Gabriel had a wife and daughter in Paris, but he lost his wife to cancer after he had known Lorenzo for five years. After that he brought his little girl, Marie-Claude, with him to St. Paul de Vence occasionally, and Maylis would play with her while the two men talked. She felt sorry for her with no mother. She was a sweet, sunny child, and Gabriel obviously loved her deeply and appeared to be a good father. He took her everywhere with him, to visit artists in their studios and when he traveled, and she was a bright little girl.
Lorenzo was no longer interested in children by then, not even his own, and he still didn’t want children with Maylis, despite her youth and beauty. He wanted her to himself, and her undivided attention, which she lavished on him. And it came as an unwelcome shock to both of them when Maylis discovered she was pregnant, a dozen years after they’d gotten together. It had never been part of their plan. She was thirty-three years old, he was seventy-two, and more intent on his work than ever. Lorenzo had been angry at her for weeks when they found out, and finally, grudgingly, he agreed to let her go forward with it, but he was anything but pleased at the prospect of a child. And Maylis was worried about it too. She warmed to the idea only slowly as the baby grew within her, and she realized how much it meant to her to have Lorenzo’s child. There was no question of their getting married, since he was still married to his wife, who was still alive. Cousins from the town where he’d been born confirmed it to him every few years, not that he cared.
And as Maylis grew with her pregnancy, Lorenzo painted her constantly, suddenly more in love than ever with her changing body, filled with his child. And Gabriel agreed with him that his paintings of Maylis then were some of his best work. Gabriel thought he had never seen her look more beautiful. Maylis was happy pregnant, and their son was born one night, while Lorenzo dined with his friends at the studio. Maylis had cooked them dinner, and the men drank a great deal of wine. She didn’t say anything but suspected she’d been in labor since before dinner, and she finally retired upstairs and called the doctor, while they drank. And Lorenzo and his cohorts barely noticed when the doctor arrived and joined Maylis in their bedroom to deliver the baby, who came quickly and easily. And two hours after giving birth, Maylis appeared at the top of the stairs, beaming victoriously and holding their son wrapped in a blanket in her arms. Lorenzo came upstairs unsteadily to kiss her, and from the moment he laid eyes on him, he fell in love with the child.
They named him Théophile, for Maylis’s grandfather, Theo as they called him, and he became the joy of his father’s life.
Some of Lorenzo’s most beautiful work was of Maylis holding Theo as a baby, and nursing him. And he produced spectacular paintings of the boy as he grew up. And of all his children, Theo was the only one to inherit his talent. He began scribbling next to his father from the moment he was old enough to hold a pencil in his chubby hands. It lent new excitement to his father’s work, and Lorenzo attempted to teach the boy all he knew. Lorenzo was eighty-three by the time Theo was ten, and it was already obvious by then that one day the boy would be as talented as his father, although his style was very different, even at an early age. The two would draw and paint for hours side by side, as Maylis watched them with delight. Theo was the love of their life.
By then, Gabriel had convinced Lorenzo to buy a decent house in St. Paul de Vence, although he still painted in the studio, and Theo joined him there every day after school. Maylis nearly had to drag them both home at night, and she worried about Lorenzo, who was still in good health, and worked as hard as ever, but he was slowly getting frail. He had a cough that lasted all winter, and he forgot to eat when she left him food at the studio, if she wasn’t there to give it to him, but he was as passionate as ever about his work, and determined to teach Theo everything he knew in whatever time they had on earth together.
Much to Maylis’s surprise, Lorenzo got word that winter that his wife had died, and he insisted on marrying her in the church on the hill, with Gabriel as their witness. He said he wanted to do it for Theo’s sake. So they married when Theo was ten.
It was Gabriel who urged Lorenzo to take another important leap forward in his work after that. He had continued to have no interest in a show at the gallery in Paris, but Gabriel wanted to sell one of his paintings at an important auction, to establish a real price for his work on the open market. Once again Lorenzo fought him tooth and nail, and the only way Gabriel convinced him was to tell him he had to do it for Theo, that the money he made might be important for Theo’s security one day. And as always, when Gabriel pushed him hard enough, Lorenzo reluctantly agreed. It was a decision that ultimately changed all of their lives. The painting was sold by Christie’s, in their May auction of important art, for an absolute fortune, more than Lorenzo had made in a lifetime, or had ever wanted to make. And he insisted that the painting wasn’t even his best work, which was why he had agreed to give it up.
Even Gabriel was stunned at what the painting brought. He had hoped to build Lorenzo’s prices into a more serious range over time. He hadn’t expected to get there in one fell swoop. And what happened after that was out of everyone’s control. In the next eight years, Lorenzo’s paintings, when he agreed to sell them, brought astronomical prices, and were in high demand by collectors and museums. Had he been greedy, he could have amassed a vast fortune. And as it turned out, he made one in spite of himself. His reluctance to sell them, and Maylis’s refusal to sell any of the ones he had given to her, drove the prices up even further. And Lorenzo was a very rich man when he died at ninety-one. Theo was eighteen and in his second year at the Beaux-Arts in Paris by then, which his father had urged him to attend.
