still open?”
“That would be wonderful,” Noelle replied.
“If I take you there, it will cost you ten francs.”
She frowned.
“It will be worth it,” he promised.
“All right.” She leaned back in the seat. The driver put the taxi in gear and joined the
maniacal traffic heading toward the center of town. The driver chattered as they drove, but
Noelle did not hear a word he said. She was drinking in the sights of her city. She
supposed that because of the blackout, Paris was more subdued than usual, but to Noelle it
seemed a city of pure magic. It had an elegance, a style, even an aroma all its own. They
passed Notre Dame and crossed the Pont Neuf to the Right Bank and swung toward
Marshall Foch Boulevard. In the distance Noelle could see the Eiffel Tower, dominating
the city. Through the rearview mirror, the driver saw the expression on her face.
“Nice, huh?”
“It’s beautiful,” Noelle answered quietly. She still could not believe she was here. It
was a Kingdom fit for a Princess…for her.
The taxi pulled up in front of a dark, gray stone building on the rue de Provence.
“We’re here,” the driver announced. “That’s two francs on the meter and ten francs
for me.”
“How do I know the job will still be open?” Noelle asked.
The driver shrugged. “I told you, the girl just left this morning. If you don’t want to
go in, I’ll take you back to the station.”
“No,” Noelle said quickly. She opened her purse, took out twelve francs and handed
them to the driver. He stared at the money, then looked at her. Embarrassed, she reached
into her purse and handed him another franc.
He nodded, unsmiling, and watched her lift her suitcase out of the taxi.
As he started to drive away, Noelle asked, “What’s your sister’s name?”
“Jeanette.”
Noelle stood on the curb watching the taxi disappear, then turned to look at the
building. There was no identifying sign in front, but she supposed that a fashionable dress
house did not need a sign. Everyone would know where to find it. She picked up her
suitcase, went up to the door and rang the bell. A few moments later the door was opened
by a maid wearing a black apron. She looked at Noelle blankly.
“Yes?”
“Excuse me,” Noelle said. “I understand that there is an opening for a model.”
The woman stared at her and blinked.