Spoils of the Game (10 page)

Madeline opened one eye and then the other. Her hair was a mess, and her makeup was all over the pillow. She looked up and saw Austin, then rolled over, hiding her head under the pillow. From her hiding location came the words, “Oh, no. What you must think of me?”

“I think you are kind of cute, even if you are a mess,” smiled Austin. “I am going downstairs to get some breakfast. I have some toothpaste and a spare toothbrush in the bath. I will make sure they hold some coffee for you. Now get up, because this is your big day.”

Austin sat in the dining room and finished off his eggs and croissants with three cups of coffee while reading a British newspaper. Twenty minutes after he’d left Madeline, he was surprised to look up and see her enter the room so soon.

“Austin, I am so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” replied Austin, trying to make light of the situation.

On Austin’s suggestion, the waiter brought a pitcher of coffee and placed it in front of Madeline.

“Austin, I am so embarrassed. I am not that kind of woman.”

“I know, but what are you going to tell your sister and Louis? They know that you did not come home last night.”

“She put me up to it.”

“So what are you going to tell her happened?” asked Austin with a smile on his face. “I mean, I don’t care what you tell her. I just want us to have the same story.”

Madeline studied Austin’s face. She was beginning to understand. Although nothing had actually happened the night before, she now knew that something could have happened, and she was pleased.

“I will tell her nothing and let her wonder. It will drive her crazy,” said Madeline with a smile.

Madeline reached across the table and put her hand on Austin’s. With a twinkle in her eye, she said, “Last night you were such a stud.” And with that, she got up from the table and left to go back to Paulette’s to change.

Austin covered the breakfast bill and left to meet with Louis, as the women had ordained the night before. Louis had opened his wine shop, located on the ground floor of their building. It was a very well-appointed shop with hundreds of bottles of wine, wine racks, books on wine, a large variety of cheeses, glasses, and a section in the back with a few paintings by local artists. Austin helped Louis arrange some boxes outside of the shop as the first customers entered the store. Today was going to be a short shopping day, with the town gathering at about two o’clock that afternoon. Austin wandered to the back of the store and looked at the artwork covering the stone walls of the shop. Two of the paintings were striking. One was of the village of Saint-Abban as seen from across the river, and one was of a woman with tears on her face, which evoked an emotion of pain and sympathy. Louis found Austin in the rear of the shop.

“In the mood to buy a painting?” asked Louis.

“These two are beautiful. The one of the woman crying just draws you in and will not let you go.”

“Both of those were painted by Madeline. She is very talented, and every painting she gives me to sell sells very quickly. This one with the woman crying is one she painted several years ago and kept in her apartment until Paulette told her she should sell it. I don’t know if you were aware that she was to be married to a French military officer who was killed in an accident. It took her a long while to get over that loss, and my wife and I believe that this painting was an effort to put the pain behind her and move on. I hope to sell the painting to put the pain out of her life.”

“How much are they?” asked Austin.

“They are five hundred euros each, but we can work out a deal if you are thinking of both.”

“How much does Madeline get?”

“We get 20 percent, and Madeline gets the rest.”

Austin handed Louis his credit card and said, “I will buy both of them at the listed price. I will give you an address in Paris where you can send them. Don’t tell Madeline that I was the one that bought them, okay?”

“Okay.”

Austin looked over several other items in the store and added them to the list to be shipped.

Louis added them to the order and said, “Austin, I am glad you stopped by to help me this morning. You should stop by every day.”

Both men laughed.

Within a few minutes, both Paulette and Madeline came into the store with lunch.

“Lunch will be early this morning because we have to get down to the park to get ready,” said Paulette. “We were so busy talking upstairs that all we have is some cheese, ham, and bread, so you can eat what you want. There will be food at the party this afternoon, so you will be fine. We have to go now.”

Madeline had combed her hair into a ponytail, and again her look was different. Austin again felt an emotion growing inside him. It seemed so natural and very real..

Madeline said to Austin, “Don’t be late. We have a job for you.”

“A job for me?”

“It will be fun. Trust me.”

