“That’s my plan, but I’m not sure they’re even still around. My great-grandmamma didn’t really stay in touch with them. In fact, I sometimes got the feeling she left under unhappy circumstances.”
“Maybe her family resented her marrying an American. Some French don’t care for us.”
“I don’t know. But I’m curious to find out more.” She told him a bit about the mysterious letter and treasure. “I seriously doubt that any such treasure still exists, but I feel like I’m doing this for my namesake.”
“Interesting . . . and fun too.”
Weary of talking about herself, she smiled at him. “So what takes you to Paris? Well, besides this plane?”
“You must be feeling better—you have a sense of humor.” He grinned. “I’m not going only to Paris. Although I do plan to spend some time there and see how it looks at Christmastime. I also have other places to see and go to as well. It’s kind of a long story.”
She leaned back, watching him with interest. “We’ve got lots of time.”
He chuckled. “That’s true. Where do I begin?”
“At the beginning?”
He told her about growing up in Seattle and about this older neighbor named Claude Aron who had come to the States from France. “Claude was sort of like a grandpa to me. He actually taught me my first French words and helped me to become somewhat fluent. He’s the one who told me I needed to go to Paris as a young man. The reason I took that trip back in college.”
“I had dreamed of traveling to Europe after high school,” Simone said, “but then my grandpa died . . . plans had to change.”
As the plane traveled steadily, they continued to learn more about each other. Kyle told her about how his dad had passed away too. “It was just last summer. That’s part of why I’m taking this trip. My dad’s parents immigrated from Norway before he was born. During the Great Depression. My dad always dreamed of going to Norway after he retired, but then he got cancer . . . and never got the chance.”
“Now it’s my turn to say I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Yeah. It all seemed to happen so fast. Anyway, my mom decided that since I was planning to go to France anyway, I should just bring Dad’s ashes with me. She thought they should be scattered in a fjord near his ancestors’ hometown. Sort of like he finally made it.” Kyle looked sad.
She considered this. “I’ll bet your dad would be happy to think that you’ll get to see Norway.”
“Yeah.” He brightened. “And I always wanted to see Norway. Although I’d have rather gone with Dad. Anyway, I’ll spend a few days there . . . and then I’ll head down to France and Switzerland.”
“And what will you do in France and Switzerland?”
“Well, would you believe that I’m a clockmaker?” He grinned.
“Seriously? Is that a real career? It sounds like something from a previous century.”
“It’s real—but rare.” His mouth twisted to one side. “To be accurate, I’m really more of an apprentice clockmaker. And that might be a stretch to claim that.”
“A person can really make a living at clockmaking?”
“It depends on how you define ‘a living.’ I suppose if you’re a really excellent clockmaker and you don’t live too extravagantly.” He rubbed his chin. “Fortunately, I’m not too concerned about finances. A friend and I started a software games company back in college. No complaints . . . it’s done okay. But even while designing games and software, I still loved to work on clocks in my spare time. Either building new ones or fixing old ones. I used to joke that clocks helped me unwind.”
She chuckled. “I sort of get that.”
“Anyway, after all that time in the tech world, I was ripe for change. I guess my dad’s death last summer sort of prompted the whole thing. It hit me hard to see his life end before he got to attack his bucket list. So I sold off my half of the company—”
“To become a clockmaker?” She smiled with interest.
“Yep. But it didn’t take long to figure out there’s a whole lot I don’t know about clockmaking.”
“So how does one learn about clockmaking? Is there a special school? How did you learn about it in the first place?”
“Remember my elderly neighbor—Claude Aron? Well, he’s the one who got me interested in clocks. He’d been a clockmaker in France. Actually, he worked at a watch factory but made clocks on the side. He was Jewish, and when Hitler rose into power, he and his family fled to America. Anyway, Claude was about eighty when he and I became friends, and he taught me everything I know about clocks and watches.” Kyle held out his right arm, pushing up his sleeve to reveal a classically styled watch. “He gave this to me for my eighth-grade graduation. Not long before he passed away.”
She peered down at the watch. “Is it a Rolex?”
He slowly nodded. “Yeah. Made in Geneva, Switzerland. Not too far from where Claude’s family came from. He got it in the 1930s.”
“It must be valuable.”
“Valuable to me. And, yeah, it’s worth a lot to collectors too. Not that I’m parting with it.” He smoothed his thumb over the watch face. “It’s my treasure.”
She nodded, suddenly remembering her treasure and how it was the motivation for this trip. But really, she felt fairly certain this was a wild-goose chase. A wild-goose chase that was transporting her across the Atlantic Ocean . . . and strangely enough she no longer felt terribly concerned. Mostly she felt sleepy.
When Simone woke up, it was dark outside. Perhaps that was good. She lowered the window shade and silently repeated her mantra. I am safe, I am fine.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty is awake,” Kyle said.
She couldn’t help but smile. “That was a nice nap. What time is it?”
“Paris time?”
She shrugged. “I guess.”
“I already reset my watch.” He checked his Rolex. “It’s 4:47 a.m. in Paris.”
“And we’re supposed to arrive a little before one.” She tried to compute the numbers, frowning to think she still had seven hours of flying time. “I wonder what time it is in LA? I guess I should check my phone.”
“I usually try to forget home time when traveling. Helps ward off jet lag.” His brow creased as if doing the math. “But it would be 7:47 p.m. on the West Coast.”
“Wow, that late. I must’ve been asleep for a while.”
He nodded. “You did have a nice nap.”
“Hopefully I didn’t snore.”
He chuckled. “No, but you chattered away in your sleep—revealed all kinds of deep dark secrets.”
She sat up straight. “Seriously?”
“Kidding.” He held up his hands. “Sorry.”
She felt relieved. Especially since she’d just woken from a pleasant dream—about Kyle! A dream she’d be embarrassed to have him privy to. “So if it’s nearly eight in LA, that would explain why I’m ravenous.”
“They served dinner while you were sleeping, but I thought you might be hungry. I asked them to save yours.” Kyle waved to the attendant, indicating that Simone was ready for her dinner.