27. Showpiece
With only a few days before the restaurant’s grand opening, Ryan’s diva-like demands on Adam’s time ramped up to stellar levels. The meetings, paperwork and phone calls were incessant. It felt like I’d hardly seen him in days, and my irritation was obviously beginning to show.
“Keep tomorrow free,” said Adam, chastely kissing my forehead as he made his usual morning bolt for the door. “We’ll spend the whole day together.”
“I’ll cancel my other engagements.”
I couldn’t even be sure he’d heard my sarcastic comment. The front door closed and he was gone.
Unlike Adam, I was time rich, but for once I had plans too. It was the day of Ivy’s pageant seminar. Having no idea what to expect, I convinced Bente to accompany me as moral support.
I needn’t have worried. It was hardly a big-ticket event. Ivy’s little home was more cluttered than usual. Little girls ran amok through every room, squealing just as painfully as Faberge.
“How long do you expect this to take?” Bente whispered as we walked down the hall in search of Ivy.
“I have no idea,” I replied, nudging a little girl in a princess dress out of the way.
Ivy appeared out of nowhere. “Charli, it’s about time. I’ve set up for you in the sewing room,” she babbled. “What do you need?”
“A stiff drink,” muttered Bente invoking a searing glare from her sister.
“Nothing. Just room to work,” I told her, smiling.
I’d always been a little afraid of Ivy – which probably explained why I made Bente walk ahead of me as we followed her down the hall to the sewing room.
Setting up my equipment had the same effect as the Pied Piper playing his flute. Little girls and over-enthusiastic women started lining up at the door.
“How much is this session?” asked the woman first in line.
“Err, nothing. I’m doing it as a favour to Ivy.”
“I hope you take a decent picture,” she said sceptically, stroking her hand through her little girl’s auburn mane as if she were a pony. “We were offered complimentary hair and makeup at a seminar in Boston. It took weeks of conditioning treatments to right that little problem.”
A few mothers further down the line murmured in agreement, and I wondered exactly what that little problem had been.
“The whole photo shoot is free,” growled Bente. “What more could you want?”
Ivy pushed past the growing queue and stood between Bente and the woman. “They’ll be amazing, Pia,” she crowed, in the friendliest tone I’d ever heard her use. “Charli has taken photos all over the world.”
Yeah, of rolling waves and beaches, I thought. Snapshots of spoiled pageant princesses were a first. It didn’t seem like a good idea to mention that, though.
“Then we’ll expect good pictures,” said pushy Pia, staring at me.
The pageant mothers were a tougher crowed than Kinsey, Parker and Whitney all smooshed together. Pia could have come close to giving Fiona Décarie a run for her money. After three long hours I’d photographed all but one little girl. I’d dealt with tantrums, diva behaviour and tears – mostly from the mothers. Bente was barely holding it together. Her biggest task had been taping the black velvet backdrop to the wall every time it fell down, which was often. She’d resorted to swearing at it every time it happened. It was hardly a professional setup, but I had to admit it was the most fun I’d had for weeks.
The last muse and her mother stepped into our makeshift studio.
“This is Amber,” announced the woman proudly.
“Hi, Amber, you’re looking pretty today,” I told her.
“I know,” said the girl, displaying conceit far beyond her three or four years.
I spun to face Bente so Amber’s mother wouldn’t catch me smiling. Bente wasn’t so polite. She laughed out loud, appalled. I turned my attention back to the little girl on the stool in front of me. “Are you ready?”
She nodded.
Her mother took an industrial sized can of hairspray out of her handbag and practically fumigated the room with a ten second burst of spray aimed at her daughter’s head. Bente coughed. I stuffed my camera up my shirt, trying to protect the lens. “We’re aiming for a natural look,” said the woman. “Can you do that?”
I stared blankly at Amber. There was absolutely nothing natural about the child. Her skin was so bronzed it was practically metallic. I suspected her white-blonde hair had come out of a bottle too.
“She’s not a miracle worker,” snarled Bente.
I watched the woman’s expression crumple. “No problem at all,” I assured her hastily. “Natural it is.”
It was a bold promise that ordinarily I wouldn’t have felt comfortable making. Bente waited until we were alone before calling me on it. “How much editing are you going to have to do to make that kid look natural?”
“She had absolutely no makeup on. That was her mother’s idea of natural. I’ll make her look a little less shiny than the tinfoil complexion she has now, and her mum will be rapt.”
