Chapter 22
22
NEW YORK, 2003
‘Darling, are you coming? We’re going to be late if we don’t leave soon.’ Leo stood at the bottom of the stairs, Allegra’s coat over his arm.
‘Just a second,’ she replied. Allegra finally descended the stairs of their West Village townhouse, dressed in a long green dress, her auburn hair falling around her shoulders.
Leo let out a long wolf whistle. ‘How do you do that?’ he said, eyebrows raised.
‘You always say that,’ said Allegra, laughing. She kissed him on the cheek. ‘Ready?’
Of all the numerous dinners Leo and Allegra had hosted with various collectors over the years, this was the one she looked forward to the most. The couple in question, Bert and Carole Donnell, had been prolific collectors for at least thirty years and owned one of the most enviable art collections in all of New York. But rather than hoard their art like hidden treasures, they shared what they couldn’t fit inside their modest Upper West Side apartment with various museums around town. The only stipulation was that the museum had to offer free entry for visitors in order for the Donnells to loan them their pieces. Over the years, the two couples had become firm friends, regularly meeting up to discuss what was happening in the art world and the inevitable gossip that came with it.
Allegra had picked one of her favourite French restaurants, legendary for both its notoriously grumpy chef patron and real star of the show, an impossibly light soufflé with streaks of spinach running through the egg inside. The room itself had been given something of a makeover since their last visit, switching its white tablecloths for paper ones and plush red velvet dining chairs for wooden seats that, in Allegra’s opinion, looked like they belonged in a classroom. But despite the brasserie makeover the food was just as good, or so she’d heard.
They were shown to their usual table – fourth on the left from the entrance, the best one in the house naturally – and Allegra ordered a bottle of champagne whilst they waited. The ice bucket was delivered to the table just as Carole came through the door, turning heads as she did so. Allegra thought her the most elegant octogenarian in all the city, her long white hair slicked back, revealing exquisite diamonds in her ears. She waved to Allegra, gently shaking her coat off her shoulders into the arms of a waiter. Bert followed as Carole crossed the black and white tiled floor, the heels of her impressively high shoes clicking as she walked.
‘What are we celebrating?’ said Carole, spying the bottle in the ice bucket. She took a seat next to Allegra. ‘I’m not sure about these chairs, are you?’
‘Don’t,’ said Allegra. ‘Why they felt the need to make it look like every other place in town, I’ll never know.’
‘Dining rooms are out, apparently. So last decade,’ said Carole, rolling her eyes.
‘We certainly are celebrating,’ said Leo. ‘Darling, do you want to tell them?’ He poured out their glasses, filling each one right up to the top.
‘I do wish you wouldn’t do that, Leo. It loses its fizz,’ said Allegra, gently disapproving.
‘Well then, drink more quickly,’ he replied, winking at her. ‘Go on, tell them.’
Bert sat down and kissed Allegra on the cheek. ‘You’re looking beautiful, as ever.’
‘Thank you, as do you both.’ Allegra picked up her glass. ‘We’re celebrating because after forty very happy, mostly busy years I’ve decided it’s time to finally sell the galleries.’
‘I think that’s wonderful,’ said Carole, clapping her hands. ‘You’ve worked so hard but life is short! Time to put yourselves first.’
‘My daughter is getting married next year in Paris so instead of coming back straight after, we thought we’ll just keep travelling through Europe and see where we end up,’ said Leo, his eyes shining.
Allegra looked at him; he looked so happy. Until now, she’d been the one always pushing to do more. Another artist, another exhibition, another sale. The idea of not working had never even occurred to her. But turning sixty had made her think of Val quitting at the top of her game. At the time she couldn’t understand why – surely there was more to be done – but now she could relate to her old boss’ decision. As much as Allegra loved her life in New York, there was so much more she wanted to do and see. As soon as she’d voiced her desire to quit to Leo, he’d been so relieved. Eve had effectively retired a few years before and now lived with her husband upstate. It had taken a while for Allegra to admit she just didn’t love the business as much as she used to and now, decision made, she couldn’t be more excited for the next stage in their lives.
‘Congratulations, darling,’ said Carole, raising her glass to Allegra’s and clinking it gently.
‘So do you have a buyer for the galleries?’ asked Bert.
Allegra shook her head. ‘Not yet, you’re honestly the first people we’ve told. We didn’t want to say anything until we were sure.’
‘You’ll have buyers queueing up once word gets out,’ said Carole.
‘Where will you go first?’ asked Bert. ‘After Paris, that is.’
Leo filled up their glasses. ‘The idea is to travel on through France to Spain, then Italy and perhaps down to Greece. Who knows? We haven’t got that far yet. We’re thinking we do a three-month trip and see where we end up.’
‘Didn’t you live in Paris years ago?’ said Carole, fixing her dark bird-like eyes on Allegra.
‘A long time ago, yes.’ Even the mere mention of the name of the city was enough to transport her back to the banks of the Seine. She thought of the evening light on the stone bridges. And there, always hidden in the shadows of her mind, was Etienne.
