by Ann Charney
“Leo,” she says, relieved to find him just behind her. “Is it all right if I stay with you for a while? Or are you one of those people I’m supposed to keep away from tonight?”
“Definitely not,” Leo says, taking her arm. “You can hang out with me as long as you like.”
As they make their way through the rooms, he points out the people who count as far Meredith is concerned: wellknown artists, collectors, critics and museum curators.
“You’ll notice they have that unmistakeable air of hauteur about them that makes it easy to pick them out, even in this crowd. The other clue is that they’re constantly being sought out by admirers.”
For all of Leo’s claims about his lack of importance, he too appears to have his share of admirers eager to greet and exchange a few words with him. Nerina quickly loses track of the people Leo introduces her to, who, for the most part, barely glance at her before turning their attention back to him. Following him around, she feels like a child at a party for grownups.
“I’ve forgiven you for stepping on my toes back there, but my feet haven’t,” he says, steering her towards some chairs at the rear of the gallery. They sit silently for a moment, contemplating the large canvas on the wall facing them — a moody painting in twilight colours of a nude figure suspended in space.
Nerina waits for Leo to say something about the painting. She likes the way he talks about art, pointing out details she would never notice and showing her how to look at a painting. It reminds her of learning to read, when all the dark little symbols suddenly began to form words. But when Leo speaks, it’s clear his thoughts are elsewhere.
“I want to talk to you about Helena,” he says, still looking straight ahead. “I’m starting to think her visit here was not such a good idea after all.”
“Not a good idea for whose sake? Your mother’s, or Helena’s?” Nerina asks, Helena’s earlier complaints still fresh in her mind.
“Probably for both of them,” he replies. “Don’t get me wrong. I admire Helena and enjoy her company, but I’m worried about the effect she’s having on my mother. You see, these two women have been locked in a battle of wills for years, and now my mother’s surgery has become the focus of their struggle.”
“What’s wrong with that? Maybe Helena can help change her mind about it. She can be very persuasive, you know.”
Before Leo can respond, a man and woman wander in. They pause for a long moment, solemnly contemplating Meredith’s painting.
“I wish it were that simple,” he resumes once they leave. “But I fear Helena’s arguments are having the opposite effect. My mother’s resistance has grown stronger since Helena has taken to pressing her to have the operation. It’s as if she’s convinced herself that in heeding Helena’s advice on this matter she’s conceding that Helena may be right about other things as well — the way she’s chosen to live her life, for example. It sounds crazy, I know, but I fear I’m right.”
Seeing how grave Leo looks, Nerina treads cautiously. “Are you sure? Wasn’t she refusing to have the surgery well before Helena arrived?”
“Look, she’s been a healthy, energetic woman all her life. It was hard for her to accept the news that she was seriously ill. But I believe she would have come around after the initial shock wore off. I don’t mean to be melodramatic, but I believe my mother’s life is at stake here.”
The degree of anxiety she hears in Leo’s voice makes it hard not to take his concern seriously. “Alright. Do you want me to ask Helena to stop talking about the surgery? I think she would actually find it a relief.”
“I’m not so sure. I think what we have here is a folie à deux, an insane desire on the part of each woman to prove the other one wrong — regardless of the cost.”
“You mean to say your mother is willing to put her life in danger just to spite Helena?” Even as she poses the question, Nerina realizes how naïve it sounds.
“It’s more than spite,” Leo explains. “Helena’s long estrangement from our family makes it difficult for my mother to trust her newfound concern. As for Helena, I believe she enjoys the opportunity to demonstrate that she is the more rational and reasonable one of the two.”
This doesn’t sound like her friend, but Nerina knows that the peculiarities of family relations can never be understood by outsiders.
“What do you intend to do about it?” she asks.
“I’m not sure. At the very least, I need to find out how long Helena is planning to stay. I’m hoping you could help me with that. It might offend her if I just came right out and asked her myself.”
“Of course,” she readily agrees. “I’ll do it tonight.”
“I’m sorry to involve you in our messy family affairs,” he says, as they rise to their feet.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad to help.”
An idea is forming at the back of Nerina’s mind. If it works out, it may ease Leo’s concern about Helena and his mother. For the moment, she prefers to keep it to herself.
XXII
Heading north
NERINA’S plan falls into place more easily than she expected. When she tells Christophe about her idea of inviting Helena to accompany them to Montreal, he quickly agrees. Too quickly, Nerina feels, remembering how excited he was about the two of them going away together.
“It would be great to have Helena at my opening,” he says. “She’s a legend in Canadian art circles.”
Nerina understands. She doesn’t blame him for trying to take advantage of any help that comes his way. Working for Leo, she has learned that the odds of becoming a successful artist are no better than those of winning the national lottery. Making things nobody needs, wants or comprehends, trying to convince yourself that what you’re doing is important and worth the sacrifices it entails, playing at makebelieve when other people your age are living the life of adults — these are choices that call for desperate measures.
As for Leo, his face lights up as soon as he hears that Nerina’s plan will give the cousins a break from each other. “This is a godsend, Nerina. Stay away for as long as you like.”
