Chasing Cassandra
“I’m hungry,” Basil said sadly.
Tom grinned and ruffled his hair. “You’re always hungry. Fortunately, we’re about to have a nice, long afternoon tea with all the pastries you want.”
“That’s the surprise?” Basil asked. “But we have tea every day.”
“Not on a yacht. And not with this person.” Tom picked up Cassandra’s tapestry bag, latched it firmly closed, and offered his arm to her.
“Who is it?” she asked, amused by the lively excitement in his eyes.
“Come find out.”
They proceeded down one of the docks, to a modest but well-kept yacht. A fine old gentleman with a nicely trimmed beard and a shock of silvery hair awaited them.
“No,” Cassandra said with a wondering laugh, recognizing the face from photographs and engravings. “Is that really …”
“Monsieur Verne,” Tom said easily, “here are my wife and son. Lady Cassandra and Basil.”
“Enchanté,” Jules Verne murmured, his eyes twinkling as he bowed over Cassandra’s hand.
“I told Monsieur Verne,” Tom said, enjoying Cassandra’s dazed expression, “that you gave me the first novel I ever read, Around the World in Eighty Days, and for personal reasons, it remains my favorite.”
“But what about—” Basil began, and Tom gently placed his hand over the boy’s mouth.
“Madame,” Jules Verne said in French, “how delighted I am to host you for tea on the Saint Michel! I hope you have a sweet tooth, as I do?”
“I certainly do,” she answered in kind, “and so does my son.”
“Ah, wonderful, come with me, then. If you have questions about my novels, I would be most pleased to answer them.”
“I’ve always longed to find out how you came up with the idea for Around the World in Eighty Days.”
“Well, you see, I was reading an American travel brochure …”
Just before they boarded the yacht, Cassandra glanced at Tom and reached up to a delicate necklace she’d worn constantly since the day he’d given it to her. She touched the little charm, made in the shape of Euler’s infinity symbol, that hung at the hollow of her throat.
And as always, the private signal made him smile.