Kate Finney Donovan fumbled with the fistful of euros then finally handed them all to the impossibly good-looking bellman waiting expectantly by the door. “Merci beaucoup.” He bowed and said either, “May I be the father of your children?” or “Lady, you’d better take a crash course in the exchange rate,” then closed the door behind him. She laughed for the first time in eighteen hours of traffic jams, airport security checks, turbulence, and just plain mother-of-the-bride jitters. Clearly it was a testament to the Parisians that she had made it from the airport to the hotel without incident and with most of her money still in her wallet. She had relied on the kindness of English-speaking cab drivers and her memory of high-school French to keep her from going too far astray and neither had let her down. Although, judging by the bellman’s reaction to the tip she had given him, maybe she had better reread the section on currency in Paris for Tourists before bed. She was staying in the apartment her great-aunt Celeste Beaulieu kept at the Hotel St.
What do You think about We'll Always Have Paris (2007)?
