Tell Me Your Dreams

And it was.

During luncheon, they filled each other in on their pasts.

“So. You’ve never been married?” Toni asked.

“No. And you?”

“No.”

“You have not found the right man.”

Oh, God, wouldn’t it be wonderful if it were that simple. “No.”

They talked of Quebec City and what there was to do there.

“Do you ski?”

Toni nodded. “I love it.”

“Ah, bon, moi aussi. And there is snowmobiling, ice-skating, wonderful shopping …”

There was something almost boyish about his enthusiasm. Toni had never felt more comfortable with anyone.

Shane Miller arranged it so his group attended the convention mornings and had their afternoons free.

“I don’t know what to do here,” Alette complained to Toni. “It’s freezing. What are you going to do?”

“Everything.” Toni grinned.

“A più tardi.”

Toni and Jean Claude had lunch together every day, and every afternoon, Jean Claude took Toni on a tour. She had never seen any place like Quebec City. It was like finding a turn-of-the-century picturesque French village in North America. The ancient streets had colorful names like Break Neck Stairs and Below the Fort and Sailor’s Leap. It was a Currier & Ives city, framed in snow.

They visited La Citadelle, with its walls protecting Old Quebec, and they watched the traditional changing of the guard inside the walls of the fort. They explored the shopping streets, Saint Jean, Cartier, Côte de la Fabrique, and wandered through the Quartier Petit Champlain.

“This is the oldest commercial district in North America,” Jean Claude told her.

“It’s super.”

Everywhere they went, there were sparkling Christmas trees, nativity scenes and music for the enjoyment of the strollers.

Jean Claude took Toni snowmobiling in the countryside. As they raced down a narrow slope, he called out, “Are you having a good time?”

Toni sensed that it was not an idle question. She nodded and said softly, “I’m having a wonderful time.”

Alette spent her time at museums. She visited the Basilica of Notre-Dame and the Good Shepherd Chapel and the Augustine Museum, but she had no interest in anything else that Quebec City offered. There were dozens of gourmet restaurants, but when she was not dining at the hotel, she ate at Le Commensal, a vegetarian cafeteria.

From time to time, Alette thought about her artist friend, Richard Melton, in San Francisco, and wondered what he was doing and if he would remember her.