She called the Russian handyman, and he promised to assemble all the furniture for her, the day she moved in. She could hardly wait, and she was ready to leave the apartment on Avenue Montaigne. It had felt like their home for a few months, but she realized now that it never was. It had just been another showplace, and none of it had been hers. Her tiny new apartment was far more real, and that was all she wanted now: a real life of her own.
When she was going through her papers, she found Theo’s number on the scrap of paper in her wallet and remembered what he had said when they had lunch, about calling him if she ever needed him, wanted help, or was in danger. But she wasn’t, and she was managing surprisingly well. She was just glad he had his paintings back. She was happy knowing it, and whatever small part she’d played, even if all it had done was cause Vladimir to sense danger and return the paintings himself. She didn’t need to talk to Theo again. She didn’t want his pity, or to have to explain what had happened, or what knowing the truth about his paintings had cost her. He owed her nothing. She loved the portrait he had painted of her, and was taking it with her. It was the only piece of art that belonged to her. But she and Theo were strangers. He had his life as an artist, and she had to make her own way now, with no one’s help. She had to do this herself, and she was. She doubted she would ever see Theo Luca again.
—
By mid-July, Maylis was back at the restaurant full-time, Gabriel was feeling well and going for long walks every day, and Theo had been released from his duties and was back in his studio. They had heightened security at the restaurant, and Maylis was still shaken by what had happened. The return of the paintings, and the way it had been accomplished, seemed like a miracle to all of them.
When Theo asked her, Maylis said that Vladimir and Natasha hadn’t been back to the restaurant. He was still convinced that he had been involved in the art theft, because they wouldn’t sell him the painting he wanted, and as some kind of sick revenge. But at least whoever had taken them had given them back, after giving everyone a hell of a scare, and the police details involved had done a lot of work for nothing. Neither their informants nor their police work had turned up who the culprits were.
Maylis said she’d heard from one of their other Russian clients that Vladimir had taken his boat to Greece for the rest of the summer. Theo was relieved and didn’t want to run into him again, although he thought of Natasha at times. He was looking at his unfinished portrait of her one day, and knew what he had to do with it. He put it back on the easel, and painted over it, so it became a blank canvas again. He had painted one portrait of her, and that was enough. His obsession with her was over, and he was free at last. She had chosen the life that suited her, and he was no part of it and never would be. She was a rich man’s dolly, which worked for her, and Theo had his own life to lead and needed to get on with it. He had been thinking of calling Inez again, although he wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do, their life goals really weren’t the same. She wanted a husband and more children, and he couldn’t see himself getting there for a long time, if ever. For now, his art was more important to him, so he didn’t call her, which seemed the cleaner thing to do. And with the art theft, he had missed going to the fair in London, so he hadn’t seen Emma again. He still laughed when he thought of her, and the good time they’d had, although a strong dose of her on a regular basis would have been too much for him. And for now, there was no one else, and he didn’t mind.
Marc came by the day he painted over Natasha’s portrait, and he told him what he’d done. Marc was impressed and silent about it for a moment, as Theo explained that it was a kind of liberation, and he opened a bottle of wine for them. They spent the afternoon drinking and talking about the strangeness of women, and the ones that had gotten away. Marc was relieved to hear that he was over his obsession, although neither of them had a woman in his life at the moment. Theo said he was happier that way for now, and concentrating on his work. He was thrilled not to be working at the restaurant.
“What about the girl who works at the gallery in Cannes? She was good looking, though a little square,” Marc commented.
“More than a little,” Theo said, on his second glass of wine, referring to Inez. “She’s not for me, and I’m not the kind of man she wants.”
“Maybe we’ll be lonely bachelor artists forever,” Marc said mournfully. He had just broken up with another girlfriend who had taken the little money he had. They always did. “Maybe you can’t have a love life if you’re a serious artist,” he said pensively, and Theo laughed.
“My father had four major mistresses and two wives, and eight kids. I’d say you can have women in your life, and art. You just need the right one.”
“That’s the problem. They’re so damn hard to find,” Marc said mournfully. Theo nodded in agreement, and they continued to drink until they finished the wine. It was the first day he had taken off in weeks, and it was nice to spend time with his friend. They admitted to being drunk by the end of the afternoon, and decided to go to the beach in Antibes and go swimming instead of working for a change. And they took the bus because they’d been drinking. By the time they left the beach, Marc had picked up a girl, and he went home with her. Theo went home alone. He was thinking about Natasha and wished her well, and then he went to bed and slept off the wine. He was glad that he no longer dreamed of her, and hadn’t in a while. He hoped he wouldn’t again. He needed to let Natasha go, into the mists of memory, where she belonged.
—
Once the paintings were returned, Athena and Steve were assigned to another case immediately, a major burglary in St. Jean Cap-Ferrat, where all the servants had been tied up and held hostage while the family was away. They had been released unharmed, but ten million dollars’ worth of jewels had disappeared, and a million in cash from the safe. Athena was sure it was an inside job, and she was right. They solved the case quickly, and the butler and cook were taken into custody and charged with the crime. It was another notch on her belt in her long history of successful arrests.
It had been three weeks since the paintings had been returned by then, and she told Steve one afternoon that she was going to St. Paul de Vence to see Theo. She wanted to have one last conversation with him and had never got the chance because of the burglary in Cap-Ferrat.
“You’re going without me?” She nodded, and he laughed. “I know what that’s about. Some fun and games with a local artist?”
“Don’t be such an idiot. This is work.”
“Tell that to someone else.” He knew her better.
“What do you think I’m going to do? Rape him at gunpoint?” She grinned, and he laughed.
“Probably. Don’t leave any marks.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Coming from you, I take that as a compliment,” Steve teased her.