Her Billionaire, Her Wolf(23)
Later, there was a glass of champagne then a meal the flight attendant had named “Un Tournedos Rossini au foie gras et à la truffe.”
Sara was famished and the golden brown medallion of beef was so tender she could have cut it with her fork alone. It had been placed upon a delicately grilled slice of French baguette and drizzled in a rich, buttery red wine sauce. It was accompanied by a generous morsel of foie gras which made a perfect marriage with the slightly sweet wine reduction. Finely julienned truffle leant the whole an elegance that went far beyond any meal that Sara could remember.
Full bodied bordeaux wine followed the initial glass of champagne, once again, in French, the woman had named it, un Saint-Emilion grand cru, but whatever its name, the full bodied red was the meal’s crowning moment.
Fine pastry and more champagne followed, of which Sara could only manage a little, savoring the luscious cream slipped between two thin sheets of crust made up of what appeared to be hundreds of fine, buttery layers.
By the end, she had forgotten that she had dined alone. They had flown up over the clouds and into the night sky and before long, sleep came to claim Sara while the ocean rolled gently on in her dreams.
Someone was shaking her awake. No, not someone, her entire surroundings trembled and then Sara heard and felt the jet’s landing gear touch ground.
She stretched and looked out the window next to her seat. Darkness reigned outside, a few dim lights visible through what appeared to be a mist ridden night.
The flight attendant bustled by. Sara was about to question the woman one last time as to just where exactly they had landed, but the woman had made an art of acting as though Sara was not there.
She watched through the spotted window as the boarding stairs unfolded and the woman and two men climbed down. They were met by several others and Sara saw that they stood in a rough circle while red coals glowed around their darkened faces then dimmed again as they smoked.
After what seemed an eternity, the flight attendant made her way back in to the cabin.
“You will be leaving us now,” she said, her voice coldly professional, “A driver is waiting to take you to your destination.”
Sara had grown very tired of the woman’s treatment and snapped, “Of course he is. And, I don’t suppose he’ll have anything more to say than you.”
Without waiting to see the woman’s reaction, Sara got up and pushed past her. She climbed down the stairs to see that the smokers had disappeared with only a large car waiting in their place, its engine idling.
Sara sighed.
I’ve come this far.
No one came to open the door for her, so Sara simply let herself into the back of the car.
A man wearing black gloves slipped the car into gear, then said over his shoulder, “Bonsoir.”
More French, then. Ok, this is definitely starting to feel European around here.
“Ummm...english?” she asked.
“Sorry,” the man said, his accent thick, “Buh, I doan’ speak ahngleesh...désolé.”
Fine, Sara thought, no point in asking this guy where in the hell I’ve ended up.
Then, she did anyway.
The man hesitated, then replied, “C’est la France, Mademoiselle. Ici, on se trouve sur la côte atlantique, au Pays Basque.”
Sara’s French was very rusty. But, among the sounds that rolled like magic off the man’s tongue, she had picked out a few words.
France. Basque.
Maybe something that meant AtlanticEuropean coast....
Ok...so not in Kansas anymore, Toto.
“Installez vous. Nous en avons pour une bonne heure du route.” The man broke off then, apparently realizing that Sara’s French was worse than his english.
With nothing else to do, and no idea how long it would continue, Sara settled back and waited for the next thing.
The highway leading from the small airport quickly turned to simple two lane roads, then two lanes became more like one and a half as the car wound its way up and down the countryside.
The night hid most of it from Sara’s eyes, but at times she thought she could see the reflection of the moon far below her. She lowered her window for just a moment and the unmistakeable scent of salt air slipped into the car.
It took little imagination for her to decide that they were on a secondary road that followed the coast line somewhere in Basque country. Sara searched her memories and something hinted to her that this meant she was in southwest France.
She smiled a little ruefully as she thought, So much for Paris.
As it was, the farthest abroad she had ever gone was the Canadian side of the Niagara Falls when she was just a little girl. After that, she had only every voyaged in her thoughts while watching television shows of far off places, and sometimes, when she was very lucky, she chanced to dream while deeply asleep that she had set foot in a foreign land, somewhere mysterious and enchanting.