They had reached Gate 37. Two men behind the ticket counter were processing the tickets of emplaning passengers. A sign on the information board read: "Flight 147 to Paris--Departing 1:00 P.M."
Larry walked up to one of the men behind the desk. "Here she is, Tony." He handed the man a plane ticket. "Cathy, this is Tony Lombardi. This is Catherine."
"I've sure heard a lot about you," the man grinned. "Your ticket's all in order." He handed the ticket to Catherine.
Catherine stared at it, dazed. "What's this for?"
"I lied to you," Larry smiled. "I'm not taking you to lunch. I'm taking you to Paris. Maxim's."
Catherine's voice broke. "M--Maxim's? In Paris? Now?"
"That's right."
"I can't," Catherine wailed. "I can't go to Paris now."
"Sure you can," he grinned. "I've got your passport in my pocket."
"Larry," she said, "you're mad! I have no clothes. I have a million appointments. I--"
"I'll buy you some clothes in Paris. Cancel your appointments. Fraser can get along without you for a few days."
Catherine stared at him, not knowing what to say. She remembered the resolutions she had made to herself. Larry was her husband. He had to come first. Catherine realized that it wasn't just taking her to Paris that was important to Larry. He was showing off for her, asking her to fly in the plane he was navigating. And she had almost spoiled it. She put her hand in his and smiled up at him.
"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 Elysees 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 parad
e on the Champs Elysees. 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 Elysees. Anything else?"