Claire Gulliver #03 - Intrigue in Italics

by Gayle Wigglesworth

  “But the rest of our group knows about the mushrooms, Randy, Renee and George were in the kitchen when it happened. And my friend, Ruth, she also knows about it. They’ll want to know.”

  The others looked at each other. Rafael looked at Marie. “Can you talk to those four, Marie. You can explain without over-explaining, can you not?”

  She didn’t look happy about the task but she agreed.

  “And will the police question LiAnn? Will there be charges?”

  Rafael shook his head saying quietly, “For what purpose. If LiAnn should recover she will be only a shadow of her former self. Quite possibly she would be bed-ridden for the remainder of her life. But, truthfully, there is almost no hope of recovery. She has administered her own punishment.”

  There wasn’t anything else to say. When Millie felt her legs would support her she stood saying to Marie Verde, “Please tell Ruth that I went up to the room and will not be joining them again. I would appreciate it.”

  Millie hoped she could get to her room without collapsing. She need not have worried because Chef Martin offered her his arm and escorted her gallantly to her door. She noticed his complexion was pasty and he too, looked like he was feeling just about as devastated as she was.

  “Good night, Ms. Gulliver, and I thank you again from the bottom of my heart for what you have done for me.” And he left her to sort out her thoughts.

  CHAPTER 16

  Ruth and Millie arrived for breakfast later than usual. Their packing was done. Millie carried her pottery down to the desk for shipping while Ruth lugged the two hefty binders. Neither of them had slept well. When Ruth had finally returned to their room, Millie, still wide awake despite the late hour, had to repeat the entire conversation from the conference room. Then they had discussed LiAnn’s behavior from every possible angle, but they still couldn’t understand her.

  When they finally went to bed neither slept. They lay silently in the dark still puzzling it out. Unfortunately, as they didn’t think like she did, they were never going to understand LiAnn’s actions.

  Before settling at a table in the dining room, they visited all the other tables of participants to say their good-byes. They collected street addresses, phone numbers and e-mail addresses. They promised everyone they would stay in touch even though they all knew time and distractions would cause them to procrastinate.

  “Now don’t forget you promised me a visit in Connecticut,” Marybeth reminded them. “You can stay with me and even work with me in the kitchen, if you want. It would be so much fun. I’d love to have you, and I promise I have room for you both.” She really wanted them to come.

  Jacques was very sad at losing Ruth. She had become his friend and his mentor. “But I will come to San Francisco, I promise.”

  Millie and Ruth agreed they would see him again and probably soon.

  Helga and Frederick had left earlier, so they missed saying good-bye to them. But, truthfully, they hadn’t gotten close to the couple, mostly because of the language barrier, but also because of their stiff formal manner. Zoe had hugged each of them good-bye in the lobby. Her transportation was waiting for her. Stephen, they knew they would see later. He would be leaving with Chef Martin, since he was going to London for the Culinary Olympics. Michael had said his good-byes to everyone last night as he had left before breakfast this morning to catch his train to Cannes.

  Finally they sat at a table and smiled at the waiter who had poured their coffee. “It’s so sad,” Millie said. “It’s only been a week, but it seems we’ve all become so close. And now we’ll be spread all over the globe.”

  “Ah, but look at all the places we’ll have reason to visit.”

  “Now, Ruth, just because you talked me into coming to Italy, it doesn’t mean I’ve turned into a globe-trotter like you. I like San Francisco. I love my little house, my safe neighborhood. I’m content there. And even though this was a wonderful experience and I’m truly grateful to you and Claire for talking me into coming, I’ll be glad to get home. I’m just not very adventuresome,” Millie told her friend seriously. “But I am glad we’re going to Venice before going home. I’ve always wondered if it was as beautiful as it looks in the paintings. And of course I’ll be glad to see Claire. I wonder how she’s doing.”

  They were just finishing their coffee when Chef Martin stopped at their table and asked if he might sit with them a moment.

