Aristocratic Thieves
Page 41
Chapter 41 - Helstof and The Writer
On the way home Gwen buzzed Guignard and asked her to contact the entire family to remind them their presence was required at 6pm for cocktails on the private deck at the Aquarium. Remember to call Richard Adams, the guest of honor. Everyone was to knock off early so as to have a little down time before the party.
Gwen dropped Slevov at the hotel and arrived home to find the place in an uproar. The dog had tried to get up on the kitchen counter with the cats, and all hell broke loose. Cookbooks and china and plants all went crashing, and fur went flying. Gale and Guignard were trying to stop the dog from barking and the one cat from hissing at the other two cats. The other two cats, you know which ones, now were perched on top of the refrigerator, the high ground in the kitchen. They were silent and retained their regal posture. Gwen kicked the Americano cat and the Americano dog out the back door, and eyed the two Russian interlopers. They eyed her back, cool as a Siberian breeze. If Gwen was going to settle things with the blues, she would have done it instinctively and immediately, the way she had with her own pets. She didn’t. She stood looking at them. When she didn’t act immediately, Guignard and the cats recognized victory. Gwen looked at Guignard and found her smiling. When she looked at the cats, she thought she detected a hint of a smile on their faces, but about this she was unsure, lacking experience interpreting the body language of Russian cats. She helped clean up the mess and then headed to the tub for a relaxing soak. She wanted to luxuriate in the knowledge of what she had achieved earlier with Slevov.
A while later she heard Roger and Jinny downstairs, and then Gale and the boys. Roger walked into the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the tub. “You looked relaxed,” he said. “Have a good day?”
She nodded yes, and took his hand. “Everything will be ok now,” she said. “The mission will go forward, and will be a success. Things are fine.” Roger didn’t ask for details. When Gwen spoke to him like this, he just took it in and knew it was true. He felt relieved. He said, “That’s wonderful," leaning down and kissing his wife.
At 6pm the white Mercedes and the black Mercedes parked near the Aquarium and five people emerged from each. They entered the building and were met by the administrative hostess, who took them up the elevator to the top level and to the private room and outside deck. She told them she was at their disposal for a private tour of the exhibits, just give her a buzz. They told her they were expecting a few more people, and turned to the bar loaded with bottles, ice buckets and hors d’oeuvres. Soon Gale arrived with Richard Adams. Adams knew Roger, of course, and then was introduced to the eight Russians. After this, Roger acted as bartender. Constantine asked Jinny for a cocktail recommendation. Without hesitation Jinny said, "Sidecar, great drink.” Both Roger and Gwen looked at Jinny with surprise; this guy never was short on surprises. Where had he learned about this cocktail that was so popular from the late 40s through the early 60s? Cognac, Cointreau, and fresh lemon juice were a winning combination, and Roger and Gwen indulged in them occasionally, but they couldn’t remember the last time they heard anyone order one in a Charleston bar. Jinny was ahead of his time in what surely was to become the cultural renaissance of the Sidecar. Roger mixed one for Constantine and one for Jinny and one for his wife, all straight up. Slevov asked for a champagne cocktail, and Guignard seconded that. Peter and Pater thirded and fourthed it, while Henric asked for a Bombay gin and tonic. This left Richard and Helstof with nothing in their hands. Richard asked if there was a glass of white burgundy to be had, and Roger answered there was, by his order to the Aquarium administrative hostess earlier that afternoon. He poured some into a white wine glass and handed it to Richard. Roger then looked at Helstof, expectantly. Helstof looked back at him, then at her husband, and then at the glass in Richard’s hand, which now was developing that very sexy condensation on the outside that happens in humid climates. Helstof said, “That glass of wine looks so nice, I’ll have one of those please.”
Gwen led the group outside to the deck and the spectacular view. Dominating the other side of the harbor is the aircraft carrier museum, while to the right are the steeples of downtown Charleston. To the left is the new bridge, its lights coming on, and in the distance, just a speck, but distinguishable by its tall flagpole, is Fort Sumter. Soon a tug would bring a container ship under the bridge and past the aircraft carrier, on its way past the fort, to the open ocean. Perhaps one of the containers that had held artifacts from the Hermitage was on its way back across the Atlantic.
After taking the air and viewing the view, Gwen led the group inside and had them sit in the comfortable leather chairs. The admin hostess returned with platters of hot munchies. Earlier that afternoon Gwen thought about how to introduce Richard. She had decided on the direct approach. First, though, she asked Constantine and Henric about the target shooting. She wanted to direct the group’s attention to them for a few minutes. Constantine sat up and said all the gun ranges in Saint Petersburg were indoors, and he really liked the range Jinny had taken them to on US Forest Service property up in Awendaw. He liked shooting outdoors. Henric said they would have to buy more ammo because they’d used up everything Jinny had brought. Gwen looked at Jinny and said, “Ya’ll shot 1000 rounds, EACH?”