Meredith has no objections as well when Nerina asks for time off. “I’m going away myself to visit friends in California,” she says, sounding unusually serene. The positive response her exhibition has received — all the works in the show sold in the first days after the opening — appears to have improved her temper. The only gripe she has left is about Edward. “I was counting on you to take care of Edward while I’m away. Now I suppose I’ll have to look for a reliable dog sitter. Poor Edward, he’s grown so attached to you.”
The guilt inducement works, with the added effect of making Nerina jealous as she pictures Edward with her replacement. For a crazy moment she considers taking the dog along on the trip, but she doubts Christophe would agree to it. Unlike Helena, Edward is no legend in any circle.
Only Helena herself proves difficult to convince. “I’d love to drive up to Montreal with you and Christophe, but there’s Miriam to consider. I feel obligated to her, and to Leo. He did pay for my plane ticket after all.”
“Leo knows about the trip,” Nerina says, treading carefully. “He seems to think it’s a good idea for you to join us. I got the impression he felt you and Miriam could use a respite from each other.”
“Did he actually say that?” Helena sounds miffed. “I bet that’s Miriam’s doing. She shows no appreciation for all the trouble I’ve taken to talk some sense into her. I’m afraid if I run out on her now — because that’s the way she’ll see my departure — she’ll just have another thing to hold against me.”
“Why don’t you talk it over with Leo?” Nerina suggests. “He’ll know what’s best for everyone involved.”
Helena’s scruples appear to have vanished the next time she and Nerina speak. “The dear boy is worried about me,” she says, reporting on her conversation with Leo. “He knows how exhausting Miriam can be, and he will tell her the trip was his idea. After all, who knows when I’ll
have a chance to go to Montreal again? At my age, each voyage may be the last.”
With Helena on board, there is still one more thing Nerina must do before she can leave: see Marco’s lawyer. Riding the subway to her office on the Upper West Side, Nerina tries to think of all the good things she can say about Marco without running the danger of seriously perjuring herself.
The lawyer, a greyhaired woman with a friendly demeanour, has saved her the trouble. As Nerina reads through the affidavit prepared for her signature, she is relieved to find it contains little more than an account of her friendship with Marco, stressing the fact that he has been a caring and loyal friend to her. She can live with that, as well as with the last paragraph, which has her asserting that Marco has the potential to become a good father and deserves a second chance, if only for the sake of his unborn child.
Why not, she thinks as she signs the document. Deception is the rule in most immigration hearings, and people with worse crimes than pilfering in their résumé find their way into the country every day.
Christophe arrives home on the eve of their departure looking tired and preoccupied. “There is so much left to do,” he tells Nerina, who is spending the night at his place so they can get an early start. “Mostly my fault, I guess. Seeing the work after months in storage has given me ideas for some last minute changes that I just can’t ignore. So, naturally things are going slower than I anticipated.”
Listening to him, Nerina feels that Christophe has changed as well. In the couple of weeks since she last saw him he seems to have become more focused, more serious, as if their previous months together had been a holiday interlude and now his real life has resumed.
She likes the change, she thinks. For one thing, it makes her want to be more serious about her own future. Since the marathon leading up to Meredith’s show ended, she’s had time to wonder about her next move. Much as she loves Edward, taking him for walks, running errands for Meredith and answering the phones at Leo’s place no longer feels like a satisfying career path.
Helena is waiting in the lobby of her hotel when they arrive to pick her up. As she climbs into the back seat of Christophe’s Honda on a rainy morning in October, Miriam seems far from her thoughts.
“I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to this trip,” she says, leaning back against the foam pillow she’s brought for the long ride. “I don’t mean to disparage the pleasures of your company, but what I’m really looking forward to is a good long nap as soon as the car starts moving.” A few minutes after they’ve crossed the George Washington Bridge, Helena, true to her word, is fast asleep.
Despite her enthusiasm for cars, Helena made it clear before their departure that she would like to reach Montreal as soon as possible. There are people she’s arranged to see, and, more importantly, her back will not withstand the rigours of an extended journey in the confines of a small car.
Christophe deferred to Helena’s wishes, and the leisurely, meandering trip that he had first proposed, along with the cosy overnight stops, has been abandoned. The visit with Walter is all that remains of the original plan, although Helena expressed misgivings about that as well.
“I don’t think he’ll want to see anyone from his old crowd in Venice. Too many unpleasant memories. His last years there were so unnecessarily difficult.”
Helena never had much sympathy for Walter. As far as she was concerned, his troubles in Venice were mostly selfinflicted, the result of stupid pride. “Walter is a selfmade refugee,” Helena had declared when Nerina first alluded to his growing desperation in Venice. “No one is forcing him to stay here. Unlike most people in the world, he’s free to go anywhere he chooses.”
Nerina is pleased to be able to tell Helena she’s wrong to think Walter wants to avoid her. “When I spoke to him on the phone, he seemed particularly pleased to hear that you were coming.” This is true enough, but she suspects that Walter’s eagerness to see Helena is motivated by a desire to show off the new life he has made for himself, knowing that she will spread the word among the members of his former circle.
