FOIE GRAS

It’s the Millennium, Chris Finn has a few million-dollar trades under his belt and it’s his big Three-O. Celebrate! The foodie guy from Boston’s hard-scrabble Dorchester has made it big time on Wall Street and knows just how to do that: top Bordeaux, foie gras, champagne Krug, a table of foodie friends from Boston now making it in the Apple, and a Park Avenue woman in his life who can match his tennis game. This dude has made it. And then comes 9/11 and in 2002 the stock market explodes.
Reboot. Or crash and burn.
In Antique Alley in rural New Hampshire lives Nancy, his mom’s cousin who has been his guardian angel throughout his life, a reprobate liberal he spars with, and all the family he has left. Shaken by his suicidal jaywalk against Manhattan traffic — a kill-me-if-you-can moment — he calls her.
“Get up here.”
She’s always had a magic formula for his life, and this time it’s: Time to go to Europe; you’ve got a cousin in Paris.
What cousin? She teases him with tidbits.
You’ve earned the Grand Tour.
Yes he has. He’d worked his way through B-school and interned summers; he’s never done Europe. And a foodie needs to do Paris. She’s lit a spark.
His life will never be the same again.