Ch 85 Dinner with friends

From the outside, the restaurant gave no sign of being anything special but, inside, the exposed sandstone walls, weathered wood paneling and provincial decor gave the place a rustic charm. Bonnie and Isabelle had no sooner crossed the threshold than a server came out from behind the bar, and, greeting Isabelle warmly by name, ushered them to a table at the far end of the dining room where Sébastien was already standing to receive them. He kissed his wife hello, and, after asking if he might, saluted Bonnie familiarly on both cheeks. "I'm so glad you were free for dinner," he said. "How are you? You look wonderful."

"Thanks. You're looking pretty trim, yourself." Unlike Isabelle, who looked to have gained a few pounds, Sébastien was noticeably slimmer. He'd lost the beginnings of a tire around his middle, was thinner in the face, and no longer sported puffy bags beneath his eyes. "Marriage appears to agree with you."

He chuckled. "That it does." He pulled out a chair for Isabelle, and then, on his other side, did the same for Bonnie. "What happened to Baer?" he asked, resuming his seat. "Is he not coming after all?"

"He'll be along directly," Isabelle assured him. "We left him fielding a few last compliments and questions."

"Ah! Well, then, while we wait…" He motioned to the waiter who, having as yet only one other table to keep an eye on, was hovering nearby. "How would you like to try one of the house's signature cocktails, Bonnie? They've a Truffle Bloody Mary, a Black Truffle Martini, and your favorite, Isabelle…"

"A Truffle Vodka Fizz," she supplied on cue. "Very refreshing. I recommend it."

"I'll have that, then."

The waiter inclined his head. "And for monsieur and madame? The usual?"

Sébastien confirmed the order, and the waiter turned away only to be brought up short by Bear's making his way toward the table. Sébastien broke into a smile, and rose to his feet. "Baer! Good of you to come."

"Beaumont," Bear said, taking the hand Sébastien held out. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Not at all," Sébastien said genially. "We've just ordered drinks. Please! Take a seat, and tell Pierre here what you'll have." Bear opted for a Kir, and, once he was ensconced in a chair, Sébastien continued, "Isabelle was just saying your talk was a great success. I'm sorry I had to miss it."

"It went well enough," Bear allowed.

"So modest, Rudolph!" Isabelle protested. "You gave a clear and thorough overview of the painting's treatment with just the right amount of technical detail, not an easy balance to achieve, as I know only too well." She laid a light hand on his arm. "And I have to say I appreciate your acknowledging my assistance on the project. That was kind."

Bear shook his head. "It was no more than you deserved. Your insight on some of the treatment issues was invaluable."

"I've yet to hear, Bonnie," Sébastien put in, "how your presentation went, but, knowing you, I don't doubt you were brilliant."

Bonnie had to smile at his gallantry. "I think 'competent' is a fairer assessment."

"Bah! Pay no attention, Sébastien! She did an excellent job, and I'm not alone in that opinion. Didn't I hear your own Dr. Cummings say you'd done the Jeffersonian proud? And, as I told you, the colleague I was sitting with — Philippe Jourdain — was very favorably impressed, and he's not an easy man to please."

Sébastien cocked an eyebrow. "Jourdain was there?"

"Surprising, I know. He usually can't be bothered to attend these meetings." Her brow creased as Sébastien continued to hold her gaze. "What're you thinking?"

"Only that the great man's always being tapped to sit on some selection committee or other." He turned to Bonnie, and asked, "Did you, by chance, follow my recommendation and apply for the Louvre Fellowship?"

Since submitting her application, Bonnie'd been occupied with so many other concerns, she hadn't given it a thought. "I did, yes."

"Well, there you have it, then! Mystery solved! Jourdain was there to take your measure, Bonnie, which has to mean you've made the short list of candidates. And you impressed him! That calls for a celebration! Pierre, mon ami," he called to the returning waiter, "let's have those drinks!" Pierre set them down, and Sébastien, taking up his glass, proposed, "A toast! To Baer and Bonnie: congratulations on your triumphs at the podium, and to Bonnie, especially, for winning over Philippe Jourdain and improving her chance at the fellowship!"

Bonnie joined in the clinking of glasses, but her smile was, in truth, more forced than wholehearted. Her initial ambivalence about applying for the fellowship hadn't changed; if anything, she was less sure than ever that she wanted the honor, and so the thought that she might have, inadvertently, strengthened her position brought her no pleasure. Pierre returned with a platter of truffle oil crostini, compliments of the chef, and handed menus around, providing Bonnie with a welcome new focus for her attention. In the event, they all chose to start with a green salad liberally sprinkled with truffle shavings, and pasta dishes in cream sauce for the main course. A Sauvignon Blanc was selected to counter the richness of the pasta and Sébastien asked as well that a bottle of sparkling mineral water be brought to the table.