Bente tore down the sheet of black velvet and folded it up. I continued packing up my camera and laptop.
“You seem happy today.”
“I am happy. Today was great fun. I might do it again.”
“Any time you want, Charli,” announced Ivy, walking in. “You were a big hit.”
“They haven’t even seen the pictures yet.”
“It makes no difference. They liked you.” She pointed at her sister. “You, not so much.”
“Like I care.”
I knew Bente’s day had been rough. I finished packing up and got her out of there as quickly as I could. Most of the journey back to Manhattan was spent chatting. It was the first chance we’d had all day to really catch up. High on the agenda was her date with my evil brother-in-law. “You’ve told me nothing,” I chided, nudging her.
“It went well.”
“That’s it?” I asked. “That’s all you’re going to give me?”
“What do you want to know?”
“Er… everything.”
Her story was fairly short. Ryan had taken to her to a flash restaurant somewhere downtown. He looked good, he smelled incredibly good and he behaved like a gentleman. “It was nice,” she told me.
“Did you spend the night with him?”
My boldness didn’t shock her. “No. Like I said, he was the perfect gentleman.”
“Did you want to spend the night with him?”
“Charli!” Her attempt at rebuking me was mediocre at best – especially considering she went on to answer my question anyway. “I would have, if he’d asked.”
There was a reason he didn’t. Ryan actually liked Bente. I hoped she’d connect the dots and realise that. It wasn’t my place to tell her.
“Are you going to go out with him again?”
“If he asks me, I will.”
As brash and brave as Bente was, I knew she’d never make the first move. It was all up to Ryan.
“I hope it works out, Bente,” I whispered.
“Hope’s got nothing to do with it,” she replied, grinning like she’d already won the prize.
Bente was half an hour late for her shift at Nellie’s by the time we got there. Someone else had set the tables, and the restaurant was minutes away from opening. Paolo flew out the door the minute Bente arrived, and she set about doing whatever it was she did when she actually worked.
Adam and I had made plans to meet there for dinner. He arrived soon after we did, greeting me with a long, desperate kiss that implied we’d been apart for too long. He led me to the table furthest from the front door.
“Are you on the run?”
Adam pulled out my chair. “No, I just want you all to myself,” he replied, sitting opposite me. “Tell me how your day went.”
For once, I was excited to tell him about my day – so excited that I managed to do it in one ridiculously long rant. “It was great! The kids were cute – all painted up but still cute. The mothers were drama queens, but I handled them. And through all the craziness, I still managed to take some decent pictures. Even Ivy was happy, and Ivy is never happy.”
“Take a breath, my little rebel without a pause,” he ribbed.
“It was such a good day, Adam,” I said, calming my tone.
He smiled. “I like seeing you like this.”
“I imagine you probably enjoy seeing her naked too but there are some things I just don’t need to know,” interrupted Bente, pen in hand, ready to take our order.
“Can we have a few more minutes, please?” asked Adam.
“I think that can be arranged,” she replied, disappearing as quickly as she’d arrived.
“Wow. She’s in a pleasant mood.”
“Bente didn’t enjoy her pageant seminar experience as much as I did,” I explained.
We were half way through our meal when I caught something from the corner of my eye that might have added to Bente’s prickly mood. Ryan – who hadn’t said a word to us all night – was standing by the podium talking to a blonde woman pretty enough to be in his posse.
Adam noticed my preoccupation immediately. “What’s going on?” he asked, turning to see for himself.
“Who’s that girl with Ryan?”
“That’s Yolanda.”
“The interior decorator? What’s she doing here?”
“I have no idea, Charlotte,” he said, grinning. “Why don’t you go and ask her?”
I rolled my eyes at his ridiculous suggestion. “Not a chance.”
“We hired Yolanda to do the interior fit-out for the restaurant,” he explained, putting me out of my misery. “They’re probably talking business.”
I wasn’t convinced, but left quizzing Ryan about it until we were on the way out. “Ryan, are you going to see Bente again?” I turned around and slipped my arms through the sleeves of my coat as he held it out for me.
“I saw her five minutes ago.” Even without seeing him I could tell he was smiling.
“Wise guy,” I muttered.
“I have something for you,” he announced, reaching into his breast pocket. Like the juvenile he was, he waved the envelope in front of my face until I snatched it from him. It was full of money. I was perplexed, having no idea what it was for.
