“What are we waiting for?” Catherine asked. “I’m starved!”
Paris was a whirlwind of fun. Larry had arranged to take a full week off, and it
seemed to Catherine that every hour of the day and night was crammed with things to do.
They stayed at a charming little hotel on the Left Bank.
Their first morning in Paris Larry took Catherine to a salon on the Champs Élysées
where he tried to buy out the entire store for her. She bought only the things she needed
and was shocked at how expensive everything was.
“You know your problem?” Larry said. “You worry too much about money. You’re
on your honeymoon.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. But she refused to buy an evening dress that she did not need.
When she tried to ask Larry where all the money was coming from, he did not want to
discuss it, but she finally insisted on knowing.
“I got an advance on my salary,” Larry told her. “What’s the big deal?”
And Catherine had not the heart to tell him. He was like a child about money,
generous and carefree, and that was part of his charm.
Just as it had been part of her father’s charm.
Larry took her on the visitor’s tour of Paris: to the Louvre, the Tuileries and Les
Invalides to see Napoleon’s Tomb. He took her to a colorful little restaurant near the
Sorbonne. They went to Les Halles, the storied marketplace of Paris, and watched the
fresh fruit and meat and vegetables brought in from the farms of France, and spent their
last Sunday afternoon at Versailles, and then had dinner in the breathtaking garden at the
Coq Hardi outside of Paris. It was a perfect second honeymoon.
Hal Sakowitz sat in his office looking over the weekly personnel reports. In front of
him was the report on Larry Douglas. Sakowitz was leaning back in his chair, studying it,
pulling thoughtfully at his lower lip. Finally he leaned forward and pressed an intercom
switch. “Send him in,” he said.
A moment later, Larry walked in, wearing his Pan-Am uniform and carrying his
flight bag. He flashed Sakowitz a smile. “Morning, Chief,” he said.
“Sit down.”
Larry slouched into a chair opposite the desk and lit a cigarette.
Sakowitz said, “I have a report here that last Monday in Paris you checked in for your
flight briefing forty-five minutes late.”
Larry’s expression changed. “I was caught in a parade on the Champs Élysées. The
plane took off on time. I didn’t know we were running a boy’s camp here.”
“We’re running an airline,” Sakowitz said, quietly. “And we’re running it by the
book.”
“OK,” Larry said angrily. “I’ll keep away from the Champs Élysées. Anything else?”