‘I want her to show me where she used to hang out back in the day,’ said Leo. ‘Apparently there isn’t a jazz club in the 14th arrondissement that Allegra hasn’t frequented.’
‘I didn’t go to every single one,’ she laughed. ‘Just most of them.’ She looked at Leo, thinking how lucky she was to have him love her as he did. ‘I can’t wait to show you around.’
‘Well, here’s to wonderful adventures ahead,’ said Bert, raising his glass for another toast. ‘To you both.’
They drank and ate and laughed and reminisced. By the time Allegra climbed into the cab she’d hailed whilst Leo settled the bill, she was tired but happy, knowing they’d made the right decision. The galleries had been her life for so long but it was time to see the real world, not just the one depicted on canvas by other people.
‘Where to?’ said the cab driver over his shoulder.
‘West 11th Street, please. Between 4th and?—’
‘I got you,’ said the driver. ‘Are we waiting for someone else?’
‘Yes, my husband is just inside, he won’t be a minute.’
‘I got to run the meter, ma’am, I’m sorry.’
‘That’s fine, he won’t be long. I just didn’t want to miss you.’
Allegra checked her phone for any messages as she waited. There was one from Nancy, asking if they would be at home that weekend as she would be passing through New York and did they fancy dinner on Saturday night. As Allegra typed a response, a knock on the window of the cab made her jump. She looked up to see the waiter standing there and wound down the window. ‘What is it?’ She wondered if Leo had forgotten his wallet.
‘I’m so sorry madam, it’s your husband. He’s inside…’
Before the waiter could finish his sentence, Allegra was out of the cab and through the doors of the restaurant. The ma?tre d’ took her arm and gently led her through the restaurant towards the restrooms at the back. As she crossed that same black and white tiled floor, she remembered the sound of Carole’s heels on it only a few hours earlier. This time, all she heard was the sound of her own heart beating.
* * *
Allegra moved through the following days and weeks as if in a dream. If hadn’t been for the kindness of Nancy, Eve and friends like Carole, she might never have left the house. Leo’s funeral was a small family affair with only their nearest and dearest present. The celebration service the following month saw a gathering of some of the biggest names in the art world and the uptown gallery was transformed for the occasion with many of Leo’s oldest clients gifting pieces of art to be auctioned off to raise money for charity in his honour. It was a touching gesture and Allegra was grateful for the small comfort it gave her, knowing how much her husband had meant to people he’d worked with over the years. To lose anyone to a sudden heart attack was shocking but it seemed especially cruel for it to happen to someone so seemingly fit and well despite his advancing years.
One morning, as Allegra sat at the table in her kitchen trying – and failing – to write thank you letters to the artists who’d donated their work, the doorbell went. Allegra looked up at the clock; somehow it had got to almost twelve o’clock without her noticing and she was still in her dressing gown. She peered at the screen on the wall, relieved to see Nancy standing on the doorstep.
‘I’m glad it’s you,’ she said as she opened the door and embraced her stepdaughter. ‘I’m sorry about—’ she gestured to her attire ‘—this.’
Nancy dismissed it immediately. ‘Please don’t apologise. How are you? Silly question, I know.’
Allegra still had no idea how to answer that question truthfully. ‘Oh, you know…’ was all she could manage.
‘I bought you these.’ Nancy held up a bag from Allegra’s favourite deli.
‘Bagels.’ Allegra smiled. ‘You are kind. Let’s go up.’
Nancy followed Allegra back up the stairs to the kitchen. She put the bagels on a plate and placed it on the table. ‘Please tell me you’re not writing to everyone by hand,’ said Nancy, pointing to the pile of letters on the table.
‘That’s not even half of them,’ said Allegra over her shoulder as she made them some tea.
‘You really don’t have to write to everyone, they wouldn’t expect it.’
‘It gives me something to do. Eve’s handling the sale of the galleries and I’m not ready to go through Leo’s things yet.’
‘Are you sure that’s still what you want to do?’
This wasn’t the first time Nancy had asked.
‘Honestly, I think it’s time. According to our lawyer, New York is yet to get the memo that the property market bubble is about to burst. Better to get out now, apparently. I have been thinking about what to do next though,’ said Allegra, picking at her bagel.
‘That’s good news. What are you thinking?’
‘I’m going to do that trip after your wedding, just as your father and I had planned.’
‘You are?’ Nancy couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice.
Allegra took a sip of her tea. ‘I need to get out of the city.’
‘You could just come and stay with us for a while, you know that?’
‘Thank you, but I need a real change of scene. I think I’ll go sooner rather than later.’
Nancy put her head to one side. ‘Allegra, are you sure? That’s a big decision to make whilst you’re still, you know…’
‘Grieving. I know, but I think it’s the right one. It’s too painful being here without him.’
‘Obviously it’s up to you but just don’t feel you need to make any big decisions now, that’s all I’m saying.’
Allegra took Nancy’s hand and squeezed it. ‘I won’t, I promise.’
Nancy peered at the envelope on the top of the pile of unopened post in front of them. ‘Who’s this one from? The postmark says Nice. Isn’t that in France?’