Austin stayed with Louis for another hour, learning about his business and appreciating the type of person he was. He was not a rich man, but he was content, and Austin respected him.

At about one-thirty Louis and Austin walked to the town’s park, down by the river. A stage was on one side of the park, and a large tent had been erected, covering many tables and a bar. Austin was impressed.

Madeline approached Austin with her camera. “I have a job for you, and it is very important.”

“Will my job be to kiss the girls?”

“No, but it will be easy. I want you to photograph everything possible, so that we have a good, candid record of the party. Make sure that you get a lot of coverage of Father Gladieux and the people around him. Then, when you get time, just roam around and get shots of the kids and people playing the games. You know. Shoot everything. This camera has a lot of memory, and you cannot over-shoot. I will worry about too many pictures later when I review them in Paris. Okay?”

“It sounds easy enough. I just push this button here?”

“Yes, the rest is automatic.”

At two o’clock on the dot, a black car came into the park, to the cheers of those in attendance. Austin guessed that perhaps three hundred were in crowd, and he could see more on the way. The car came to a stop, the doors opened, and the cheering became louder. The driver was the nephew of the priest, and in the back seat were two other priests who were much younger than the elderly Father Gladieux. Gladieux was helped from the car. He knew how to react to the crowd, and quickly he raised his hand to wave to everyone. The priest was quickly seated in a wheelchair and carefully pushed toward the stage. Four men from the crowd lifted the priest in his wheelchair up the few steps to the stage. The crowd cheered as Father Gladieux again raised his hand and waved to the people. A broad smile and a twinkle in his eye showed his excitement. A man who appeared to be the mayor of the town made some minor introductions and then finally got around to introducing the guest of honor, Father Gladieux. The priest held the microphone up to his lips with tears in his eyes.

“I am a happy man today, and I don’t deserve any of this. God has been very good to me, and perhaps someday soon I can thank him face to face. Please know that the one thing I will thank him for is the opportunity to know the good people of Saint-Abban. God promises us eternity in heaven. Today I have learned what heaven will be like, with the fine people from this village.”

The priest hesitated for a moment while every eye in the audience looked toward the stage. Then, with all of the strength he could find, he shouted, “Lets have a party!”

A cheer that might have been heard in Paris exploded from the crowd, and the band began to play. The people of Saint-Abban were hardworking and honest people. Gladieux had influenced them, and it was good. He was escorted from the stage and to a place of honor under the tent. Within minutes, the crowd began singing a song, and a toast was given to honor Gladieux.

The party was under way, and Austin kept shooting photos. The air was full of the aromas of various foods, and two men with a grill were preparing sausages and other meats. Beer and wine were everywhere to fuel the festivities.

In the corner of the tent, a special chair had been placed that allowed Father Gladieux to meet with all of those in attendance. Austin took a strategic position and began to shoot everyone that took a moment to personally meet with the cleric.

“Austin, I think you need something to drink,” said Madeline, handing Austin a large glass of wine. “Isn’t it wonderful? This is the best party, and I am so happy that everyone came, and I am glad that I had the chance to have you here.”

“This is very impressive. Your sister did a great job. But if you keep giving me wine, the pictures will get fuzzy.”

Madeline laughed. “The wine is for you, and not for the camera. You will be fine. I will be saying hello to Father in a minute—make sure you get a lot of good shots when I do, and get some good shots of Paulette and her family too.”

Madeline waited her turn and then sat next to the priest. It was clear that he recognized her and was very glad to see her. Time had taken its toll on his body, but his mind was still sharp. In the short time that she had, Madeline told him where she was living and what she was doing at the Louvre. The mention of the Louvre seemed to spark an old memory in Gladieux. Before saying good-bye, she wanted to introduce Austin to Gladieux. Austin extended his hand to Gladieux, and Madeline did the introductions. Gladieux was gracious, and he was surprised to learn that Austin was an American. Holding both of their hands, the good father blessed Madeline and Austin in English, with the assumption that they were a couple. Suddenly Gladieux remembered that he wanted to talk with Madeline about an important topic. He called his nephew over for a small conference.

