Everything went smoothly at the restaurant the first week, the weather was warm, the garden was filled every night. The waiters got along. And the reservation book was filled, but not with more than they could handle.
The second week was more difficult, tempers frayed, the chef got sick for a day, and halfway through the week, on a Thursday night, Vladimir and Natasha came in. And although it shouldn’t have, seeing them together shocked him. Theo felt his stomach turn upside down the moment he saw them. He knew it was insane. She had a life with Vladimir and had lived with him for eight years. She was his mistress and claimed to love him, but when Theo saw them together, he felt physically sick. He stayed away from them all night, and assigned the headwaiter to them. And he finally had to face them when they left. Theo saw that Natasha averted her eyes and didn’t talk to him, so he chatted with Vladimir for a few minutes, who looked at him intensely with an unspoken message to stay away. He never mentioned the portrait, nor thanked him. And then they sped off in the Ferrari. And the moment they left, Theo stood on the pavement looking after them, feeling abandoned. It made no sense even to him. And Natasha clearly felt no connection to him and didn’t want one. She was taking no risks with Vladimir, and Theo had noticed that the Russian had watched them both closely for any telltale sign, but there had been none. Despite their friendly lunch in January, Natasha had been chilly and distant with him, as though they didn’t know each other. It was a strong message to him to keep his distance.
He locked up the money that night, closed the restaurant when everyone had left, went home, and drank half a bottle of wine, thinking about her and wondering why Vladimir was so lucky. He didn’t deserve her. Theo hoped they wouldn’t come in again while he was there. He took the unfinished portrait out and stared at it again. He could feel the obsession intensifying, and he didn’t want it to. But it had a life of its own and there was nothing he could do to stop it, except try to forget her. She was like a ghost who appeared in his life from time to time, and then vanished. But whether he saw her or not, she was always out of reach, and belonged to someone else. And he knew it did him no good thinking about her. His mother was right.
He was still asleep when the phone rang at seven the next morning, and when he opened his eyes, he realized that he had a hangover from the night before, and a nasty headache. He reached for the phone to answer it as he put his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. It was his mother, and she was crying. He sat up in bed then, trying to figure out what she was saying. She was incoherent. All he could understand was that something had happened to Gabriel, and he was in a coma.
“What?” The connection from Italy was terrible. “Slow down, Maman. I can’t understand you.” He was shouting, and she only cried harder. “Did you have an accident? Are you hurt too?” He was panicked.
“No, he had a heart attack.” Theo knew Gabriel had had heart problems before, and an angioplasty, but this sounded far more serious if he was in a coma.
“Not while he was driving, I hope.” He was worried for his mother too, and concerned about Gabriel. It seemed bad from what she was saying.
“No, at the hotel. He thought it was indigestion, but it wasn’t. The hotel had to call an ambulance, and the fire department came. His heart stopped twice on the way to the hospital. I was with him. They used those awful electroshock machines, and thank God they got it started again. Oh God, Theo, and now he’s in a coma.” She sobbed for a full five minutes before she could go on again, or answer Theo’s questions.
“What are the doctors saying? Are you near a big city?”
“We’re in Florence. The doctors say it all depends on what happens in the next forty-eight hours. They said he might not survive it.” She sounded devastated. Gabriel had been her tower of strength for twelve years, and now he had crumbled.
“Are the doctors any good?”
“I think so. They want to do another angioplasty, but they can’t do it until he’s stronger.”
“Did you call Marie-Claude? Do you want me to?”
“I called her last night. She’ll be here this morning.”
“Do you want me to come, Maman?” Theo offered, wishing his head weren’t pounding on top of everything that had happened.
“No, you can’t leave the restaurant. Someone has to be in charge.”
“They’ll manage if they have to,” he said firmly. “If you want me to, I’ll come.” It was a short flight from Nice to Florence. It struck him then how life could change in the blink of an eye. Ten days before, Gabriel had been fine, and in high spirits when they left on their trip, and now he was in a coma and might be dying. It was a powerful lesson about life.