Allegra reached out to take it. ‘I hadn’t got to that one yet. Must be from one of Leo’s artists, although I can’t think who off the top of my head.’
‘I can’t believe you’re not more curious; I’d be ripping that one open,’ said Nancy, reaching for a bagel. ‘Do you mind?’
‘Help yourself,’ said Allegra. ‘How is everyone?’
Nancy spoke through a mouthful of food. ‘All good.’ She nodded at the pile of envelopes again. ‘Please open that one, I really want to know who it’s from now.’
Allegra opened the letter and read the words in front of her, her mouth moving a little as she did so.
‘What does it say?’ said Nancy, looking at Allegra expectantly.
Allegra turned the letter over to make sure she hadn’t missed anything, then read it again. She wiped a sudden tear from eye. ‘It’s from a woman called Camille, I knew her years ago.’
‘You’ve gone pale. Shall I get you some water?’
‘No, I’m fine, I just can’t believe what I’m reading.’
‘Go on,’ said Nancy. ‘Only if you want to, of course.’
Allegra went to speak, then stopped and closed her eyes for a few seconds. She took a breath, then began to talk. ‘Camille was the sister of a man called Etienne. I met him when I lived in Paris when I was eighteen. I guess you could say he was my first real love. Your father knew all about him. I was still in a bit of a mess about it when we got together. His family lived in the south, in Provence. His parents were winemakers. Anyway, Camille says she saw my name and picture in the newspaper in France. There must have been something in there after Leo died, I suppose. He had several French artists he looked after over the years so they must have done an obituary or something. She realised it was me and says they’ve been trying to track me down for a while because her brother left me something in his will.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry. When did he die?’
‘Just over a year ago, she says.’ Allegra looked from the page in front of her to Nancy, her face a picture of disbelief. ‘He left me a house.’
‘What? Where?’
‘In Cannes.’
‘Cannes, as in Cannes, France?’ Nancy put her hands to her mouth.
Allegra handed her the letter. ‘That’s what she says.’
Nancy scanned the letter. ‘I don’t believe it.’
‘Me neither. Why on earth would he leave me a house? The last letter I ever had from him was telling me not to return to Paris after my mother died.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yes, he said he didn’t love me after all, which is why none of this makes sense.’
‘You need to speak to her, find out what’s going on,’ said Nancy. ‘Look, she’s written a number here. Although from what she says here, it sounds pretty straightforward. You’ve been left a house by your first love and if that’s not the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard then I don’t know what is.’ Nancy laughed.
It took Allegra a few days to pluck up the courage but eventually, spurred on by regular messages from Nancy, she dialled the number on the letter. It was about eight in the morning in New York so by her reckoning it was around mid-afternoon in France.
‘ Oui ?’ said a voice.
‘Bonjour, it’s Allegra Morgon.’ She panicked, her mind going blank. ‘Please can I, sorry…’ She was about to hang up when she heard her name.
‘Allegra, is that really you?’
‘Camille?’
‘Yes, I’m so happy you called! We have been trying to find you!’
‘Camille, I can hardly believe it. I’m so sorry to hear about Etienne.’ Saying his name after all these years felt strange.
‘I saw your name in the paper… oh, I’m so sorry. Forgive me, we are very sorry to hear about your husband.’
‘You knew him?’
‘My husband knew him. Do you remember Serge, our neighbour?’
Allegra remembered him and his tiny wife, laughing in the kitchen in Provence all those years ago, the memory of that night seared into her brain. ‘Yes, of course. How was he connected to Leo?’
‘Serge’s son sold some his pieces to Leo long before you were married, I think. They had to sell some to keep the vineyard going after a run of bad vintages. Anyway, Leo was apparently very kind to him and so they kept in touch. I didn’t know any of this until Serge’s son emailed me the newspaper cutting. He knew I’d been trying to find you since Etienne died. I’m sorry, Allegra, it’s a lot to take in I know. But I will try and explain as best I can. Etienne had to leave Paris because my father got sick. He gave up his place at art school and moved back at my mother’s request but insisted he didn’t want you giving up your life to move so far from anywhere or anything you knew, just to be with him. He said you wouldn’t have listened if he tried to explain so instead he told you not to return.’
Allegra was stunned. ‘But… how do you know all of this?’
‘When he told me he didn’t love you any more, I knew he was lying. I used to see him reading your letters over and over again, thinking I hadn’t noticed. I tried but I couldn’t make him change his mind. I thought about not telling you that part but him leaving you the house in Cannes doesn’t make sense unless you understand that.’
‘And how did you find me?’
‘The article in the paper, the one about Leo, mentioned you and the galleries you ran so I emailed one of them and eventually a lady called Eve emailed me back. She gave me your address, I hope that’s okay. I told her why I needed to get in touch and she agreed it was something you needed to know.’
‘I see,’ said Allegra. She had a million questions but all she wanted to really know was why. Why had Etienne decided what was best for her without even asking?
The answer was obvious, even if Allegra didn’t want to admit it. He’d done it because he’d loved her. And as frustrating as it was to learn the truth all these years later, Allegra knew it was too late to do anything but accept it.