not know about his mother’s “intense and passionate” love affair with Alexander. Her own knowledge, acquired so recently and shockingly, was a card best kept in her deck.
Claude poured more wine. “I realize this is a delicate subject, but I want to tell you I’m aware of what you and your mother sacrificed so that your father could purchase the Swan. He often talked about the enormous expense, and how for many years your resources went largely to paying off the cost of the instrument. The Swan was a member of your family.”
“We did not suffer,” she lied.
“Do you now feel very upset with him?” He took her hand. “Or with me?”
Her answer was dismissive. “Don’t let that trouble you. Why would I be angry with
you
? Although it came as a surprise, as you noticed in Boston, I understood I could lose the Swan. My father was never very good at keeping his promises.”
“This was not my impression.”
“At least he left it to you and not to one of his mistresses.” Feeling the imminence of tears, she tried to sound nonchalant. Claude raised an eyebrow but did not probe further.
After a long silence, she continued, “I do have one favor to ask. I would prefer that people think my father and I made the decision
together
to give you the cello. That he consulted me.”
“Of course, but may I ask why?”
“Because it would be tiresome to have people constantly asking how I feel about my father’s decision. If they think I made the decision with him, they’ll be satisfied.”
“I assure you, then, that’s what I will say. And I will tell my mother never to discuss it with anyone. I’ll forbid her to.” He lifted his hand to stroke her cheek. “I know it’s bold to ask you so many questions so soon, but I’m eager to know you, and to know you very well. If you won’t yet tell me why you stopped performing in public, will you tell me if you were very much in love with Pietovsky?”
Mariana was taken aback. She paused and looked into his eyes. “Yes, yes I was,” she answered. “Very much.”
“Ah.” He sighed. “So difficult. I myself have never been very much in love. Not yet. Was it terrible when his wife —”
“Enough talk,” Mariana said abruptly.
“I quite agree. Enough, at least for tonight. We have come a certain distance to knowing each other. Now to something more pleasurable even than talking with you.”
“Yes,” she said, looking at her watch. “I must get home and you must get some sleep.”
She pushed back her chair. Impulsively, he leaned down to kiss her, putting his arms around her neck and pulling her toward him. She did not want to resist. “I don’t need sleep, Mariana. I know what I need. We must gather up our things and go back to my hotel.” He kissed her again, lingering. “Must I wait to pay the bill or shall we make a dash for it?”
“Pay quickly, please.”
Roselle waved for the waiter and the check.
CHAPTER SIX
Claude
“How was your evening, darling?” Francine was packing for her return to Lugano, her large suitcase open on the bed. In her pink dressing gown, wearing no makeup, Claude thought she looked much older.
“Very pleasant,” he said, settling into a wing chair by the window. He cast a leg over the side. “We ate at Cafe Luxembourg. I must say the food was marvelous.” He looked out at Park Avenue. “It was Mariana’s suggestion.”
Folding her evening dress, Francine paused to study him. “You had dinner with Mariana? I hadn’t realized she’d invited you …”
“No, Maman, it was I who invited her.” He opened the
New York Times
. “Had it been the reverse, she would of course have invited
you
also.”
The hotel room was furnished in mahogany and chintz. It strove for Old World elegance and, to a degree, attained it. “I’m not so sure,” said Francine.
“Will Papa be home when you return?”
“Are you changing the subject?”
He smiled at her. “I am.”
She packed a stack of blouses: pastel
Claude poured more wine. “I realize this is a delicate subject, but I want to tell you I’m aware of what you and your mother sacrificed so that your father could purchase the Swan. He often talked about the enormous expense, and how for many years your resources went largely to paying off the cost of the instrument. The Swan was a member of your family.”
“We did not suffer,” she lied.
“Do you now feel very upset with him?” He took her hand. “Or with me?”
Her answer was dismissive. “Don’t let that trouble you. Why would I be angry with
you
? Although it came as a surprise, as you noticed in Boston, I understood I could lose the Swan. My father was never very good at keeping his promises.”
“This was not my impression.”
“At least he left it to you and not to one of his mistresses.” Feeling the imminence of tears, she tried to sound nonchalant. Claude raised an eyebrow but did not probe further.
After a long silence, she continued, “I do have one favor to ask. I would prefer that people think my father and I made the decision
together
to give you the cello. That he consulted me.”
“Of course, but may I ask why?”
“Because it would be tiresome to have people constantly asking how I feel about my father’s decision. If they think I made the decision with him, they’ll be satisfied.”
“I assure you, then, that’s what I will say. And I will tell my mother never to discuss it with anyone. I’ll forbid her to.” He lifted his hand to stroke her cheek. “I know it’s bold to ask you so many questions so soon, but I’m eager to know you, and to know you very well. If you won’t yet tell me why you stopped performing in public, will you tell me if you were very much in love with Pietovsky?”
Mariana was taken aback. She paused and looked into his eyes. “Yes, yes I was,” she answered. “Very much.”
“Ah.” He sighed. “So difficult. I myself have never been very much in love. Not yet. Was it terrible when his wife —”
“Enough talk,” Mariana said abruptly.
“I quite agree. Enough, at least for tonight. We have come a certain distance to knowing each other. Now to something more pleasurable even than talking with you.”
“Yes,” she said, looking at her watch. “I must get home and you must get some sleep.”
She pushed back her chair. Impulsively, he leaned down to kiss her, putting his arms around her neck and pulling her toward him. She did not want to resist. “I don’t need sleep, Mariana. I know what I need. We must gather up our things and go back to my hotel.” He kissed her again, lingering. “Must I wait to pay the bill or shall we make a dash for it?”
“Pay quickly, please.”
Roselle waved for the waiter and the check.
CHAPTER SIX
Claude
“How was your evening, darling?” Francine was packing for her return to Lugano, her large suitcase open on the bed. In her pink dressing gown, wearing no makeup, Claude thought she looked much older.
“Very pleasant,” he said, settling into a wing chair by the window. He cast a leg over the side. “We ate at Cafe Luxembourg. I must say the food was marvelous.” He looked out at Park Avenue. “It was Mariana’s suggestion.”
Folding her evening dress, Francine paused to study him. “You had dinner with Mariana? I hadn’t realized she’d invited you …”
“No, Maman, it was I who invited her.” He opened the
New York Times
. “Had it been the reverse, she would of course have invited
you
also.”
The hotel room was furnished in mahogany and chintz. It strove for Old World elegance and, to a degree, attained it. “I’m not so sure,” said Francine.
“Will Papa be home when you return?”
“Are you changing the subject?”
He smiled at her. “I am.”
She packed a stack of blouses: pastel
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