“Let’s see how it goes today, and Marie-Claude will be here.” Although Theo wasn’t sure how comforting she would be for his mother. The two women had never gotten along, and he knew Gabriel’s daughter resented the time he spent with her, and complained about it often.
“Call me later and let me know how he’s doing.”
When Theo got up and showered, he was angry at himself for being upset when he saw Natasha the night before. She was the mistress of one of the richest and most powerful men in the world, and said she was happy with him. Mooning over her, and wanting a woman he could never have was doing no one any good. And what had just happened to Gabriel was a warning to them all. His mother had treated him as second best for all the years they’d been together, possibly never even realizing how much she loved him, and now she might lose him. And he had been infinitely more loving to her than Lorenzo, whom she worshipped. If Gabriel survived, Theo was going to give her a stern lecture. And he gave himself one about Natasha. She had the life she wanted, with a man who seemed to suit her. And there was no room for him in the story, except as some kind of voyeur or lovesick boy. As he waited to hear from his mother that morning, he promised himself that he wouldn’t finish the second portrait of Natasha. He needed to get over her, not feed his obsession. Marc had said as much to him months before.
—
As he sat in his kitchen, drinking coffee, Maylis was talking to the doctors, and the news wasn’t encouraging. Gabriel had had another cardiac episode that morning, and they weren’t hopeful. She was sitting alone in the waiting room crying when Marie-Claude arrived from Paris. Maylis told her what was happening, and Marie-Claude hurried down the hall to see her father in cardiac ICU, where he was on a ventilator, and family could visit him only for a few minutes every hour. Maylis had said she was his wife, and Marie-Claude looked pale when she returned a few minutes later, sat down in a chair, and blew her nose.
“He looks awful,” she said, and started to cry again, as Maylis went to comfort her, and was shocked when Gabriel’s daughter pulled away from her. “I don’t know what game you’re playing,” she said angrily. “All you’ve ever done is use my father. You never loved him.” Maylis looked horrified at what she was saying.
“How can you say something like that? We’ve been together for almost five years now, and we were close for years before that. Of course I love him.”
“Really? All you do is talk about your husband, as though he was some kind of saint, instead of a narcissistic madman who drove everyone crazy, including my father, who did everything for him, while Lorenzo accused him of stealing.” She had heard about it for years, and didn’t have her father’s patience with his artistic temperament, affection for him, or sense of humor. He had always thought it was funny when Lorenzo called him a crook. His daughter didn’t. “It’s my father who is the saint here. And if he dies, you’ll have it on your conscience that he never knew if you really loved him. All he ever knew is how much you loved Lorenzo. You even made it clear to him that you could never love him as much as you did your husband, and he was willing to accept that from you. God knows why. He didn’t deserve that.” What she was saying left Maylis speechless, and it was like a powerful slap in the face. And she knew that everything Marie-Claude was saying was true. Every word of it. And all she could do was cry a
s she listened. And after Marie-Claude unburdened herself with a heartbroken look, she left the room to call her husband, and Maylis called Theo. She was crying even harder than the first time.
“Oh my God, did he die?” Theo couldn’t understand her between the sobs. But he couldn’t imagine anything else the way she sounded.
“No, he’s still alive. It’s Marie-Claude.” She told him verbatim then what she had said, and when she finished, there was a long silence at Theo’s end. He didn’t know what to say to her. It was true, and she knew it. They all did. Gabriel had played second fiddle to an irascible, bad-tempered dead man for twelve years, four of them with Maylis as his mistress, but always pointing out to him that she had loved Lorenzo more. There were times when Theo wondered how he stood it. And he didn’t blame Marie-Claude for being upset with his mother, especially now. She wouldn’t even go to Paris to see him. She made him come to her in the South. Maylis had made very little effort. It was Gabriel who made the relationship work and was infinitely kind and loving to her. “What am I going to do? She hates me. And she’s right. I was awful to him. How could I say all those things about Lorenzo, and that I loved him more?” She was suddenly consumed with guilt, and all she wanted now was for Gabriel to survive so she could tell him how much she loved him.
