“I think we should find out. Tu veux aller à Paris avec moi?”
Would you like to go to Paris with me? I knew that’s what Jonah had been trying to say. But Jonah had never learned French in school and didn’t know the accent, so it sounded more like Two-vex-allery-Paris-ovek-mwa.
I swallowed my profiterole and said, “I would love to go to Paris with you.”
Jonah’s shoulders dropped several inches and he sighed. “Thank god. Because the tickets I bought are non-refundable.”
I smiled to myself as I let the memory of our trip wash over me. Jonah made sure this time I got to see the Palace of Versailles. He had the hotel concierge mark the route to the train station on our map, then write down exactly which train we were supposed to take and the time schedule. We visited the Palace of Versailles on our first full day in Paris, even before we visited the Eiffel Tower.
Jonah proposed to me on the patio overlooking the palace’s gardens. When he dropped down on one knee with a blue velvet box and I said yes, all the other visitors clapped, even the ones who didn’t speak English.
“Tu me manques, mon amour,” I whispered to the photocopy of Jonah’s passport, then I kissed the grainy black and white image of his face. After I wiped my eyes, I placed all the documents back in the box. Then I reached into the zippered compartment of my purse for the flash drive and placed it on top. I closed the lid on the metal box and stood up to leave when I had an idea.
Chapter 21
I sat down and pulled my laptop out of my briefcase. I plugged the flash drive into the USB port and typed Tu veux aller à Paris avec moi? into the password bar and pressed enter. Of course, it didn’t work. I retyped it without any spaces or accent marks. The same error message I’d received thousands of times before popped up on the screen. I tried again in English. Also incorrect. I was about to give up when it occurred to me Jonah would’ve used an online translator. I knew from experience those translations were often different than the way they teach you to speak the language in school.
There was no wi-fi signal in the windowless room, but I still had cell service on my phone. I typed Would you like to go to Paris with me? into an English-to-French translator and, as I suspected, the translation it spit out was slightly different than what I’d tried. I typed the new translation, minus the spaces and accent marks, into the password box and tapped the enter key.
To my complete and utter amazement, the drive unlocked.
Chapter 22
The flash drive contained only one file—a spreadsheet. I clicked on the file and stared at the columns of numbers and letters with no names and no discernible pattern.
Account numbers? Maybe. But if so, wouldn’t there be names attached to them? And what bank issued alpha-numeric account numbers fifty characters long? Plus, the letters and numbers were so random they seemed more like really long computer-generated passwords. But passwords to what?
I had no idea what any of this information was and, more importantly, what I was supposed to do with it. But I was meeting with a new client on the other side of town in half an hour and I didn’t have time to figure it out now. I saved the file to my laptop, dropped the flash drive into the safe deposit box, and left the bank.
My meeting ran long, and I barely arrived at the courthouse in time for my court appearance, then I had to rush back to the office to finish drafting a status report that needed to be filed with the court by the end of the day. By the time I returned Daniel’s call, the sun was low on the horizon.
“Hey, babe,” he answered. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Oh? What were you thinking?” I was thinking I could really use one of his amazing scalp massages.
“That I didn’t know what wine to bring because I didn’t know what you were cooking.”
Damnit. I’d forgotten I’d offered to cook dinner tonight. “About that—”
“Jesus, Grace, you’re not cancelling on me again?”
Merely sleeping with me wasn’t good enough anymore, Daniel had to sleep with me in my bed. This had become a quest for him, like completing a triathlon, which he was training for too. “Calm down. I’m not cancelling. I just had a really busy day and don’t feel like cooking. I was calling to ask what kind of takeout you wanted.”
“Oh. Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to yell at you.”
“It’s okay.”
No, it’s not, I chastised myself. You’ve been dating the man for a month, and he’s already yelled at you multiple times.
You and Jonah fought sometimes too. Your marriage wasn’t perfect.
Jonah wasn’t controlling.
Daniel’s not controlling.
Oh no? Then why does he keep haranguing you about your supposedly weird relationship with Tim and Richard?
He’s just jealous.
Why would he be jealous of your friendship with two gay men? There’s something wrong with him. This isn’t normal.
“Hello, hello. Are you there?” Daniel asked, forcing me to focus on his words instead of my own thoughts.
“Sorry, my phone cut out. What did you say?”
“I said I’d pick up dinner on the way to your house. Just tell me what time to be there.”
Daniel arrived at eight o’clock with kabob platters from the Greek restaurant and a bottle of Chardonnay. He kissed me hello then said, “You’re all I’ve thought about today. I can’t wait to get you upstairs.”
I knew I should be flattered, but all I felt was stressed.
Maybe you’re not ready for a relationship.
Maybe you should drink some wine and think about how great that scalp massage is going to feel.
I took my own advice. I drank a glass of the buttery Chardonnay and tried to focus my thoughts on the extremely enjoyable aspects of our relationship. But my mind kept wandering to Jonah’s spreadsheet and what all those letters and numbers could possibly mean. I managed to pay attention to Daniel when he told me a story about one of his students who was struggling with algebra. Then I told him about my new client, a fifteen-year-old boy whose parents were using him as a pawn in their divorce.
We finished eating and I loaded our dirty plates and silverware into the dishwasher. Then we took our glasses and the remaining half bottle of wine into the living room. That’s when I told Daniel I’d finally guessed the password to Jonah’s flash drive.
