Page 47 of It Happened In Paris

Paris’s eyes went wide at the sight of gifts wrapped in shiny pink and gold paper with exquisite ribbons. They were almost too pretty to open.

Richard interjected playfully, “Come along, sweetheart. Miriam is my mother, and believe me, she won’t bite.” He gently took her hand, escorted her to the bed, and helped her climb up.

“Mr. Astor, if you would please,” Miriam called, removing her scarf and coat and placing them neatly on a chair.

After he set down the packages on the bed, Mr. Astor smiled and said, “Hello, little miss. Nice to meet you,” extending his hand for a brief shake.

“Pleased to meet you, sir.” Paris showed off her manners and I beamed with pride.

“That’s Mr. Astor, my husband—call him Mr. Astor. Everyone does. And as for me, how about you call me Mimi? Since you already have Grandma Flora,” she joked.

Paris giggled. “Mimi? I like that name!”

“Then it’s settled. And I must say, I love your pajamas,” Miriam added, admiring the pattern of the Eiffel Tower printed on them. “Each gift is numbered. Can you find number one?”

The game began, and Paris excitedly uncovered each package—from one to ten—with a little help from Richard when needed. By the end, she had unwrapped a Barbie doll with several outfits, a Barbie car, and, as the last surprise, a Barbie horse, which quickly became her favorite.

“Ma chérie…Wasn’t it so kind of Miriam to give these to you?”

“Thank you so much, Mimi,” Paris responded, kneeling on the bed and opening her arms wide for a hug—which Miriam was more than happy to give.

“That was very sweet of you, thank you,” I said, adding my gratitude. Miriam dabbed a tear from the corner of her eye, clearly delighted.

“Now, let’s have a little chat,” she said as she settled into a nearby seat while Paris continued playing with her new toys.“I would love to support a special interest of yours, so tell me—would you like to try dancing? Ballet?”

Paris scrunched her nose.

“Acting? Theater?” Miriam offered.

My daughter shook her head, and Miriam continued to suggest various hobbies until she mentioned pony camps and horseback riding lessons.

Paris gasped, “Oh, can I, Mommy? Can I have a horse? Daddy, can I?”

While I loved her calling Richard her daddy, a twinge of concern hit me about a horse of our own. Where would I possibly keep one? And as a single mom running a business, I already had my hands full.

Miriam practically leaped from her seat and hugged Paris tightly. “Of course you will have one. I promise you’ll have the very best. You can even start riding lessons this summer once you’re feeling better.”

Paris clapped her hands and declared, “I’m so happy—I’m going to name my horse something really cute!” And just like that, she was completely on board with the plan. In true Buchanan fashion, everything moved forward fast, and I was powerless to stop it.

Miriam clutched her heart. “You’re a true horse girl, just like I was. Believe it or not, I almost made it to the Olympics in dressage.”

“What’s dressage?” Paris asked innocently.

“It’s all about achieving perfection on a horse. When you come to my home, I’ll dig out my old awards and photos to show you. I have a video or two as well. I was quite good in my day and earned many blue ribbons and silver cups in competitions.”

Horses, riding lessons, competitions—the idea was extravagant, and luckily, the Buchanans had deep pockets because I couldn’t possibly afford such ahobbyon my own.

“Vivian, I’ll need Paris’s blouse, pants, and boot sizes so I can order her riding habit today,” Miriam said, pulling a miniature gold-covered notebook and pen from her purse, waiting expectantly.

“Oh, she’s kind of in between sizes right now. Would it be best to wait?” I cocked my head at her.

“Nonsense. I’ll order a set now, another later, and anytime she goes through a growth spurt.”

I rattled off the sizes, all the while trying to imagine how much it would cost over the years, eventually giving up as the numbers grew into too many zeros.

Soon, as Miriam and Richard kept up a detailed discussion about barns, feed, and riding gear, I became dizzy and pulled out my phone. I snapped a quick photo of them and texted it to Chelsea. Since she and Rex had spent the morning at a hotel, we had this rare moment alone with Miriam. I captioned the photo: “When my daughter met her billionaire-fairy-grandmother.”

Chelsea: How was it?

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