“He knows you love him, Maman. I think you thought you’d be unfaithful to Papa’s memory if you admitted even to yourself how much you love Gabriel. I think he understood that. We just have to hope he gets better now. That’s all that matters.”
“It sounds like he’s going to die.” She sobbed as she said it.
“We don’t know that. He’s not that old.” But he had just turned sixty-eight with a history of heart trouble. And several cardiac arrests in a short time was dangerous.
They talked for a few more minutes and then they hung up as Marie-Claude walked back into the room and looked like she’d been crying.
“I’m sorry,” Maylis said softly, as Marie-Claude took a seat across from her again, not wanting to sit next to her. “What you said is true, and I was wrong. I’ve always loved him. I just didn’t want to be untrue to Lorenzo.”
“My father knew that,” she said grudgingly, “but it was still a terrible thing to do to him. He loves you, and he was so lonely without you in Paris that he was in St. Paul de Vence all the time. My children and I never see him. You could at least have made the effort to come to Paris once in a while.” Maylis nodded and realized that that was true too.
“I promise, I will in the future,” Maylis said, deeply chastised, and hoping she’d have the chance.
“You may not have to,” Marie-Claude said brusquely. She was irate for her father’s sake, and she had never liked Maylis, and been jealous of her father’s affection for her. She was letting her have it with both barrels now. And Maylis was honest enough to admit where she’d been wrong.
They sat in the waiting room in silence for two hours after that, hoping for news, until a doctor came in, and explained to both of them that Mr. Ferrand was not doing well. He was preparing them for the worst. Maylis nearly fainted when he told them, and Marie-Claude left the room to cry alone. Later they let them see him, still in the coma on the ventilator, which was breathing for him. He had had no more cardiac episodes, but his heart wasn’t strong. He was hooked up to half a dozen monitors, and the ICU staff was watching closely.
It was a long night for both women, waiting for some improvement or change. They took turns going to see him for a few minutes each time, but he was still in the coma and unaware of their presence. And the two women hadn’t spoken since Marie-Claude’s outburst that morning. Maylis had been lost in thought ever since, consumed with guilt, remembering each instance when she must have hurt him. She was living the agonies of the damned, and Marie-Claude had no idea of the flood tides that had opened as a result of her words. Maylis looked ravaged by morning when one of the doctors came in to see them again, and asked if they wanted last rites administered. The two women sobbed openly after that, and this time Marie-Claude allowed Maylis to take her in her arms and hold her while they both cried.
The priest came, and gave Gabriel extreme unction, and afterward Marie-Claude and Maylis returned to their vigil in the waiting room. Neither dared go back to their hotel for fear that he would die while they were gone, or regain consciousness for his last moments and they would miss them. The nurses had brought them pillows and blankets the night before, and there was a shower down the hall which they used. And Maylis went to get food from the cafeteria for both of them, but they didn’t touch it. They just drank coffee and waited for the inevitable to happen. And during one of Maylis’s turns with him at lunchtime, she saw a nurse react to one of the monitors and rush off to get the doctor. She was sure the end had come. And by the time the doctor came to check the monitor, an alarm was sounding on another one.
“What’s happening?” Maylis looked terrified as they checked him, and the nurse turned to her.
“He’s waking up,” she whispered. And as she said it, Gabriel opened his eyes and looked confused, and then closed them again and drifted off. But he had been conscious for a few minutes. And another doctor appeared to discuss whether the ventilator should be removed, and their conclusion was to wait and see what happened next.
He woke up several times that afternoon, once while his daughter was with him, the other time with Maylis, and by eight o’clock that night, his eyes were fully open, and they took him off the ventilator to see how he would do breathing on his own. His voice was hoarse when he spoke to Maylis.
