floor, the one Rémi had handed Danny at the last minute. Danny reached for it, picked it up, and looked inside to see two wrapped sandwiches and three bottles of water, foggy with condensation. Smiling, Danny handed one to Mr. Bashiri.
“Here you go,” Danny said, closing the bag and setting it neatly on the floor next to him. “There’s more in there if you need it. Will there be anything else?”
Mr. Bashiri took a long sip of the water, wiped his mouth with a crisply folded cloth handkerchief, and then replied, “Not right now, thank you.”
The train slowly began to move. Leaving his bag on the floor, Danny excused himself to look for Luc. Fortunately, the confident Frenchman was just coming up the hallway, a wide grin on his face.
“Whew! We did it,” Luc said enthusiastically.
Reading the numbers on the doors, he stopped at the one just prior to Mr. Bashiri’s, said “Voici,” opened it, and tossed his luggage inside.
Then he brushed past Danny and stepped next door into Mr. Bashiri’s compartment, stepping over Danny’s suitcase and taking the other window seat, across from Mr. Bashiri. Danny was a bit startled at Luc’s aggressiveness, but he had come to learn that it was par for the course with him.
“ Eh bien, monsieur ,” Luc said, flipping through the papers in his hand. “I will just take a moment to tell you all you need to know. First of all, Danny and I are in the sleeper right next door. If you need anything, you can just knock on the wall. Comme ça .” To demonstrate, he tapped lightly on the wall beside the seat. “It’s too late for any meals tonight, but Rémi provided you with some sandwiches. Breakfast will show up between six and six thirty, and we’ll reach Zurich at seven twenty-four. We have asked the préposé to turn down your bed in about an hour.”
The train began to pick up speed, and Danny realized that he ought to put his own stuff away. As Luc continued to tell Mr. Bashiri about the arrangements in Zurich, Danny moved his duffel bag into the other room, taking out his camera first and then setting the bag safely on the floor of the closet. He still couldn’t believe he’d been given this opportunity.
Danny moved back to the doorway of Bashiri’s room and stood there for another moment, observing his conversing travel companions. According to what Rémi had told him back at the office, though most successful photographers worked alone, Mr. Bashiri no longer did. With his advancing age and a bad back, he couldn’t handle the weight of his equipment, and he didn’t like the logistics of preparing an itinerary or driving in unfamiliar locations once he got there. Being semiretired, Mr. Bashiri could pick and choose his work more carefully these days, and one of his stipulations was that whatever magazine hired him for a job must provide what he called a “liaison”—but was actually just someone to do the footwork, the gruntwork, and the navigating.
Of course, Mr. Bashiri’s loss was Danny’s gain, as he had never expected to work so closely with such an icon in his field. Pushing down an anxious surge of nervousness and excitement, Danny said a prayer of thanks for the opportunity, asking God to help him do a good job and to be with them all on their journey.
Bradford held Jo’s arm as they made their way through the train station.
“Start talking,” Jo said softly, still feeling doubtful but also strangely nervous. “Tell me everything that has happened and everything you know.”
He put an arm around her, pulled her close, and placed his cheek against her hair as they walked, so that his lips were near her ear. She didn’t like his proximity—or familiarity—but right now she didn’t see that she had much choice in the matter.
“It all started with a Jaguar,” he said softly. “A little more than a year ago, your dad invited me to the company house out in the Hamptons for a weekend. I was thrilled to go and glad to have a quiet time of
“Here you go,” Danny said, closing the bag and setting it neatly on the floor next to him. “There’s more in there if you need it. Will there be anything else?”
Mr. Bashiri took a long sip of the water, wiped his mouth with a crisply folded cloth handkerchief, and then replied, “Not right now, thank you.”
The train slowly began to move. Leaving his bag on the floor, Danny excused himself to look for Luc. Fortunately, the confident Frenchman was just coming up the hallway, a wide grin on his face.
“Whew! We did it,” Luc said enthusiastically.
Reading the numbers on the doors, he stopped at the one just prior to Mr. Bashiri’s, said “Voici,” opened it, and tossed his luggage inside.
Then he brushed past Danny and stepped next door into Mr. Bashiri’s compartment, stepping over Danny’s suitcase and taking the other window seat, across from Mr. Bashiri. Danny was a bit startled at Luc’s aggressiveness, but he had come to learn that it was par for the course with him.
“ Eh bien, monsieur ,” Luc said, flipping through the papers in his hand. “I will just take a moment to tell you all you need to know. First of all, Danny and I are in the sleeper right next door. If you need anything, you can just knock on the wall. Comme ça .” To demonstrate, he tapped lightly on the wall beside the seat. “It’s too late for any meals tonight, but Rémi provided you with some sandwiches. Breakfast will show up between six and six thirty, and we’ll reach Zurich at seven twenty-four. We have asked the préposé to turn down your bed in about an hour.”
The train began to pick up speed, and Danny realized that he ought to put his own stuff away. As Luc continued to tell Mr. Bashiri about the arrangements in Zurich, Danny moved his duffel bag into the other room, taking out his camera first and then setting the bag safely on the floor of the closet. He still couldn’t believe he’d been given this opportunity.
Danny moved back to the doorway of Bashiri’s room and stood there for another moment, observing his conversing travel companions. According to what Rémi had told him back at the office, though most successful photographers worked alone, Mr. Bashiri no longer did. With his advancing age and a bad back, he couldn’t handle the weight of his equipment, and he didn’t like the logistics of preparing an itinerary or driving in unfamiliar locations once he got there. Being semiretired, Mr. Bashiri could pick and choose his work more carefully these days, and one of his stipulations was that whatever magazine hired him for a job must provide what he called a “liaison”—but was actually just someone to do the footwork, the gruntwork, and the navigating.
Of course, Mr. Bashiri’s loss was Danny’s gain, as he had never expected to work so closely with such an icon in his field. Pushing down an anxious surge of nervousness and excitement, Danny said a prayer of thanks for the opportunity, asking God to help him do a good job and to be with them all on their journey.
Bradford held Jo’s arm as they made their way through the train station.
“Start talking,” Jo said softly, still feeling doubtful but also strangely nervous. “Tell me everything that has happened and everything you know.”
He put an arm around her, pulled her close, and placed his cheek against her hair as they walked, so that his lips were near her ear. She didn’t like his proximity—or familiarity—but right now she didn’t see that she had much choice in the matter.
“It all started with a Jaguar,” he said softly. “A little more than a year ago, your dad invited me to the company house out in the Hamptons for a weekend. I was thrilled to go and glad to have a quiet time of
Similar Books
