Page 59 of The Velvet Hours
“I kept every one she wrote me.”
“Did you ever write back to her?”
A long sigh escaped her.
“It was so hard for me, Solange.” She shook her head. “For all these letters she wrote describing your father’s accomplishments, I wrote back only twice.”
29.
Solange
December 1939
Alex met me near grandmother’s apartment, his neck wrapped in a blue wool scarf.
“Did you get more material for your novel?” He smiled as he leaned over to kiss me on both cheeks.
“Yes,” I said. “She showed me a more sensitive side of her that I wasn’t expecting.” I made a face. “And she seemed more fragile this time, too... I hope she’s not ill.”
“I hope so, too,” he said. “After reading today’s headlines, I’m not sure I could take any more bad news.”
He showed me the newspaper he was holding. The Soviet Union had invaded Finland, so now those two countries were also at war.
I shook my head in disbelief. Part of me wanted to stop reading the newspaper. Every day the headlines seemed to worsen, and I always felt sick to my stomach afterward. “It was just sad to hear her tell how she learned her lover had passed away.” I didn’t think I couldmention the latest revelation, how Boldini had showered her with love letters, too.
“Lover.” The word felt strange and mysterious on my tongue, like a secret.
“One of these days I hope you’ll introduce me to this grandmother of yours. She sounds completely different than mine was!” He laughed. “What I remember of mine was that she was missing a tooth, and spent all her time either knitting or baking. Certainly not one to have had a lover!”
I smiled. “I think she’d probably like you.” My eyes ran over him. Alex was tall and slight with dark hair and green eyes. No one would deny that he was quite handsome.
“I have to be back at the store by three p.m. Solomon has finished restoring two books, and Papa has miraculously found two collectors who are interested in purchasing them.” Alex glanced at his watch. “So that leaves three hours to be with you.”
I smiled and his eyes flickered back at me.
“Let’s go to the Bois de Boulogne,” I said. “The grass will be covered in frost, the trees will be bare, but at least we’ll have the whole place to ourselves.”
It was true. December had made everything gray. The sky was the color of pewter. There wasn’t a flower in sight. But the thought of walking through the park with Alex thrilled me.
“Very well,” he answered. “You shall have your wish. But we should be quick. It’s not so close.”
I felt his hand reach for mine, his fingers tightly grasping my own.
As we raced to the Métro, I had never felt more alive. The striking of our heels against the pavement sounded exuberant. It was the music of youth, excitement, joy all wrapped into one.
***
We rode the Métro like young students. Our chins nestled in scarves, my bag with my notebook and pen slung across my coat, and ourhands entwined. For the first time since I could remember, I wasn’t absorbed in observing the faces of those who crowded into the subway car around me. My world consisted at that moment of only Alex and me.
At the park, we strolled through the winding paths. Little clouds formed from our breath as we spoke, and I clutched his hand even tighter.
“I haven’t been here in years,” I said. “My grandmother told me that the highest-ranking courtesans used to take their carriages out here for their illicit rendezvous. Can you imagine?”
“In their carriages?” Alex smiled. I thought I saw the color deepen in his cheeks. “Well, that’s a morsel I’m going to be mulling over in my mind tonight.”
I closed my eyes and tried to savor just how wonderful it was for us to be in the middle of the park with hardly another soul in sight.
Alex pulled me closer, and my body suddenly felt weightless.