Once Pierre had stepped away, Isabelle expressed her regret at having had to skip the previous evening's reception. "We were planning to attend, of course, and really looking forward to it, but…" She lifted her shoulders in a rueful shrug. "I was just too tired."

"And I wouldn't go without her," Sébastien said. "By all accounts, though, the Louvre did things up right. What did you think? Was the party sufficiently grand?"

Between them, Bonnie and Bear filled the Beaumonts in on everything they'd missed. They finished their aperitifs; the salads arrived. Bonnie's was so delicious, she couldn't help but exclaim over it which gratified Sébastien no end. Bear was less openly enthusiastic, but she noticed his plate was no less clean than hers when Pierre came back to retrieve them.

"I was given today and tomorrow off to participate in the conference," Isabelle said, as Sébastien saw to pouring Bonnie and Bear more wine. "But I must confess this morning I played truant and went, instead, to the Louvre first thing to see the Coupes d'amour together."

"I tagged along," Sebastien said. "Just opened the gallery late."

"And what did you think?" Bonnie prompted.

"Well, I know Henri had his reservations about any but French conservators touching the painting, but, honestly, I don't think we could have improved on your work. Sincerely, hats off to you both."

"Thank you," Bear said, and Bonnie, "That means a lot, coming from you, Isabelle."

"And, as for seeing the paintings side-by-side," she continued, "I don't know why it should be, but it was an emotional moment for me, as if I were seeing twins reunited after a long separation." She shook her head. "Silly."

"For my part," Sébastien said, "being able to compare the two first hand confirmed what I originally thought about the female figures. Do you remember, Bonnie?"

She nodded. "You said in your opinion the one in our painting was lovelier because she looked less like someone's ideal of beauty and more like a flesh-and-blood girl."

"That's right." His lips curled into a wry smile. "And, because your memory's so sharp, you won't have forgotten I also told you trying to identify the model would be a huge waste of time. But you did it, by God!" He picked up his glass of water and saluted her. "I underestimated you — twice! — Miss Bonnie Booth-Hodgins, but, believe me, that's not a mistake I'll be making again!"

Given his way, Sébastien would've drawn Madeleine's whole story out of Bonnie while they tucked into their pasta, and she would likely have indulged him if not for her concern about boring Bear. She answered a few questions to be polite and then refused to say more on the grounds that she didn't want to ruin her next day's presentation for him and Isabelle.

"All right," Sébastien conceded good-naturedly. "Subject closed. Just, tell me one last thing, if you would: is it true that the girl who posed for La Coupe d'amour and the one in the Blanchard paintings are one and the same?"

Bonnie gasped. "How'd you find that out? It wasn't in the summary I provided for the program."

"That bumpkin Lavallière told me. He called me up last week to gloat about how smart he'd been not to let me cheat him out of a fortune with my low-ball offer. He's convinced more than ever — thanks to you, I believe — that he's sitting on a gold mine, and he took particular satisfaction in informing me that, since he's taking his business elsewhere, I won't be cashing in with him."

"Oh, Sébastien," Bonnie said. "I am sorry!"

"Don't be. It's not your fault the man's a jackass. That said, it's true a friendly tip about the paintings wouldn't have gone amiss." He smiled drily, removing any sting from the words. "But I appreciate you had other things on your mind."

Pierre stopped by the table to check on them, and, reassured that they were enjoying their meal and not in need of any more bread or a second bottle of wine, continued on to other diners. Sébastien took advantage of the interruption to pour what remained of the Sauvignon Blanc into Bear and Bonnie's glasses, and when Bonnie would have protested this generosity, she noticed that neither Isabelle's glass nor Sébastien's own needed refilling. The level of wine in their glasses seemed not to have changed, and Bonnie, thinking back, couldn't remember seeing either of her hosts take so much as a sip. They'd been drinking mineral water exclusively — Sébastien had even toasted her with his water glass. Her first thought was that they hadn't found the wine to their taste, but then she recalled that neither of them had tried it, and that Sébastien had sung its praises when ordering. She was still puzzling over the conundrum when Isabelle made a valiant attempt to stifle a yawn. Isabelle, who'd put on a little weight, wasn't drinking her wine and was exhausted in the early evening… Bonnie's eyes flew wide and her mouth dropped open.

Isabelle met her dumbstruck gaze with dancing eyes. "Bravo," she said, and, turning to Sébastien, laid a gentle hand on his wrist. "Chéri, I do believe our little cat is out of the bag." She nodded to Bonnie and to Bear who, Bonnie saw with surprise, was watching Isabelle with a knowing smile.