  “Of course.” Millie gestured to the empty chair. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “No, thanks, I’ve had my limit already today.” He looked at each of them, then his eyes stopped on Millie’s face and he said gravely, “LiAnn’s children have begun to arrive. Two arrived this morning, three more will come later today and I believe some more tonight. Early this morning she started having symptoms.”

  They all were silent contemplating those ominous words.

  Chef Martin continued. “Sam tells me she now is beginning to believe we were telling her the truth about the mushrooms.”

  He shook his head. “He was very upset when I talked to him. And why not? The whole episode is so stupid, so senseless.”

  Millie paled. So much for LiAnn’s determination that she was right about the mushrooms. It didn’t work for her this time.

  “But how are you feeling, Chef Martin? Will you win the Olympics?” Ruth asked.

  “Do you mean will LiAnn’s strategy work?” Chef Martin thought a moment then answered slowly, “No, I don’t think these little incidents she engineered would have really affected anything.” He shook his head vigorously. “No, no. After all, we have all learned to block out problems and worries while we’re concentrating, haven’t we? Really they were only minor annoyances.

  “Of course if the fork lift had hit me, or the mushrooms had been eaten, I would have been stopped. And several others too, I think.

  “But you know these Olympics are always very competitive. It never can be predicted who will win. It is really an honor just to compete. I’m surprised LiAnn didn’t understand that.

  “We are never told what key ingredient has been selected until the competition begins. Then we have to use it to prepare six dishes, including an appetizer, a first course, a second course and a desert. As it is impossible to plan ahead what you will be cooking it really depends equally on luck and skill to win.”

  He looked sad. “I heard that LiAnn’s grandson has withdrawn from the competition because of what his grandmother did. So he now has no chance of winning, and he will probably never enter again. It will always be a painful reminder to her family. So it turns out her determination he win, only succeeded in assuring that he never would.”

  An awkward silence fell on the table. It was so horrible none of them knew what to say.

  Chef Martin looked at Millie. “Ms. Gulliver, I believe you know I have a restaurant in New York City called Jean Claude’s?”

  Millie nodded as did Ruth. They knew. Everyone talked about it and it was mentioned frequently in the newspapers and magazines. It was where the beautiful people dined.

  “Well, every year it has been my policy to accept a few promising students of the culinary arts to intern at the restaurant. Usually they spend three to four months working in the kitchen, hopefully benefiting from their exposure to the work we do, the dishes we prepare.

  “As you can imagine the competition for these positions is somewhat intense. We do pay a modest salary to help our interns cover expenses. These people work hard and long hours.

  “At any rate, what I’m trying to say is that I would be very pleased, Ms. Gulliver, if you would consider accepting one of these positions.”

  Millie’s mouth dropped open, she was momentarily stunned.

  Ruth, too, was amazed, looking from Chef Martin to Millie, speechless.

  “Ms. Gulliver, perhaps I haven’t described this opportunity appropriately, but rest assured an internship at Jean Claude’s would certainly give your reputation a boost. I’m sure it would enhance your standing as a caterer.


  “I have been impressed with your work as well as being the happy beneficiary of your competence and quick action. I would like to do something for you that would be of value to you. You understand?”

  Millie nodded mutely.

  “So, perhaps you will think about this? We have an open slot in the fall. If that is not convenient perhaps we could arrange another time that is.” He removed his wallet from his pocket and extracted a business card. He fished a pen from his jacket pocket and scribbled on the back of the card before handing it to Millie. “Keep this and think about my offer. My secretary will be contacting you in a few weeks to pursue this idea. I would love to work with you again.” Then he stood up, smiled at Millie before turning to Ruth. “And I’ve enjoyed working with you, too, Ms. Clarkson. You have certainly contributed to the success of this Retreat. And I have heard that you have recovered your tuition fees at the card table.” They could see the laughter in his eyes. “Good luck both of you and I hope to talk to you, Ms. Gulliver, soon.”

  He left Millie to scan the card he had handed her.

