antiques business. I also buy art for clients, now and then, which is how I met the Verniers.”
    â€œYes, Georges told us.” Wesley looked at his friend, who was pouring out the final drops from a second bottle of champagne. “My sister in Connecticut sells antiques. Mostly primitive and American of course.” Wesley seemed glad to have this connection with Daphne. “We’ve bought some patchwork quilts from her over the years.”
    â€œI’d love to learn more about quilts. Would your sister ever consider selling in France?”
    Wesley, recently so silent at home, talked easily about his older sister and her business. Besides Sophie, Madeleine was their only family back in the States. Following her divorce years ago, she threw herself into her thriving business at her country home. She sold simple pine furniture, sturdy crockery, and kitchen implements, the kind of antiques that once had been the everyday necessities of hardworkingfarm families in New England. Annie imagined Daphne’s antiques to be of a more sumptuous sort, objects whose only purpose was to be beautiful.
    â€œA table, mes amis !” Céleste called them to the table.
    Céleste served a clear soup from an antique Limoges terrine. Steam rose before her face as she lowered the silver ladle into the fragrant broth and told Daphne about the woes of her daughter, who was having trouble finding work in London.
    â€œI haven’t lived in London for quite a while, so I’m afraid that any contacts I might have wouldn’t do much good,” Daphne said. “My brother has moved out to Devon, so he’s not much help either.” She turned to Georges. “Tell me about this wonderful red wine.”
    â€œIt’s a Burgundy,” he said. “My brother brought me a case. One of his better finds in my opinion.” Georges, like most Frenchmen, took charge of the wine at all of their parties. Wesley had assumed the same role when they moved to Paris. Annie had never minded.
    â€œIt’s lovely,” Daphne said, taking another sip.
    Bill complimented Céleste on the soup. Annie knew how time-consuming it was to prepare such an intensely flavored broth. She’d learned everything she knew about cooking from Céleste. They’d spent many afternoons talking about recipes when they were young brides in America. Annie knew that Céleste relished her life as wife and homemaker now as much as she did then. Even though their children were grown, nothing ever seemed to change in Céleste and Georges’s life. Shopping in the open-air markets, finding the best purveyors of cheese, visiting relatives in the country most weekends—their lives seemed to hum along in a predictable pattern.
    â€œHow’s Jean-Marc?” Bill inquired after the Verniers’ son, who was studying at the University of Toulouse. “I wondered if he’s ever met Professor Thibault. He’s been on the faculty at Toulouse for several years, I believe.”
    Annie was soon drawn into a discussion with Bill and Céleste on the University of Toulouse and the relative merits of studying outside of Paris. She wished she were talking to Daphne