Page 73 of Never Too Late
‘I know. And she ended up marrying one of the clients who used to accompany his mother.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, isn’t that romantic?’
‘Wait, that’s her?’ I faltered in my step as I saw the diamond-draped lady from earlier.
‘Oui. What’s the matter?’
‘I don’t think this is a good idea. I’m fairly sure I don’t have anything to say that would be of interest to someone like that.’
‘Someone like that?’
‘Come on, Gabs. The only reason I even look like I fit in here is because I’ve borrowed your clothes.’ There was certainly nothing in my wardrobe that had been fit for an event this chic. With a sartorial sixth sense, Gabby had arrived at the apartment earlier with a suit carrier slung over her shoulder and a Chanel overnight bag hanging on her arm.
‘Just in case!’ she’d said, gesturing to the items. Putting them on, although they were far removed from my usual style, had caused the years to float away once more, and we were back to those young women, swapping clothes and gossiping about the upcoming evening.
‘Oui, that is true,’ she replied.
‘Ouch.’ I knew it was true but some attempt at padding around her answer might have been nice.
She tilted her head. ‘I was just agreeing with you.’
‘You didn’t have to!’
‘But it is true,ma chérie. You said as much yourself. It’s no big deal. You always had a great eye, and now it’s time to focus it back on you after so long of looking after everyone else. But that can wait for a moment. Now,’ she continued leading me, still somewhat reluctantly on my part, towards the other guest, ‘smile, Kitty! She won’t eat you. Oh,mon dieu, what is that?’ she asked as she glanced at me, laughter in her voice.
‘You said smile. I’m smiling!’
‘Are you sure?’
I blew her a raspberry just before we got into earshot.
‘That’s better.Alors…’
Dior lady stood, her hands outstretched to take mine. ‘Now you must be Kitty. Gabrielle has told me all about you and your adventures together in Paris. I am Reine Dubaire.’
‘Bonsoir, Madame Dubaire.’ I caught myself just before I curtseyed. She gave off that sort of vibe.
‘No, no, no. You must call me Reine. Now.’ She glanced over at a waiter and he immediately turned towards us, as though she’d sent out a tractor beam from her striking blue eyes. ‘Here we are.’ She lifted the glasses off the tray, handing one to each of us. ‘Tell me all about your studies in Paris. I want to hear it all!’
‘I’d much rather hear about your time in the atelier.’
‘Then we shall both get our wish.’ She patted the space next to her on the sofa and I took my place.
‘I shall leave you two to get to know one another.’
‘Thank you, Gabby.’ Reine looked at me. ‘I think that will be lovely.’
* * *
She was right, but it was more than just lovely; it was wonderful. Two hours later, we were still sitting on the sofa, having done a round of the gallery again, Reine asking my opinion on the paintings as we stopped at each one, studying them, appreciating them. She noticed things I didn’t and the more we talked, the more I appreciated them.
‘Tomas has a very distinct brushwork, so long as you know what you’re looking for.’
‘He does?’
‘Yes. But what I love the most about his paintings is that they are real. There is so much heart in them.’ She placed a beringed hand to her chest as she said this. ‘I’m not a fan of modern art so much. Perhaps that is old-fashioned?’