“…too young to die…” he said and winked at her, and then croaked out the words “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she said and had never meant it more, as she stood next to him and held his hand. “Don’t try to talk, just rest.”
“I’ve been resting, but you look tired,” he said, worried about her.
“I’m fine.” But she looked nearly as bad as he did. It had been a hell of a scare and he wasn’t out of the woods yet, and could have cardiac arrest again, the doctor explained. They wanted to do the angioplasty as soon as possible, but he wasn’t strong enough. And after that, they let both women into the room at the same time. And they were so relieved that he was better that they got along with each other for the first time in years. And Maylis encouraged Marie-Claude to use her hotel room that night. Maylis wanted to stay with Gabriel, and Marie-Claude admitted that she’d be grateful for a decent night’s sleep and left, while Maylis slept in the waiting room again, in case he took a turn for the worse. In an odd way, Marie-Claude’s outburst had relieved the tension between them that had been building for years.
Gabriel was much better in the morning. He had color in his cheeks, his blood pressure was good, and he was responding to the heart medication they were giving him. Theo was encouraged by his mother’s reports and even talked to Gabriel on the phone, who sounded pretty good.
“They’re making a big fuss about nothing,” he told Theo. “You know how Italians are.” But Maylis said the doctors had been excellent and had saved his life. There was no question about that. And that night she went to the hotel herself, and she and Marie-Claude shared the room, since the hotel was full and they couldn’t get another one for her.
“I’m sorry I was so angry at you at first. I just know how much my father loves you, and I never thought you loved him as much. I realize now that you do. You should tell him sometime,” she said more gently, now that things had calmed down. Maylis had told him just that since he’d regained consciousness, and apologized profusely for how badly she had treated him, which he generously denied. And she promised to go to Paris with him when he was feeling better. She assured him that things were going to change from now on. She was infinitely grateful that he was alive.
They were able to do the angioplasty a week later, and it was successful clearing the blocked artery, and the next argument came over where he was going to convalesce. Marie-Claude wanted him to come home to Pari
s, and Maylis wanted to nurse him herself in St. Paul de Vence. In the end, it was Gabriel who made the decision. He wanted to go home with Maylis and stay with her, and he promised his daughter that as soon as he felt stronger, he would come to Paris and spend a few weeks there, hopefully with Maylis, and she promised to come. But first the doctor wanted Gabriel at the hotel in Florence for at least a week, so he’d be nearby if he had a problem, and he didn’t want him to fly yet, nor take the long drive back to St. Paul de Vence. Maylis had made arrangements to have the car driven back.
Gabriel was chafing at the bit to go home, but both women convinced him not to rush, and Maylis reminded him that there were worse fates than spending a week in Florence at a five-star hotel. She was able to get a big suite on the top floor with a spectacular view, and by the time Gabriel left the hospital, he was stronger, walking on his own, and thrilled with the lovely suite. The three of them had dinner in the room that night, and the next day Marie-Claude went home, and she embraced Maylis warmly as she left, and Gabriel raised an eyebrow afterward.
“I never thought I’d see that day,” he said, referring to his daughter, who had been vocal and strident against Maylis for years.
“We cleared the air while you were asleep,” she said without explaining further, but knowing that Marie-Claude was now convinced that Maylis did in fact love her father, more than ever after their scare. Nearly losing Gabriel had been an eye-opener for them all.
Meanwhile, Theo had been running the restaurant for three weeks, and hadn’t been in his studio for as long. He was monitoring the books, running the staff, coordinating with the chef about the menus, calling the florist, and getting almost hourly reports from his mother in Florence. And they weren’t due home for another week. And when they got back, she would want to be with Gabriel at night. It was almost the end of May by then, and he could easily see himself running the restaurant for another month, and he wasn’t happy about it, but there was nothing he could do. He didn’t want to complain to her. She had her hands full with Gabriel, and had had a tough time herself.
The Mistress Page 16
