Chapter 43 - The Boys and Ballet
The group piled into cars and headed to McCrady’s. There were the eight Russians, the Junes, Gale, Richard Adams, and Selgey Landkirk and her husband, Bartholomew. The first order of business in the private dining room was introducing Selgey and Bart to everyone else. Gwen wondered who was going to do this, as she didn’t know Selgey or Bart. She figured it was Gale who would do this because Gale knew everyone who lived in Charleston, or visited on a recurring basis. But Gale didn't know them either. Gwen looked at Richard, who looked back, unaware of this glitch in the proceedings. She looked at Jinny, who just smiled. Gwen looked at Peter, who pointed towards Pater, who got the message. He stepped forward and gave an, “Ah hem,” to get everyone’s attention. In an elegant manner heretofore undemonstrated to his friends, Pater said, “Allow me to introduce Selgey and Bartholomew Landkirk.” He then named the Junes, the Rodstras, the Gromstovs, Jinny, Guignard, Gale and her husband, and Richard. It was not exactly a normal introduction, because Pater now had to explain who these strangers were. Everyone was waiting on that. The men present were really interested to know who this tall, beautiful, and graceful woman was, and the women present were dying to know who this tall, elegant, and studifyingly handsome guy was.
Pater was given a bit of a reprieve when the sommelier entered the room, followed by a waiter. He conferred with Roger and proceeded to serve the aperitif, which, of course, was champagne. Roger had sent two bottles of 1989 Pol Roger. Guignard took this opportunity to whisper into Gwen’s ear that Selgey and Bartholomew were great ballet dancers from New York City, who now lived in Charleston. Gwen said, “How do you know that?” and Guignard answered that Pater had called and told her. Gwen stared at Selgey while waiting for her glass of champagne. Then she gripped Guignard’s arm and whispered, “Not THAT Selgey Landkirk. Oh my god.” Guignard did not know if this was THAT Selgey or another Selgey, but from the ferocity of Gwen’s grip on her arm, she deduced that if this was THAT Selgey, then this woman was a VIP of some considerable standing. Gwen moved over to Pater, who was waiting for his glass, and said, “Pater, my dear, where did you meet these people?”
He said, “By email, yesterday.” Gwen didn’t want a simplistic answer, she wanted a complete answer with a certain amount of reality attached to it. Pater understood this from the commanding look on Gwen’s face, and said, “I sent an email yesterday to a friend in Moscow who we worked with when we were dancing. I told her we were in the States, in South Carolina, and she said that is where Selgey and Bart live. So I got their email address and sent them a message and they answered last night, and they came to the hotel for breakfast this morning, and, well, here they are.” In Pater’s mind, and possibly in Peter’s mind, inviting them to dinner without consulting the dinner’s hosts, was fine. Just fine. Pater said, “Ballet is culture, you know, and that is our mission, right, so I figured inviting them was ok. Is it ok, Ms. Gwen?”
Gwen gave him a kiss and told him to drink up, dear boy, drink up, and gave the sommelier a look that said, 'Leave us alone,' which he understood. Everyone had a glass of bubbly. She motioned everyone to sit down, and said, “Pater, please continue.”
He said, “I hope you will welcome Selgey and Bart to our group. Selgey was principle ballerina with the New York City Ballet, and Bart was principle dancer with the London Ballet. Peter and I had the privilege of dancing with them as members of the Corps when they visited Moscow. I remember that very well. It was Coppelia, and it was fun.” He looked at Peter, who nodded a vigorous agreement. “And it was so good to learn yesterday they now live in Charleston, and so nice of them to agree to join us this evening.” Pater raised his glass in a toast. Gwen was the only one who recognized the two dancers and knew who they were. More in the way of an explanation came later in the evening.
