| Subject: Chapter 40 (long) |
Author:
Kate
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Date Posted: 14:37:55 04/10/01 Tue
In reply to:
Kate
's message, "Things My Mother Taught Me" on 14:33:38 04/10/01 Tue
*****************
You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar.
Bandaged. Again.
Milla looked at her hand in disgust. If it wasn't one thing, it's another, she thought. But at least the bandage was smaller this time, and Sammy promised she could take it off tomorrow.
Milla looked out over the sea. It was mid-morning and she was on the public terrace at the Lucia. The early morning guests had been checked out and whisked away in taxis or buses to the train station or for a day of sight-seeing and Milla was waiting for David.
She took another drink of tea. David. Sly, Milla thought darkly. Making her agree to come home. Still, she didn't regret it. Maybe she regretted that he'd had to fetch her back, she thought, trying to be honest. After all, it was demoralizing to have someone point out your faults. And Milla had a lot of faults. At this rate, David would reduce her to less than nothing. She'd have to be very, very careful, she decided, drinking the last of her tea.
"Ready?"
Milla glanced up. David had his car keys in one hand and he looked ... cheerful. Suspiciously so, and Milla, who was by nature a suspicious person, frowned. "For what?"
"To go to the hospital. Dulcie just came back from her visit. They're releasing both Sara and your mother this morning. I thought I'd drive in to pick them up."
"Michael has his car."
"I know. But Sara's got a lot of family ... and they've all sent loads of flowers. They'll need help getting them home."
"All right." Milla got up reluctantly, still scowling.
"What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing."
David led the way to the elevator, but Milla remained stubbornly silent. Finally, he said, "I'd like to stop by the post office on the way back, if you don't mind. We need more postcard stamps and I want to get this in the mail." He held up a small, white envelope.
"What is it?" Milla asked, more from politeness than curiosity.
"The RSVP for my mother's wedding."
She blinked, and this time when she spoke, her voice was a little warmer. "You're really going?"
"It was my understanding that my going was part of our deal," David said, eyes narrowing. "Why? Did you think I'd renege?"
"No," Milla said, sounding unconvinced. The elevator doors opened, and the two went into the parking garage. David unlocked the passenger side and held the door open for Milla. After a brief hesitation, she got in and fastened her seat belt.
"It's in Canne," David said, putting the key into the ignition.
"What is?"
"The wedding. It's in two weeks."
"Oh."
David pulled out of the garage, squinted in the bright sunlight, and turned toward Sorrento. "Of course, I could always say I'm going, then go somewhere else instead."
Milla blinked, and put on her sunglasses.
"You'd never know the difference," David said blandly.
Milla looked out the car window. Her side had the view: bright blue sea, clear cloudless sky, rocky gray shore.
"Unless ..." David let his voice trail off, and finally Milla looked at him.
"Unless what?"
He shrugged. "Well, you could always come with me."
Her mouth dropped open. "Why on earth would I want to do that?"
"To make sure I fulfill my part of our bargain. Besides, Canne is nice this time of the year." David carefully pumped the brakes as they went along the curvy road.
"Are you insane? It's full of tourists in the summer. Mostly Americans. No offense."
"None taken," David said mildly.
"Besides, what would I do?"
"Drink champagne and stay at someone else's hotel," David suggested.
"Thanks, but no." She turned back to the window.
"I've heard they've opened a brand new museum dedicated to an obscure painter named Gerald Murphy. It's between Canne and Nice. Near Cap Antibe. Of course, I don't know whether you care for Murphy. He -- "
"I know who he is. He didn't paint many pictures. Not enough for an entire museum."
"The museum is not large. Murphy's works are always on show, but they have rotating exhibits. For the next two months, it's going to be devoted to very large works, things that other museums have difficulty hanging. I believe ... it seems to me like one of Murphy's pictures is nearly 20 feet across."
"Boatdeck. And it's 18 feet by 20," Milla said automatically.
"And I thought you were only interested in ancient works," David said.
"Big. I like anything that's big," Milla corrected him. "Mosaics. Frescos. They really have Boatdeck?"
"I think so. Very prominently placed, I believe." David slowed down as they got to a more congested part of town, then he pulled into the parking garage for the hospital. "Why don't I go ahead and RSVP for you, just in case?"
Milla felt her breath stop in her chest, then finally said, "I don't think --"
"You don't have to go. But if you should decide to, well, then, there won't be any problem."
"What if I decide not to go?" Milla asked, getting out of the car and slamming the door a little harder than necessary.
"Well, then, I'll just have to drink more champagne and eat two dinners. And you'd miss the Murphy museum. I'm going to spend at least a day at the museum."
A whole day. She'd studied Murphy in school and had always longed to see Boatdeck. Lost for decades, this would be the first time in nearly 80 years it had hung anywhere. But ... Milla frowned at David again. "I don't like being trapped."
"No trap, Milla," David said, his hands up in surrender. "It's just a wedding and a trip to a new museum over a long weekend. Of course, we'd have separate rooms."
"Of course," Milla said cautiously, wondering why she felt suddenly so odd.
"I just thought you might enjoy a little time away. Before you go back to Egypt."
"Oh." Milla frowned again, but this time, she looked a bit more introspective. And when she glanced up at David, instead of looking irritated, she looked ... uncertain. "I'll think about it."
"Do that." David punched the elevator button, and they stepped in. Milla prudently stood as far away from him as she could.
David kept his mouth in a firm, straight line to keep from smiling.
*****************
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