“Have you sold your soul, Ryan?” I asked in my best witchy voice.
He grinned. “If I had, it would’ve been for more than the eight hundred bucks in that envelope.”
“So what’s it for then?”
“I sold two of your pictures that we hung in the restaurant. You’re going to have to send some more over.”
“Who bought them? More to the point, why?”
“Yolanda bought them. She saw them at the restaurant and thought they’d be perfect for an apartment she’s decorating.”
“So you sold them? Just like that?”
Ryan frowned. “Everything has a price, Charli. I thought you’d be pleased.”
“I am. I’m thrilled.”
“Thrilled about what?” asked Adam, catching the tail end of the conversation.
Ryan told him. “She really wanted them. I should have charged her double.”
“I’m not sure they were even for sale,” said Adam smiling uneasily.
“Sure they were,” I replied. “I just didn’t realise it.”
***
It had been a fabulous day that I had no plans of ending once we’d left Nellie’s. I instigated the amorous behaviour in the elevator on the way up to our apartment. The object of my affection – although blindsided – didn’t try dissuading me. We practically fell through the apartment door, lips locked and dangerously close to being indecent, and bumped into a large piece of furniture that hadn’t been there when we’d left that morning. Colin the delivery guy had struck again.
“Do you know anything about this?” asked Adam, still breathless.
I looked at the glass-topped dining table and four black leather chairs blocking our path.
“Not a thing,” I replied, bewildered.
Adam noticed a card on the table and picked it up, groaning as he read it. As soon as I saw the flowery picture on the front of the card, I knew it was from the queen. His sour expression confirmed it.
“It’s from my mother.”
“I know. Why?”
He folded the card in half and slipped it in to his pocket. “No real reason. She noticed we didn’t have one.”
I couldn’t quite believe him. His lame explanation made no sense.
On the guise of picking up where we’d left off, I pressed my body hard up against his, kissing him intently enough to slip my hand into his pocket and retrieve the card without him noticing.
As soon as it was in my grasp, I broke our embrace.
“Don’t read it, Charlotte,” he warned gravely.
I couldn’t help myself. “Darling,” I began, in my best English accent, “perhaps you might encourage Charli to use this suite well. Good etiquette is an important part of life.”
“I warned you not to read it,” he said weakly.
“She wanted me to read it,” I replied, dropping the card on the table. “I knew I shouldn’t have combed my hair with my fork at lunch the other day.”
Adam stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Would you believe me if I told you she meant no harm?”
“Like a poisonous snake that didn’t mean to strike?”
Adam lurched forward, pulling me into his arms. “Forget about my mother,” he urged, breathing the words into my hair.
“Will you send it back?”
“Charlotte, I’ll send it to the moon if it makes you happy.”
***
If Adam had sealed his promise of spending the next day alone together by crossing his heart and hoping to die, he would’ve been a dead man by breakfast. Ryan called early, demanding a meeting to sign yet more paperwork. With a tight hold on my hand, Adam practically pulled me through the front door of the empty restaurant.
Dragging my feet gave me a chance to have a look around. Yolanda had come through for them in a big way. The attention to detail was superb. I loved everything about it, from the lavish floral arrangements to the big pillar candles. The square tables and high-backed chairs were complemented perfectly by pristine linens and white tableware. It represented the Décarie brand perfectly. Much to my amusement, it also made Nellie’s look like a low-rent diner.
“Ten minutes and we’ll be out of here,” promised Adam.
The thought of Ryan interrupting my day for even a minute was annoying. “He’s not even here yet,” I grumbled. I sat at the centre table, looking up at the mammoth chandelier above me. “Can we turn the light on?”
Adam crossed the room and a flicked the switch on the wall, sending warm light flickering around the room. “Not bad, huh?”
I played down its beauty with my stiff reply. “It’s okay.”
“Just okay? It played a big part in naming this place. It had better be impressive.”
“What did you call this place?”
Adam grimaced. “I didn’t call it anything. Ryan named it.” His expression was positively sour, piquing my interest.
“Tell me.”
Adam pulled out the chair closest to me and sat down. He looked up at the chandelier, scowling again. “The sign goes up tomorrow. Wait until then.”
“No. I need to know now. It can’t be that bad.”
He gave in instantly. “He called it Crystals.”
