Chasing Cezanne Read Online Free PDF Page B

staff were summoned and interrogated. The hotel played hunt the message.
    Andre picked up two menus from the restaurant and retreated to the bar. It was remarkable how quickly a single determined individual could disrupt the calm of an entire establishment. He ordered another
kir
for himself and, hoping he remembered Camilla’s water of the moment, some Badoit.
    She joined him, sitting down with a prolonged sigh, and took a pack of cigarettes from her bag. “What a day. I must look a complete hag.” She crossed her legs and leaned back, waiting for Andre to contradict her.
    â€œNothing that dinner won’t put right.” Andre smiled and passed her a menu. “The lamb here is very good. Nice and pink.”
    â€œOh,
please
. Do you know how long meat stays in the colon? For
days
. Now, tell me all. How was the princess?”
    Andre went over his brief meeting, while Camilla sipped her water and, careful not to inhale, puffed at her cigarette. She seemed unaffected by a long day of travel, bright and attentive, asking questions, planning the next day’s work. Her energy continued over the salad Niçoise that was her dinner, while Andre, sedated by roast lamb and red wine, felt himself becoming more and more drowsy.
    â€œYou’re fading, sweetie,” she said, as the bill was placed on the table. “Do you want to go to bed?” The waiter, whose English covered the essentials, raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips.
    Andre looked at her. She looked back, with a half-smile that didn’t reach her eyes. He had an uncomfortable feeling that an invitation had been extended. Office gossip had it that Camilla maintained a liaison with a wealthy lover and possibly enjoyed discreet matinees now and then with Garabedian. Why not the occasional photographer? Editor’s comforts while on location.
    â€œI haven’t had an offer like that for weeks.” And then he laughed, and the moment passed. “Some more coffee?”
    Camilla tossed her napkin on the table and stood up. “Eight o’clock tomorrow. In the lobby.”
    Andre watched her leave the restaurant, a woman declined. He wondered if he’d just jeopardized his meal ticket.

3
    PUNCTUAL to the minute, Andre stood at the hotel entrance and inspected the morning. Apart from a few sparse licks of high cloud drifting above the hills, the great blue sweep of the sky was clear. It promised to be a day like yesterday. He walked across the terrace and looked down at the pool, guarded along one side by a closely planted, military-straight row of cypress trees, watched over at one end by a gaunt Calder mobile. The couple he had seen last night in the bar were in the heated water, laughing and splashing each other like children. Andre thought how pleasant it would be if he had someone to share a glorious day like this with him. Which, of course, he did have.
    â€œAh, there you are, sweetie. I hope you’ve got your Instamatic loaded. Where’s the car?” Camilla stood posed in the courtyard, one hand lightly holding the brim of the straw hat that everyone would be wearing by summer. She was dressed in what she liked to call her working clothes—medium heels and a rugged little Armani suit—and appeared to be in a mood that matched the weather.Andre thought, with some relief, that he must have misread her signals the previous night.
    On their way to Saint-Jeannet, she told him how she absolutely
adored
icons and, indeed, all things Russian. If they had been going to a Bavarian schloss or a Venetian palazzo, she would have adored all things German or all things Italian. It was her way of limbering up, of preparing to charm her subject.
    And this she did throughout the morning. She exclaimed with delight at everything, from the elegant but slightly shabby simplicity of the ancient house—“The allure of the unspoiled, sweetie. Wonderful architectural bones. Make sure you capture the essence of it