Jeanine arrived at the Revaux residence, her temporary home. She suspected her host sibling had been at the computer. She could imagine Stephanie untwisting her lanky frame from her seat. Then, there was no chance of visualization imaging necessary. Stephanie jettisoned down the marble tiled stairs in a hurry. She stopped a few steps from full decent seeing Jeanine in foriere.

Stephanie’s absentminded reminder, “You forgot your slippers,” when she noticed Jeanine’s sneaker clad feet as she approached the sand colored, tile stairwell. Switching gears, Stephanie’s grey eyes darkened with curiosity and excitement. She asked, “Who is Luke Summers?” and leaped the last few steps to the bottom of the stairs. She studied her long-time friend while leaning casually with her back against the front door. “All I found were a couple of social website pages that said he is single.”

Jeanine sat immediately to remove the shoes before they caused any damage to the floor. She’d anticipated the inquiry and was ready with her answer, “Luke Summers. Age 28. Probably 6 feet-ish. Broad shoulders and legs like tree trunks. Landscape architect. Middle child. Loves mum, siblings, & grandmother. Really, really likes rocks, trees, and stone buildings. He’s visiting Paris with 5 friends; Wynnona, Wyck, Judd, Angel, and Marcus.”

The two young women went into the kitchen, the opening to the right of the stairs if one were coming down them. The impending, “but” hovered in the air as Stephanie poured them a couple cups of Jeanine’s sun brewed, sweetened, iced tea. Sunlight streamed in the windows on the three sides of the room. The plants hanging in the windows or sitting on the counter in places added a texture of warmth to the room that mere paint couldn’t have accomplished.

“But…” Stephanie prompted as she sat down across from Jeanine her back to the entryway.

“It’s actually an “and.” His friend needs a date for a formal something or other tonight at the Grand Rex.” Jeanine tried to set her face in an expression expecting an answer without pressuring her friend to say, “yes.” She stilled as much as she could in order to give the young woman a moment to think.

Stephanie froze. Her anxiety dimmed her inner light and gained power in her eyes. Her mild case of agoraphobia, when it manifested, wasn’t paralyzing, but distressful none the less. She covered her struggle by picking up the tea cup and saucer for a sip. “Formal? Not a rave or a club?” She confirmed rather than asked really.

Jeanine did her best to stay quiet. Emotional blackmail however unintended was ugly and Jeanine wouldn’t be party to it. She’d go regardless but would still need Stephanie’s help in finding clothing. But she’d really like to share something unconventional for a vacation with her best friend. So, she’d stay quiet and let Stephanie decide if it was something she wanted to try to do.

They’d had many conversations about Stephanie’s aversion to well populated events or high-pressure interactions. She’d chosen a career in freelance translation to limit her interactions. She took care of her parents which kept her centered in her familiar home town among a lifetime of neighbors and friends. She knew almost everyone in her small town. But Stephanie knew there was much more to life. Some of their conversations covered Stephanie’s pressure on herself to explore more. If she was going to reset her brain, she’d told Jeanine, she had to get there herself.

“I bet we could get a dress your size from Dory.” With her decision made, Stephanie rounded the circular table and approached the phone on the wall with the grace acquired through controlled action. “And I think I could get us a couple of hair appointments with Sophie on the corner.”

At the word “us,” Jeanine almost tackled her friend with her effusive hug.

Stephanie relaxed into the odd moment of standing with a phone in her hand and her 5’10” frame getting hugged tightly by someone at least a head shorter. Jeanine came up to her shoulder.

“Yeah.” Jeanine’s muted squeal still filled the confines of the sunny kitchen.

Stephanie tolerated it but couldn’t resist plugging, “that picture you sent me,” she hedged.

Jeanine stepped back sending her friend a questioning look.

“He was thinking some very naughty thoughts just when you took it.”

Jeanine’s blush erupted. It could’ve been from either emotion; embarrassment or pleasure.