While Helena sleeps peacefully in the back seat, Christophe whispers to Nerina that he doesn’t really mind about their trip being cut short. He’s as much in a hurry as Helena to get back to Montreal and his work. And in case she thinks he has forgotten about her, he tells her that he’s given some thought to how she can occupy herself while he works.
“You’ll enjoy having the extra time to discover the city. Montreal is a great city to explore, particularly on foot. Not unlike Manhattan in that way, and filled with historic sites. The lack of prosperity for many years slowed the pace of development, leaving some of the older parts of the city more or less intact. It’s as diverse as any other major city, but its unique French element sets it apart.”
“I know. You sound like the guidebook I’ve been reading,” she tells him, interrupting his pitch. The nervousness he is feeling about the upcoming show seems to have become generalized. “No need to sell me on the charms of the city. I wasn’t all that keen on spending time in the Adirondacks.”
The rain steadily intensifies as they head north. Looking out the window at the desolate landscape beneath a lowhanging, leaden sky, she feels that if it weren’t for her desire to see Walter again — their meeting in Manhattan had been all too brief — she’d just as soon pass on Smith Falls and its surroundings.
Walter, sounded totally content with his life when she called to tell him she was coming. She teased him about having grown complacent in her absence, but he didn’t seem to mind. “What can I say? Smith Falls has been good to me. I’ll tell you all about it when I see you.”
Before hanging up, he had told her that the Grand Union where she’d worked had closed down. “The recession has hit this area pretty hard,” he’d said. When she inquired about Doris, Walter said he didn’t know what she was doing. “Luckily her husband still has his job as a prison guard, but who knows for how long? They’re talking of closing some of the prisons around here to offset the budget deficit in Albany.”
“Sounds grim,” Nerina said, thinking of Doris’s daughter, Stacey, condemned more than ever now to her little stool and her dangerous pupils.
“The people here are used to hard times,” Walter said, unperturbed. “They’re resilient, like you.”
She wonders what’s been going on in Walter’s life to account for this optimism. Perhaps it has something to do with his mysterious business trip to the city. It won’t be long now before they reach his place. Walter will be able to answer her questions then.
“How are you doing?” Christophe asks, catching sight of Helena in his rear view mirror. She’s been awake for some time now, but unusually silent.
“I think I’m mesmerized by the monotony of the scenery. All these vast, empty spaces, and a horizon that stretches as far as the eye can see. So different from the Italian countryside, where every inch of arable land is carefully toiled and densely populated.”
“I know, the contrast is startling,” Nerina agrees. “Walter says that the area is steadily losing population, and much of the farmland has reverted to wilderness. On our drives, Walter often pointed out the ruins of grand summer homes and hotels, remnants of a time when this region was a popular destination for people escaping crowded cities.”
“Hard to believe,” Helena says, peering through the rainspattered window. “No wonder you sounded so desperate in your letters. What a strange place for Walter to end up after his long love affair with Venice. You could scarcely think of two places more dissimilar.”
“Actually, he’s quite happy living here. I think you’ll be surprised to find how well the place suits him.”
The rain stops when they reach Lake Placid. The sun emerges a few minutes later, transforming the gloomy landscape into a shimmering display of fall colours. As they turn onto the road leading to Walter’s house, Nerina thinks of the first time she drove down it with Walter. “Welcome to America,” he’d said, and the surprising fo
rmality of his words had left her on the verge of tears.
“I had forgotten how the air always smells of balsam fir here,” he had observed while they lingered outdoors. “Quite a change from the stench of the canals in Venice.” Sweeping his hand across the panorama of the distant mountain peaks encircling them, he turned to her and asked, “Isn’t it beautiful up here?” willing her to see what he saw.
It had been the same time of year then, with the same brilliant colours all around her, but the sense of remoteness from everything she’d ever known made it difficult for her to respond.
Sensing her apprehension, Walter had put his arm around her and said, “Everything is going to work out just fine, you’ll see.”
Now, all this time later, she is ready to tell him he’d been right.
XXIII
Walter’s find
WHEN they turn into the driveway leading to the house they see Walter walking towards them, accompanied by two dogs.
“Don’t worry, I’ll put them in the barn,” he tells Nerina as soon as she disembarks from the car.
“It’s all right. I’m not so scared of dogs anymore,” she replies, with a hint of pride.
“That’s good, because they’re certainly interested in you.” Walter watches the dogs circle Nerina, their sensitive noses probing her clothing.
It must be Edward’s scent they’re picking up, she thinks, pushing them gently away.
“Well, Walter, I don’t think I would have recognized you if we passed each other on the street,” Helena says when they’re seated in the living room.
Nerina is used to the way Walter dresses in the country — his woodsman disguise — but she, too, finds he’s changed since their brief meeting in the city. For one thing he’s put on some weight, and there’s an air of solidity and confidence about him that wasn’t there before.
