A Million for Eleanor: A Contemporary Story on Love and Money by Danil Rudoy Page B

appreciation per se” Elisa said. “But too much of it. She is clever, beautiful, knows how to behave and, I’m sure, has a lot of other merits, but she still wants to be considered better than she is. In her defense, I have to say she is not spoiled, which is surprising, given how much attention she must receive from men.”
    “I think she believes herself to be as perfect as is humanly possible,” Mrs. Charlester continued, glancing at her daughter with a mixture of discontent and admiration. “Men indulged her so much she seems to have forgotten her beauty is not eternal. She should be fine for another twenty years, but then she’ll start paying the price. And it won’t even come from men: she herself will be disappointed with what she sees in the mirror, and no man, no matter how doting, will make up fot it.”
    “You sound like you’re pitying her.”
    “I’m just stating the obvious.”
    “Whom do you think she’ll marry?”
    “Probably a fool who’ll be so afraid to lose her he’ll try to make every day of her life unforgettable. Then she’ll grow tired of him and find herself another one. I really don’t think she’ll go for a man who can match her intellectually, because it will be so much harder for her to control him. But all the same, some twenty years later she’ll be disappointed in all the love choices she made and will begin hating herself for being stupid.”
    “Even if she marries a rich man?”
    “Do you really expect her to marry a poor one? By the way, Elisa, I am glad you agreed to come. Tonight you saw a perfect example of what a beautiful lady must not be under any circumstances.”
    “She’d never be like that.”
    “I don’t think so either,” Elisa agreed. “She is such an impeccable hypocrite she must have practiced the art her whole life. And I always hated hypocrisy.”
    “Does she play an instrument, by the way?” asked Mrs. Charlester.
    “Do nerves count?”
    “All the worse. To have such fingers and not play is a crime.”
    “I think she never had time for music. She read a lot when she was little, and then she spent most of her time in relationships. You know what just occurred to me? What if she actually took me for an average guy this whole time?”
    “Your dessert!” The waiter’s voice almost made him twitch, but the sight of the cup restored all his composure. It was a true masterpiece with an ingeniously curved handle and exquisite engravings around the bottom, and it was as white as he hoped. “Are you satisfied, sir?”
    “Quite,” he said, running his index finger over the golden rim at the cup’s top. The clean and high pitch that ensued dissolved his last doubts. “My good man, tell me: where can I find a piano in this hospitable house of yours?”
    “Unfortunately we don’t have it anymore. A couple of years ago the owner decided to remove the instrument to increase the number of tables.”
    “And, if I may ask, how many of those were crammed in here as a result?”
    “Two.”
    “Do you know what happened to it? To the piano, I mean?”
    “I am not sure, sir, but if I had to guess I’d suppose it was sold.”
    “Really, what else do you do with a piano!” he exclaimed jokingly. “Sorry for asking.”
    “What are you talking about,” he heard behind his shoulder.
    “Pianos.”
    “I haven’t seen one yet. Nice cup,” Eleanor said, taking her seat.
    “I’m glad you like it. My good man, you can bring the bill, but I would like you to include in it the price of this cup as well.”
    “Excuse me, sir?”
    “I want to keep it. It’s so beautiful I fell in love with it. Tell them I broke it,” he said in a confidential whisper. “And charge thrice the price, so that no one would suspect anything.”
    “As you wish.” The waiter hurried away.
    “Eleanor, are you sure you don’t want to try this wonder?” Mrs. Charlester pointed at her chocolate cake with the silver spoon. “I got two just in case you’d change your