“Madeline,” said Gladieux, “many years ago, when I was a boy, a German convoy was driving past Saint-Abban on its way to Paris. American planes flew over and destroyed many of the trucks in the convoy. My father was driving a wagon and saw the attack. Many of the Germans died in the attack, and my father was hoping that there were guns or other things that the resistance could use. In one truck my father was surprised to find crates of art, which he put into the wagon. He brought the boxes to our barn and told my brother and me that these paintings were the treasures of France and that we were to guard them. I forgot that the paintings were in the top of our barn, and following our father’s instructions, my brother protected the paintings for many years. Last year my brother died, and I learned that the boxes were still in the barn. Now that you are in Saint-Abban, perhaps it would be best if you took the paintings to the Louvre and protected them there. My nephew will show you the boxes tomorrow, if that is okay with you.”

The Louvre had established procedures for acquiring art, and taking paintings from barns was not typical, but it did happen. It was not Madeline’s area of expertise, but when Father Gladieux made the request, Madeline could only agree. Madeline saw that people were waiting to say hello to the priest, and she said her good-byes. Madeline promised to keep the priest informed about the paintings and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

The party was a very big success for the little village. Madeline had seen people that she had not seen in many years, and she again felt at home. It was a good feeling. Madeline and Austin got back to Paulette’s home at about eight o’clock. The setting sun and its reflection off the river illuminated the back porch. Louis produced another bucket of chilled wine, and Paulette produced a tray of snacks. The sisters were quite happy about the success of the afternoon, and both had every intention of celebrating the success of the day. Louis kept the wine flowing while trying to educate Austin about the grape and the region in which it was grown. At first Austin enjoyed a little wine, but as the night went on, he was again the victim of too much wine. At about twelve-thirty he was tired from laughing and partying. Something was said about the next day, and Austin said yes. The featherbed in his room consumed his body, and he slept in his clothes. It had been a great night.

The next morning, the sunlight again reflected off the window across the alley and into Austin’s eyes.. He rolled over to hide from the sun, but now the problem was pain—pain in his head, and pain throughout his body. He remembered that there was something he had to remember, but he just couldn’t remember what it was. Then, from an empty corner of his mind, came something about meeting Madeline at ten o’clock this morning. He checked his watch; it was eight. When it is painful to lie in a featherbed, it is time for a cure. Austin rolled out of bed and tried to establish his balance. Walking to the bathroom made his feet hurt, and the bright light of the bathroom was a shock. Austin’s formula of three aspirins and twenty minutes in a hot shower was a beginning. Austin had experienced two nights of drinking French wine, and it was clear to him that this could not continue.

Austin was in the hotel dining room, having a breakfast of coffee and more coffee, when he saw Paulette’s car stop in front of the hotel. His head was better, and the pain was under control, but he was not at his best. Exiting the hotel, he saw Madeline sitting in the front seat and began to laugh. He walked up to her window, still laughing.

“You look worse than I feel,” said Austin.

Madeline looked up at Austin and did not reply.

Paulette leaned over and spoke to Austin through Madeline’s window with her strong French accent. “Please be kind to my sister. She is not feel well.”

Austin got in the back and continued to laugh. He liked Paulette, but he was feeling more intimate with Madeline. He had seen her at her best, and now he saw her at her worst, and he liked both versions.

“So what time did the party break up last night?” he asked, knowing it had gone far into the night.

“My sister and I talked until about three this morning,” replied Paulette.

That explained a lot, but it was fun, and other than the temporary problems that Madeline had, everyone had a good time.

The drive to the barn took about fifteen minutes along a winding road into the countryside. Through his window Austin saw a romantic view of vineyards and cows, with haystacks covering the meadows around him. Gladieux’s nephew was at the barn, as promised. Both the barn and the farmhouse were about as old as the town of Saint-Abban. A tall stone wall surrounded the barnyard, and a pathway led up to the farmhouse. The boxes had been removed from the loft, along with an ample covering of straw. Boxes such as these were a familiar sight to those involved with recovering art.