Lorenzo’s death came as a devastating shock to all, most of all to Maylis and Theo, but to Gabriel as well, who had loved the man for more than twenty years, handled all aspects of business for him, and considered him a close friend, despite the insults Lorenzo had heaped on him unrelentingly till the end. It was an affectionate style of banter they had engaged in since the beginning and that they both took pleasure in. Gabriel had built his career into what it was, and he handled everything for Maylis and her son when Lorenzo died. Lorenzo had been in remarkably good health to the end, considering his age, and had worked harder than ever in his last year, as though he instinctively knew he was running out of time. He left Maylis and Theo a considerable fortune, both in art and in the investments Gabriel had made for him. Maylis was incredulous when Gabriel told her the value of the estate. It had never dawned on her what he was worth. All she had ever cared about was the man she had loved passionately for thirty years.
Despite Gabriel’s entreaties, which Lorenzo had ignored, he died without leaving a will, and by French law, two-thirds of the estate went to Theo as his only legitimate child, and the remaining third to Maylis as his wife. Overnight, she became a very rich woman, particularly with all the paintings he had given her, which formed an important collection. And the rest of his body of work went to Theo, and two-thirds of everything he had in the bank and that Gabriel had invested on his behalf. All of which left Lorenzo’s seven children by his mistresses without a penny from the estate. And after careful discussion with Gabriel, Maylis directed him to cut her financial share from the investments in half, and she gave half of what she had, exclusive of the paintings, to his seven children, who were grateful and amazed. Even Gabriel was amazed by her generous gesture, but she insisted she had enough money, and she knew that several of Luca’s children needed it more than she did. Both she and Theo were set for life, and Theo had twice what she did.
Theo continued his studies at the Beaux-Arts for two years after his father died, and then came home to St. Paul de Vence to live and work. He bought a small house of his own, with a sunny studio. Maylis had moved back into Lorenzo’s old studio and was living in the room upstairs where her son had been born. And the house that Gabriel had convinced Lorenzo to buy for them was standing empty and uninhabited. Maylis said she couldn’t bear to live there without him, in the hou
se where he had died, and felt closer to him in the studio, which Gabriel thought was unhealthy, but he couldn’t convince her otherwise.
Two years after Lorenzo’s death, Maylis was still inconsolable and unwilling to move on. Gabriel came to see her every few weeks. She was only fifty-four by then, but all she wanted to do was stand and stare at Lorenzo’s paintings, and go through them sorrowfully, remembering when he had painted each of them, particularly those he had painted of her when she was young, and when she was pregnant with Theo. It depressed Theo profoundly to see the condition his mother was in, and he and Gabriel talked about it often over dinner at Theo’s house. As a longtime family friend, Gabriel was like a father to him.
Five years after Lorenzo’s death, Maylis was no better, and then finally the deepest part of the wound began to heal, and she started to live again. She had a crazy idea that turned out not to be so crazy after all. She had liked working at the restaurant when she was young, and La Colombe d’Or was a big success. She decided to turn the house Lorenzo had bought for them into a restaurant, and she would show his work there. She had sold only one of his paintings since his death, and had refused all other requests to do so, and didn’t want to let Gabriel sell them at auction. She didn’t need the money, and didn’t want to give up a single one. And for the moment, Theo had no reason to sell his either, so the market for Lorenzo Luca’s paintings was frozen, but their value escalated every year. The refusal to sell increased their worth exponentially, although that wasn’t her goal. But Maylis liked the idea of showing them in their own restaurant, in what had been their home, almost like a museum of his work. And there were six bedrooms she could rent out as hotel rooms, if she ever wanted to, to special people in the art world.
It sounded like an insane idea to Theo when she told him about it, but Gabriel convinced him it would be good for her, and help her get back to an active life again. She was fifty-seven years old and couldn’t mourn Lorenzo forever.
The restaurant did for her what Gabriel had hoped it would. It gave Maylis a reason for living. It took a year to make the needed changes in the house, build a commercial kitchen, and create a beautiful garden for people to dine in during the summer. She hired one of the best chefs in Paris, although she hated going to Paris as much as Lorenzo had, and all the chefs she was interviewing came to see her in St. Paul de Vence. She hadn’t been to Paris in nearly thirty years, and had never seen Gabriel’s gallery. She was happy in St. Paul de Vence, and she let Gabriel stay in one of the rooms in the house on his frequent trips to check on her and advise her about the restaurant, which she called Da Lorenzo, in honor of the only man she had ever loved.
