“That . . .” Diana trailed off. Sounds like me. Dreaming, my whole life. Only to . . .

Only to what? To learn that everything Evan had warned her about Europe was the truth, and that she’d inflated her dreams of this trip to some fantasy world that no place on earth could ever live up to?

Her heart skipped a beat as she thought of what Evan had said. The last thing she wanted to do was to go on this trip and prove Evan right. “That’s awful.”

The woman nodded, “Yes. I’d wanted so much from this trip since I planned it for so long. Built it up in my head, and I suppose that was a mistake. Oh. Well. At least I am going home. Are you on vacation?”

Diana smiled weakly. “Um. Yes. A small one,” she lied. “It will be my first time in Paris. Maybe you can give me some suggestions as far as places to visit?” she asked, though she didn’t really want to hear any more ideas that could mess with her carefully plotted itinerary.

The plane doors closed. The flight attendants began to give their safety demonstrations, and the plane began to taxi away from the gate. Diana really didn’t want to spend seven hours listening to a woman complain about how awful her trip was, but she wasn’t sure she had a choice. It was too late to turn back now.

Luckily, as soon as the plane began to power down the runway, the woman fell asleep, snoring loudly.

That was okay. Everyone was entitled to their own opinion. She happened to like the Grand Canyon. Besides, she wouldn’t make the same mistakes. She’d love Europe. She could just feel it. Paris in the summer? Really, what could possibly be better? She couldn’t wait to get there and let the adventure of a lifetime begin.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Diana woke to the feeling of someone jostling her arm. Her eyes blinked open, and she was almost surprised to find herself on a Boeing 737 instead of in her bedroom.

“We’re here,” the woman next to her said, stretching her arms over her head and retying her flowery scarf around her neck. “Thank goodness.”

Excitedly, Diana flipped open the shade on the window and looked out upon a dreary tarmac, covered with puddles. The plane was slowly taxiing to the gate. A driving rain spattered against the pane. The buildings in the surrounding area looked much like the ones dotted around JFK. It was dreary and wet, and she had to admit . . . kind of sad.

Well, what am I expecting? It’s an airport. Things will be nicer when I get into the city.

The bell overhead dinged, and she grabbed her carry-on and headed for the door. Walking in unison with the other travelers on a mad-dash through the airport, she finally found the baggage claim. Moments later, the baggage began to arrive. The woman she’d traveled next to lifted her own case and said, “Good luck!” almost like a challenge.