Carolyn Jourdan - Nurse Phoebe 03 - The School for Psychics by Carolyn Jourdan Read Free Book Online Page B

destination.”
    Being driven by a local guy would be a lot nicer than lugging their luggage through the airport, a train station, and to a car rental place. Phoebe mumbled a wobbly self-conscious, “ Merci beaucoup .” Then she added, “I’m sure this gentleman’s car will be a lot more pleasant.”
    “It’s not a car,” J.J. said. “ It’s a squirrel.”
    Phoebe looked at him with a puzzled expression, but of course he couldn’t see it. So she said, “A squirrel ?”
    “ An Airbus Écureuil!”
    It took Phoebe several beats to decipher what J.J. had said. She recognized Airbus as an airplane manufacturer, but had no idea what an Écureuil was.
    “I t’s a helicopter,” he explained. “Quite a famous type.”
    “A flying squirrel?” She was picturing some mechanical version of Cinderella’s carriage made from a pumpkin, drawn by mice, and driven by a rat. She wondered what would happen if they were still in the air when their allotted time ran out. At least Cinderella had stayed on the ground.
    “Don’t be afraid,” J.J. said. “They’re the best. They’ve landed one of them on the summit of Mt. Everest!”
    Phoebe was afraid to ask how hard they’d hit the summit and whether they’d been able to successfully take off and get home safely.
    Apparently Mr. Brissac was able to follow the main points of their discussion because he smiled at her and nodded to confirm what J.J. had said. As soon as they cleared customs, their luggage was magically picked up by two men in suits and transported to a Range Rover. They were then driven to an area reserved for helicopters.
    They flew southwest from the airport, which took them over Paris. What a view. Mon Dieu , Phoebe said to herself, practicing more of the French she’d learned from American television. Pepé LePew cartoons in this particular case.
    As they flew , their host pointed out an enormous pile of white rock that he identified as Château Chantilly. Phoebe remembered seeing it in a James Bond film. When she excitedly said, “James Bond,” Mr. Brissac laughed and had an exchange with J.J. that had them both laughing.
    J.J. translated what Mr. Brissac was saying, “The Petit Château was built in 1560 for Constable Anne de Montmorency. Now it’s an art museum.”
    Phoebe didn’t understand what exactly there was about the monstrous place that was petite , but she decided to let it go. She asked for clarification on the second part of the sentence. “They let a woman be a constable? Is that what you were laughing about?”
    “N o, we were laughing because Anne, which can be either a man’s or a woman’s name in French, would be spinning in his grave to know that the name of a character from a fictional story was more famous than his own, and is now what we associate with his house rather than himself.”
    Oh. Yet another bombastic French nobleman. Megalomania abounded in France. Phoebe refrained from commenting any further and focused on enjoying the grand panoramas of the most beautiful city on earth as they zoomed across it. A few minutes later, the helicopter swooped down to land on the immaculate lawn of a gorgeous château.
    “ Esclimont,” said Mr. Brissac to Phoebe. Apparently that was the name of the place. Brissac and J.J. exchanged a few brief sentences. J.J. said merci and non several times very politely and held up his hands to refuse something, but then he gave in to accept whatever the offer was and the men shook hands.
    Phoebe w as already beyond impressed with getting to ride in the flying squirrel and with the landing at a castle, but then a couple of uniformed bellmen ran out from the fairytale château carrying a set of portable stairs which they placed outside the chopper to aid Mr. B in dismounting.
    He left them, crossed a patch of lawn and stepped up onto a wide terrace outside a row of tall French doors that ran the length of an entire wing of the house. Before he went inside, he turned and waved. J.J. and Phoebe