  “What does it say?” Ruth was reaching for it, as excited as if she had been invited herself. “Millie, what a wonderful opportunity this is.

  “Now you’ll have to consider your clothes. It will get very cold in New York in the fall.

  “I wonder if your room will be big enough for company. No matter, when I come to visit I can sleep on the couch or even get one of those inflatable mattresses for the floor.”

  Then she exclaimed with girlish excitement, “Oh, Millie, we could go up on the train and visit Marybeth. She’s not that far from New York City.”

  Millie shook her head, putting her hands up as if to ward off Ruth’s enthusiasm. “Just a minute Ruth, what makes you think I’m going to accept his offer.”

  “Not accept? Millie, tell me you’re not even thinking of not accepting. It is a chance of a lifetime. He’s right you know. After studying with Chef Martin at Jean Claude’s your success as a caterer will be assured. It’s a wonderful opportunity.”

  “Ruth, this whole thing is getting way out of hand. I just wanted to cook. I thought I could just make tasty, nutritious meals for people who didn’t have the time or skill to prepare decent meals after a busy day at work.” Millie shook her head with frustration. “Then the Richman brothers generously gave me this trip to the Retreat as a farewell present. They meant well, but truthfully I would have been happy with a gold watch. Now I have this internship offer. It’s too much!

  “I wasn’t expecting to be a big name. I just want the fun and satisfaction of cooking while I transition into retirement. Suddenly I’m being propelled into big name status.

  “Frankly, I find it frightening.”

  Ruth’s eyes got big. “Millie, you need to think about this. You need to talk to Claire. Don’t make any decisions now. Promise me?”

  Millie nodded, reluctantly. Ruth was right. She did need to consider this opportunity carefully. She glanced at her watch.

  “Ruth, we’ve got to get moving. It’s almost time for our transportation to the train station to leave and we need to go upstairs to get our things.”

  So they did.

  * * *

  “Oh, there she is.” Millie waved her hand at Claire as she dragged her wheelie bag across the vast lobby towards the Tourist Information sign.

  She threw her arms around her daughter, who, while she now towered over her mother, was still her little girl. “Oh, I’m so glad to see you. Have you been having fun?” Then she drew back and looked at her. “You look different. It’s your hair. You did something with your hair.”

  “I think she forgot to comb it when she got up this morning,” Ruth stated as she looked closely at Claire’s casual style. “And it’s lighter. Claire, you had it lightened, didn’t you?” she accused.

  “Oh, Ruth, it’s combed. Don’t you see it’s like those styles you now see on all the film stars? They make it look mussed, don’t they Claire?” She nodded her head in approval. “I like it. It makes you look more modern, I think. Don’t you like it, Ruth?”

  But Ruth’s attention was fixed on the man hovering behind Claire suspecting he was lingering for no good. “Who’s this?” she demanded.

  Claire laughed. “I’m glad you like it, Mom. I think it grows on you. I just had it done yesterday. I thought I needed a change. And I am on vacation after all.”

  She reached behind her and grabbed Jack’s hand propelling him forward. “This is a friend of mine, Jack Rallins.”

  Both Ruth and Millie were surprised into silence.

  “Mom, I’m sure you remember me talking about my friend, Jack, who I met on my trip to England. Then we saw each other again in Washington D.C. last September.”

  Millie nodded, vaguely remembering some mention of this person.

  “Well, I ran into Jack on the vaporetti yesterday. Isn’t that odd?” She smiled, obviously pleased at the chance encounter, although both her mother and Ruth had suspicious expressions. “He’s going to be in Venice for a few days and is going to show us around. He’s been here many times and, as he has been a tour guide from time to time, I’m sure he will help us make the most of our time here.”

  Jack turned on his charm and soon the women’s suspicions melted under the force of his personality, just as the tour members had succumbed to him on the trip through England and Wales. It wasn’t long before he had both wheelie bags in hand and was ushering them towards the vaporetti stop, entertaining them with stories of his previous visits to Venice. Claire hugged her mother as she walked beside her, carrying her stuffed tote bag.

