Gabriel sighed audibly, and called back the attorney in London, feeling like a fool. He knew it was a fabulous price for the work, and he had to explain that Mrs. Luca had no interest in selling her husband’s work for now. He wanted to leave the door open for later, but he wasn’t sure she would sell any of it in her lifetime, and Theo wasn’t hungry for money either. He led a very simple life. They both did.
“My client has authorized me to make a final offer,” the attorney said in a clipped British voice, and doubled their initial offer, making it one of the most expensive paintings ever sold, if Maylis was willing to accept the price.
Gabriel was silent for a moment, stunned by the offer. “I will relay it to my client,” he said respectfully, and this time he called Theo directly instead, and told him the amount. When he heard it, Theo whistled.
“Jesus. It must be Stanislas. No one else would pay that.”
“I don’t know what to say to your mother. I think she should sell it,” Gabriel said honestly, not sure how to convince her. She listened to him about most things, but not about selling Lorenzo’s work. She was deeply emotionally attached to all of it. And no one could accuse Gabriel of having a financial interest in it, since he had stopped charging her a commission on any potential sale with the last one. He no longer felt right about it, so his advice to her was pure and without self-interest.
“I think so too,” Theo agreed with him. “I didn’t like the guy when I saw him last night, if it’s Stanislas, and I think it is.” He’d had a visceral reaction to him. “But it’s a hell of a price. She can’t turn that down.”
“I think she will, no matter what we tell her.” Gabriel sounded discouraged.
“The only good news is that he painted it when she was just his model. I doubt she’ll agree to sell any of the later ones once she was his mistress, or once they were married. She really shouldn’t turn down this offer. I think it’s an important milestone for my father’s work. It’s double what we got for the last one at Christie’s. That’s a huge jump,” Theo said practically.
“I’d remind her of that,” Gabriel agreed. “See what you can do.”
Theo called her as soon as he and Gabriel hung up, and he told her what he had said to Gabriel, that it was a major price to pay for his father’s work, and put him out in the stratosphere in the art world, and she couldn’t deprive him of it. He said that he was sure his father would want the painting sold, and he hoped his saying that would sway her. Sometimes it made a difference to invoke Lorenzo’s name and his imagined wishes.
“I’ll think about it,” she said, sounding distressed. Parting with any of his paintings felt like giving up a child to her, and losing a piece of Lorenzo again.
Much to his amazement, she called Theo back an hour later. What he had said had resonated with her, and she wanted to do what Lorenzo himself would have wanted. “If you really think this is an important milestone for him, and what he’d want, I’ll do it.” She sounded near tears as she said it. Theo knew how hard this was for her, as did Gabriel, which was why he hadn’t pushed her, but only tried to encourage her gently. And Theo had said the magic words: “You owe this to Papa. It’s what he would have wanted. It’s a tribute to his work.”
“I think you’ve made absolutely the right decision, Maman. This really is what Papa would want.” And it was a crime to turn down a price like that. They had doubled Lorenzo’s prices with a single sale, even without a bidding war at auction. Theo congratulated her on her wise decision, and urged her to call Gabriel immediately before the buyer changed his mind, or she did. And Gabriel was as surprised and impressed as Theo. And after Theo hung up with his mother, he was reminded of Vladimir Stanislas’s comment the night before, that everything had a price. He hated for him to be right, but in this case he was. And he wondered if Vladimir believed that about people too, and suspected he did, which was even worse. But if he was the buyer, he had won this time, and so had they. It was a winning situation for all.
Gabriel conveyed their acceptance to the lawyer in London, who said the buyer would be pleased. He called Gabriel back ten minutes later and said that the money would be wired into the gallery’s bank account in Paris within the hour. The buyer wanted the painting delivered to a motor yacht called Princess Marina, and a tender would be waiting for them at the dock of the H?tel du Cap-Eden-Roc in Cap d’Antibes at five o’clock that afternoon. It confirmed Theo’s initial suspicion that the purchaser was Vladimir. Now that the negotiations had been successfully concluded, he was willing to have his identity known. Gabriel called Theo the moment he hung up and told him who the collector was.
“I knew it,” Theo said. “He looked like he wanted to tear it off the wall and leave with it under his arm last night. I hate to let him have it, but at that price, how could we refuse?”
“I’m glad you didn’t, and what you said to your mother is true. This is a major milestone for your father’s work. It will set the floor, not the ceiling, for the next sale. This is a very, very important price, for the next time you or your mother decide to sell one of his paintings, and it doubles the value of his estate. That is no small thing.” Theo suddenly realized the impact of it. The value of his entire fortune, and his mother’s, had doubled with a single sale. He didn’t like the man who had bought it, and he had a bad feeling about him, but he had done them all a service. “He wants the painting delivered to his boat at five o’clock this afternoon. I’m sorry to bother you, but could you get it there? I think it would be too emotional for your mother to do it.” And it was a large piece in a heavy frame and too cumbersome for her to carry.
“Of course,” Theo said quickly, wondering if he would see Natasha, or only Vladimir. For that kind of money, undoubtedly he would want to receive the painting himself.
“They’ll have a tender waiting for you at the dock of the Eden Roc, at H?tel du Cap. All you have to do is go onboard the yacht, and hand it to Stanislas. And you’re done. They said they’d have the money in the gallery account in an hour. I’ll wire it into your mother’s. But once we have the funds, you can deliver it.” Wire transfers usually took longer, but not for Vladimir.
“I’ll be at the dock at the hotel at five. I’ll help my mother unbolt it from the wall this afternoon.” All the paintings were heavily secured to prevent theft and to satisfy their insurance company, since the house was a public place because of the restaurant. The ones in his father’s studio were less secure, but no one went there except his mother, since she lived there, and they had installed an alarm there years before. They were never cavalier about his father’s work.