After the bubbly came the first course, accompanied by a sauvignon blanc from Bordeaux. It was baby langoustines in garlic butter sauce. The head waiter, at Gwen’s direction, had managed to seat Helstof and Richard next to each other. Imagine that. The French lobsters gave way to the second course, a local favorite, she-crab soup. The sommelier and chef paired this with a dry sherry. Constantine asked for seconds on the soup, and when he did this, Jinny followed suit. Roger could see Jinny was going to cost a fortune in food this evening. Roger’s wine list switched to reds, and prescribed a Pegau Chateauneuf du Pape, which McCrady’s chef brilliantly matched it with a duck confit.
The succession of champagne, white Bordeaux, sherry, and a Rhone red began to work its magic. Gale began to laugh a lot, Jinny kept getting up and walking around the table, patting people on the shoulder, asking them if they liked the food, Roger asked Selgey how long she’d lived in Charleston, and did she like it. She said, “I’ve been here three years, and Bart’s been here two years. It’s such a relief for both of us after living in big cities for so long. The first time a stranger here said hello to me on the street, I really could not believe humans still acted that way. I didn’t know how to respond to the man.” Bart nodded assent. She said “There’s a calmness about living in the south, about living in Charleston, and that’s what we need now, what we want. After traveling around the world for so many years, we want simplicity, some quiet, a new place to feel at home. And now we have two new friends here who know about dancing.” She said this, looking at Peter and Pater.
Precipitated, perhaps, by the effect of the four wines, Selgey abruptly got up, went to the other side of the table and grasped Pater under the arms, pulling him erect. She drew him to the corner of the dining room, faced him arm in arm, and engaged him in an impromptu waltz around the table. She floated. That was it, she floated.
The waltz was interrupted by the arrival of the fourth course, roasted chicken accompanied by a famous French potato dish served in a terrine. First was butter, then was garlic, then was duck fat, then was shredded potato, then more garlic and more butter. Roger had sent a twenty year old burgundy to the restaurant, and these dishes were what the chef had paired with it. Greater than fabulous. During this course, Gwen noticed Richard slip a piece of paper into Helstof’s hands, below the table. Guignard asked Bart how he was able to pick ballerinas up so easily and throw them around the stage the way he did. He said, “On stage I have strength I don’t have off the stage. Everything is magnified. The women are more beautiful, the music has the power of a strong wind, the audience does not number 2000 but 20,000, and space is unlimited. When things are like that, it’s easy to lift my partner and take her where she wants to go. It’s easy to follow the music.”
Roger hoped Jinny would not try to throw any of the women present around the dining room, noticing Jinny was showing signs of getting really happy. Gwen noticed it too, got up, and took Jinny over into the corner. She put both hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye with great fondness. He returned the sentiment. She noticed that everyone else was watching them, including Roger, so she drew Jinny close to her and asked him in a quiet voice if he remembered the night they had met, in the dining room of the French restaurant down the street. At this question he raised he face to the ceiling and practically squealed with delight. He knew he always could count on Gwen to say something interesting. “Yes, Ms. Gwen, I remember very well. You looked at me with cold stare I never seen before or since. Not from Russian gangsters, not from American criminals, not from Russian army trainers, not from nobody. You didn’t scare me, but I knew you very serious woman, very serious about your man. I said to myself, Blistov, better to be friends with this woman, because being enemies, not a good thing for your future in America. You have gun under table, and I think you not mind using it on Little Jinny. I think these Junes, very interesting couple. Why not make friends. So, now we friends, no?”
Gwen gave him a kiss and said, “Yes Jinny, now we’re friends.”
The fifth course appeared, a dill shrimp salad that demanded
a return to white wine, a chenin blanc from Sancerre. After eating and drinking this perfect combination, Gwen went and stood behind Slevov’s chair. She leaned forward and quietly asked Slevov if the paper was a piece of Richard’s romance writing. She nodded. Gwen motioned for the paper, and Slevov handed it to her. She then quietly asked Richard if she could read it. There was not a man on the planet who could have refused that request. Gwen read the following:
Aristocratic Thieves Page 43