  “It doesn’t look like you have room for much shopping here in Venice, Mom. This bag is pretty full.”

  “Don’t you worry dear; I’ve learned a great travel secret.”

  Claire looked at her with expectation.

  “What you can’t carry, you ship.” Her mother laughed gaily.

  Claire laughed happily along with her. She was glad to see her mother, and it was obvious she had enjoyed the Retreat because she seemed in such a carefree mood. Claire had some misgivings about her part in convincing her mother to take advantage of the Richman brothers’ gift. Her mother had always been such a homebody and she was very reluctant about this trip. She would have blamed herself if it had been a bad experience for her. But now she couldn’t wait to hear all about it. And while her mother and Ruth were telling them about the Retreat, Claire, wouldn’t have to talk about her own experiences.

  * * *

  They arrived at the side door of the Chiesa dei Frari (Franciscan Church) early. Jack had said the church itself was worth a visit, and being early would guarantee them a seat for the concert. Claire was disappointed with the church’s appearance. It seemed plain after seeing the Duomos of Florence and Sienna. And it certainly didn’t compare favorably with San Marco. But, she noticed looking around they were the only tourists in sight. This was the real thing. It was a typical Venice neighborhood. But all thoughts of normalcy fled her mind as they entered the church. The inside was spectacular. It seemed incredible to them that this was just a neighborhood church as evidenced by the table in the back where the Italian equivalent to the Ladies’ Altar Society displayed handmade goods for sale. Yet from the back looking to the high altar through the elaborate carved screen, which separated a section which Jack whispered was where the monk’s choir sat, they had a clear view of the Titian painting, Assumption of the Virgin. Even from that distance it gleamed with light.

  Claire shivered in excitement. It was just so wonderful. They worked their way up to the side altar to see the wood carving of St. John the Baptist by Donatello and another painted masterpiece by Bellini before taking seats on one of the heavily carved benches in the monk’s choir section. Now people were arriving and the space was filling rapidly.

  “I can’t believe this art is just sitting here,” Millie whispered in her daughter’s ear. “Where are the guards? Aren’t they worried about theft?”

/>   Claire shook her head, she didn’t know. At home, treasures like these would be locked away. Even in San Marco’s she had seen numerous custodians guarding their treasures, while here this painting was just as it had been installed, in the place of honor over the altar, centuries ago. It was wonderful.

  But when the music started they were transported. It was a small section of the Milan Orchestra along with a group of guitarists. And there was a choir and soloists. The audience was held spellbound until finally the music ended and they silently filed out into the dark streets of Venice.

  “That is what all concerts should be. That is how all churches should be used. That music and the beauty of that church make you feel there is a heaven,” Ruth whispered as they walked through the dark shadowy streets, really only lanes, toward their hotel.

  Millie just smiled, nodding, not even wanting to speak, afraid it would break the spell the music had spun over them.

  “Jack, thank you for taking us. That was a real treat.” Ruth’s voice was slightly above a whisper now. The further they got from the church the more the spell was broken for her.

  “Don’t thank me. Claire saw the notice at the museum and thought it would be a nice experience. We got the information at the Tourist Information Bureau when we came to meet you.”

  He looked at Claire. “It was great. It’s the kind of thing your friend, Lucy, would have suggested if we had been in England.”

  Claire nodded. “Lucy would have loved it. I hope I can describe it adequately so she’ll understand how wonderful it was.” Then she shrugged. “Maybe it’s another of those things you just have to experience.”

  “The soprano was magnificent.” Millie was still smiling. “Can you imagine being able to sing like that? You know I’ve always wished I believed in re-incarnation.”

  “What? Why?” Claire was surprised at her mother’s comment.

  “Because it would be nice to think that you could come back again.” She looked at her daughter as she added seriously, “I would like to come back next time with a voice like that. Wouldn’t it be heavenly to stand in that beautiful old church, in front of that Titian masterpiece and open your mouth and have that wonderful voice spill out?”