Jinny smiled a big smile (which Roger also detected on the faces of Constantine and Henric) and said, “Yeah, we did get those guns hot.”
Constantine raised the shirttail of his Yves Saint Laurent silk shirt and pulled one of the June's Berettas out of his waistband. He said, “This is so light compared to the Brusshev, how do the Italians do it?” He had the gun pointed at the floor, and Gwen saw the safety was on, but still she felt a little nervous, being that she didn’t know how good Constantine was with guns, and the fact they were in the South Carolina Aquarium. She was relieved that the admin hostess was not in the room. She took hold of the gun and talked to Constantine for a minute about composite materials vs. steel materials, which seemed to satisfy him. Gwen didn’t return the gun to him, but stuck it in her purse, which Constantine didn’t seem to mind. Having a gun stuck down your pants at a cocktail party is less comfortable than he had imagined. Henric mentioned the difference between the double-action Sig Sauer and the single-action Glock, saying he liked the Glock better, fewer moving parts.
Gale rescued the group from gun talk by asking Richard if he’d published any new books. Gwen blew a kiss to Gale, and took over the conversation. “I asked Richard to be our guest tonight because I wanted to introduce him to Helstof.” The directness had begun. “I know Helstof likes French novels (Gwen using that term loosely, as she was talking about romance writing), and Richard writes those kinds of books. This is part of the cultural package. Richard writes about history, and beautiful places, and cultured people, and art and romance. He writes short pieces about men and women enjoying each other, and enjoying food and wine and gardens and beaches, and walking the streets of the world's great cities. He even wrote a piece about a man and a woman in Moscow.” Gwen said this knowing Henric and Helstof originally were from Moscow.
Richard perked his up ears at this, knowing as he did that he never had written anything about Russia or Russians. He looked at Gwen. Gwen went to her purse and took out a folded piece of paper and brought it back to the circle of chairs. She said, “I brought a piece of Richard’s writing to share with all of you, but especially with Helstof. This scene takes place outdoors, at a restaurant in Moscow.” She read the following:
"Isn’t this an incredible place?" the woman said.
I said it was. Little did she know it was going to get more incredible, and that happened right after the salad course. Our hands were touching on the ornamental iron railing, and the wine worked its magic on our chemistries. I saw a hint of light above us, hidden just behind the eve of the restaurant’s roof. Three minutes later she saw it too. The moon. Inexorably in crept across the sky,
ranging towards the church spires lined up along the boulevard. It bathed every nook and cranny in the landscape with a cool white light, and it was full, by god, a big white disc against the blue-black of the sky, looking like an Asian girl’s face set against the coif of her shining black hair. An ivory moon reflected the sun’s rays towards the city, and us on the patio of the restaurant.
The white linen table cloth glowed as though it was lit from below. The wine glasses turned silver, and the wine in them transmuted from dark burgundy to bright scarlet.
Then everything escalated, and grace grew greater. The light dimmed from its searing brightness, not from a passing cloud, but because of the eclipse….the unexpected full eclipse of the moon. As the dark wash crossed the face of the moon our feelings escalated. It lasted for seven minutes of no talking, just looking, and then it was over.
The event was over but our feelings were not. They were blasting and wanted out. I looked at the woman, stood up, slid around the table, and putting my arm around her relentlessly sensuous shoulder, I bent down and kissed her.
Gwen folded the paper and put in back into her purse. She looked around the group, saving Richard and Helstof for last. To say Richard was surprised would be to put it mildly. The recitation had been abstracted from a piece of his, set not in Moscow, but rather at a restaurant in St. Barths, in the Caribbean. Gwen had changed the venue for some purpose, and that intrigued Richard no end. He wondered what it was, but played along beautifully.
Henric clapped. “Moscow is the most beautiful city in the world,” he said, “and has a long history of inspiring writers to greatness. Maybe you will write a novel about our country sometime, eh, Richard?” Peter and Pater wondered if Richard could write a story for a new ballet. They were developing grand visions of original productions in Charleston. Jinny asked Guignard what an eclipse was, and she shushed him. Helstof picked up her glass of white burgundy and offered Richard a toast: “To culture and romance in Charleston, with good food, good wine, good dance (looking at the boys), and good writing. Thank you, Richard. Thank you, Gwen.”