The restaurant was an astonishing success the first year, with reservations booked up to three months in advance. Sophisticated art lovers came from everywhere to see Lorenzo’s work and eat a three-star meal, rivaled only by La Colombe d’Or, who were as surprised as everyone else by what Maylis had done. She hired an excellent maître d’hôtel to oversee the dining room and garden and a top-notch sommelier, and with his help they filled their wine cellar with remarkable wines, and they became one of the best restaurants in the South of France, frequented by lovers of art and gastronomy. And Maylis presided over all of it, talking about Lorenzo, and seeing to the clients, as she had with Lorenzo’s artist friends long before. She was the keeper of the flame, and a charming hostess in one of the best restaurants in the area. It was a talent no one had suspected she had, and Gabriel often told her how proud he was of her. They had always been good friends, but had grown even closer in the years since Lorenzo’s death, as he continued to advise and help her, particularly after she started the restaurant.
It was two years after Maylis opened the restaurant when Gabriel took his courage in his hands, and told her how he had felt about her for years. He was spending more and more time in St. Paul de Vence, staying in one of the bedrooms over the restaurant, for weeks at a time, supposedly to counsel her, when in fact he just wanted to spend time with her, and be near her.
He was able to be absent from Paris, since his daughter, Marie-Claude, was working at the gallery by then, and he was hoping to ease her into running it. She was doing an excellent job, although she complained about his being away so much and leaving all the responsibility to her, but she was enjoying it too, and had introduced some new contemporary artists, who were selling well. Just as her father had, she enjoyed discovering new artists and presenting their work. And she had a good eye for what would sell in the current art market. Gabriel was justifiably proud of her.
On a quiet night, after the closing of the restaurant, sitting at a table in the garden, Gabriel opened his heart to Maylis. He had been in love with her almost since they met, and only his deep respect for his old friend, and his appreciation of the love they shared, had kept him from speaking to her sooner. But with her new lease on life and the success of the restaurant she had created, he finally felt the time was right. It was now or never, although he was terrified of destroying the friendship they had had for nearly thirty years.
Gabriel’s confession came as a shock to Maylis, and she discussed it with her son the next day. Theo knew how much his father and mother had loved each other, and what a brilliant artist he was, but he had by no means been the saint Maylis had portrayed him as since his death. And he had often been hard on her as he got older. She had devoted her whole life to him, and forgave him all his flaws. Theo had a far more realistic view of who his father had been, irascible, cantankerous, difficult, egotistical, even tyrannical at times, and possessive of his mother, with a temper that didn’t improve with age. Gabriel was a far gentler, more giving man, who had demonstrated deep concern for her and always put her first, unlike his father, and Theo had suspected since his father’s death that Gabriel was in love with her, and hoped he was. He had always thought Gabriel was a wonderful person and good for her, and he encouraged her to give Gabriel’s feelings for her some very serious thought. He couldn’t imagine a better companion for her and didn’t want her to end her years alone.
“But what would your father think of my going off with him? Wouldn’t that be a betrayal? They were good friends, after all. Even if your father was rough on him at times.”
“Rough on him?” Theo had said, laughing at her. “He called him a crook for all the years I can remember. ‘My crooked art dealer in Paris.’ I don’t know another human being who would have put up with him, except you. And Gabriel always stuck by us, and he’s still here with you now, Maman. And if he’s always been in love with you, it’s to his credit that he never let it show while Papa was alive. He was a true friend to both of you. And if you accept him now, it won’t be a betrayal, it will be a blessing for you both. You’re too young to be alone. And Gabriel is a good man. I’m happy for you. You deserve it, and so does he.” And Theo knew that Gabriel would be so much easier than his father had been, and so much kinder to her. He was the ultimate gentleman, and Theo was glad that he had finally declared himself and he hoped she would consider it seriously, and she did.
She gave Gabriel her answer a few days later, and told him she could never love any man as she had Lorenzo. She had deep affection for Gabriel, and admitted that she loved him as a friend, and it might grow into something more with time, now that he had expressed his feelings for her. But she warned him that even if they became involved romantically, which she acknowledged as a possibility, Lorenzo would always remain her first love, and the love of her life. Gabriel would have to be willing to be second best, and have a lesser role in her life, which she didn’t think was fair to him.
But loving her as he did, he was willing to accept that, and quietly hoped that she would open her heart to him fully one day. He felt sure it was possible, and was willing to take the risk. He proceeded slowly thereafter, courting her gently and wooing her in small romantic ways. He finally invited her for a weekend in Venice with him, where things took their natural course, and they had been lovers ever since. They were quiet about it at fir
st, and never made a big issue of it. He kept his room over the restaurant and left his things there, but for the past several years, he slept at the studio with her. They went on trips together and enjoyed each other’s company, and she told him that she loved him, and meant it, but she still rhapsodized about Lorenzo, and extolled his genius and his mainly imagined virtues, and Gabriel allowed her to keep her illusions without argument.
They had been lovers for almost four years, and Gabriel was satisfied with the relationship, even with its limitations, out of love for her. He never suggested marriage to her, nor asked for more than she was willing to give him of herself, and now and then Theo scolded her that she shouldn’t talk about Lorenzo all the time around Gabriel—it always pained Theo for him.
The Mistress Page 3