I cracked, covering my mouth with my hand in a silly attempt at hiding my smile. “It sounds like a strip club or a new age healing clinic.”
“Don’t tell Ryan that. He put a lot of thought into it. We spent thousands of dollars on that light fitting. I think he wants it to be the showpiece.”
The chandelier was the showpiece. It was grand and beautiful. No one needed a sign on the building to realise it.
“There are so many legends he could have drawn inspiration from. The best name he could come up with was Crystals?”
“I don’t think he knows any inspiring tales about crystals,” said Adam, grinning across at me.
I shook my head. “I wouldn’t expect him to. I’ll bet he knows a few inspirational girls called Crystal though.”
Adam laughed darkly. “Probably.”
“Chandeliers are the ultimate billet-doux,” I announced whimsically. “Love letters.”
He managed to smile and frown at the same time. “I know the translation, Charlotte.”
“I thought you might.”
“But I don’t get the connection between a chandelier and a billet-doux.”
I quickly glanced around the room, making sure Ryan was nowhere in sight. The last thing I wanted was to be caught out recounting one of the many stories in my repertoire that he found so strange.
The coast was clear.
Adam sat quiet and interested, listening to the tragic story of Mathilde and Eric.
“They had four little children and no money, so Eric worked very hard as a fisherman, sometimes for weeks on end. The family lived in dilapidated shack at the top of a cliff overlooking the bay. It was freezing in winter and unbearably hot in summer, but Mathilde refused to move to another house on lower ground.”
“Four kids, no money, ramshackle house. The woman must have been a glutton for punishment,” teased Adam, ticking off her troubles on his fingers.
“She loved that house because she could see Eric’s boat in the bay while he was out fishing. And because she was clever, he could see her too.
It started with a lantern that she hung from the porch. It was a little flicker of light that he could see all night long from his boat. Mathilde told him that every time she thought of him while he was at sea, she’d attach a crystal bead to the lantern, making the light flicker just a little bit brighter. It was her way of sending him love. It was a long distance billet-doux.”
“I like that story,” Adam murmured.
“That’s not the end,” I said, shaking my head. “After a long fishing trip one winter, Eric never made it home.”
“Let me guess,” said a sarcastic voice from somewhere behind me. “The boat sank in rough seas and she never saw him again.”
I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Ryan. I straightened. Ryan dropped a stack of papers and joined us.
“I guess you’ll never know,” I told him.
“Pay no attention to him, Charli,” urged Adam. “Finish your tale.”
“There’s no need to finish it on my account,” said Ryan, checking the time on his watch.
“Trust me. You’re going to want to hear the end of the story,” insisted Adam. “If you don’t, it’s going to torture you for the rest of the day.”
Ryan squinted at me. “That probably would be one of your magical powers – stealing lucid thoughts.”
“Amongst others,” I said, pulling a face at him.
“Continue,” Ryan demanded.
I looked at Adam as I spoke, ignoring the evil brother as best I could. “Poor Mathilde was heartbroken.”
“Maybe he just wasn’t that into her and he took off with a mermaid or something,” suggested Ryan.
“Shut up,” scolded Adam.
I could feel my temper giving way but I continued. “Convinced he was still seeing the light from far out at sea, Mathilde continued attaching crystals every night. Eventually her children all grew up and left home, leaving Mathilde alone with her grief.”
“Did they ever go back and visit?” Ryan’s curious question floored me. I looked across at him, grinning as if I’d just accomplished something huge. His sheepish expression led me to think maybe I had.
“Not for years and years – long after Mathilde had died. The old shack was worse than ever, barely standing. But still hanging from the porch was the lantern with thousands of crystal beads hanging from it – every one of them representing a moment when she’d professed her love for Eric. It was a crystal billet-doux.”
I was used to the faraway look Adam gave me after hearing my stories, but the stare from Ryan was plain unsettling. After a long while he snapped out of whatever thought he was lost in, pushed the stack of papers and a pen across to Adam and asked him to sign.
Adam flicked through pages, scrawling his name but reading nothing. “That’s it?” he asked, handing the pen back to Ryan.
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Great.” Adam stood up and pulled me to my feet. “We’re out of here.”
We were almost to the door before I turned back to Ryan. He was still sitting at the table, absently clicking the lid of the pen in his hand.
“Bye, Ryan,” I called.
He didn’t look at me. “Au revoir, Tinker Bell,” he mumbled.