Sébastien looked from one of them to the other and laughed. "I ought've known you'd figure it out!" He gave his wife a loving smile, and, taking her hand, said, "Mes amis, since you appear to have divined our secret, I take great joy in confirming that, yes, Isabelle and I are expecting a happy event in about five months' time."

So great was her delight, Bonnie nearly jumped out of her chair to hug each of the Beaumonts in turn. For decorum's sake, she restrained herself to squeezing Sébastien's hand and saying in a fervent voice how very happy she was for them. Bear kissed Isabelle's cheek, and, reaching a hand across the table to Sébastien, congratulated them warmly on their wonderful news.

"Thank you," Isabelle said, radiant with the glow all pregnant women were said to have. "We're ecstatic, of course. And terrified! Conceiving naturally at my age…! Well, it's nothing short of a miracle, and we feel so very blessed. Still, it's a high-risk pregnancy, with all the anxiety that entails."

"You're past your first trimester," Bear observed. "That's got to be encouraging."

"Yes, the worst danger of miscarrying is over, and the screenings we've had done show no sign of abnormalities, thank heaven. It's still early days, but, so far at least, all indications are our boy's developing normally."

"A boy!" Bonnie cried. "You're having a son?"

Sébastien nodded, a sudden glint of tears in his eyes. "I'd given up hope of ever becoming a father. Thought it just wasn't in my cards, you know? And now…" He shook his head, momentarily overcome. "I'm one helluva lucky bastard. Life's so good, some days I have to pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming."

They had, out of caution, taken none of their friends or family into their confidence, and so it fell to Bonnie and Bear to share the elation, excitement and worry they'd kept bottled up for months. In time, Pierre returned to clear away the main course dishes and offer to bring the dessert menu. Bear declined for himself; he regretted having to leave, he said, but as he'd explained, he had another appointment. He rose, begged Isabelle to remain seated, touched her shoulder in farewell, and, rounding the table to shake Sébatien's hand, thanked him for a meal he would not soon forget. He turned to go, and, his gaze meeting Bonnie's, he opened his mouth, shut it again and then, with a nod good-bye, said, "See you tomorrow, Bonnie," and was gone.

His departure was followed by an awkward beat of silence, and then Sébastien was calling for the menus, and urging Bonnie to try the crème brûlée truffée or, if she'd had her fill of truffles, the trio of sorbets. Though her appetite had deserted her, she allowed herself to be persuaded, and was rewarded by Sébastien's putting himself out to entertain her with his latest exploits in art sales and acquisitions. He was sorry that her other commitments on this visit left her no time to tour his gallery, but he consoled himself with the thought that, once she returned to take up the Louvre fellowship, he'd have no shortage of opportunities to show her around.

Bonnie was obliged to shake her head at him. "I'm hardly a shoo-in, you know."

"That's as may be, but my money's on you, and if I'm wrong and they foolishly choose a different recipient, you can always come work for me, either as an in-house conservator or as a freelancer. There's nothing I'd like better. Think about it."

The bill was finally called for, and, at Isabelle's suggestion, she and Bonnie left Sébastien to settle it and repaired to ladies' room to touch up their lipstick. They were at the sinks, washing their hands in companionable silence when, looking up, Bonnie caught Isabelle's eyes in the mirror. They exchanged smiles, but Isabelle's was fleeting, and her manner suddenly uncertain. "Bonnie…" she began, only to hesitate before rushing on, "I know it's none of my affair, but… well… is everything all right between you and Rudolph? I couldn't help but notice you were stiff with each other all night and not really communicating. Have you had a disagreement? A falling out?"

Isabelle's concern was so genuine and so entirely unexpected, Bonnie had no defense against it. Tears brimmed in her eyes, making any denials she might have attempted useless. Isabelle, seeing her distress, apologized profusely, but Bonnie waved the words off, and, gathering herself, brushed away the tears. "Bear and I… Well, as you saw, we're really not on the best of terms right now. Haven't been for weeks, actually." A lump rose in her throat, threatening to choke her. "It's been hard."

Isabelle stepped closer, and chafed Bonnie's arm sympathetically. "What happened?"

"I don't know. That's the worst of it. Ever since we finished La Coupe d'amour, he's been… not hostile, exactly, but cool and reserved, as if I've offended him in some way. And I haven't, Isabelle! Or, at least, if I have, I don't know what I did."

Isabelle sought Bonnie's gaze and held it. "You've thoroughly examined your conduct? And you're sure you have nothing to reproach yourself?" At Bonnie's nod, she looked thoughtful. "Could someone be poisoning Rudolph's mind against you? A jealous co-worker, perhaps?"

Bonnie had never considered the possibility, but she rapidly dismissed it. "I don't think so."

"Well, then — I'm no psychologist, Bonnie — but it seems to me, if you're not at fault — which I take on faith — and there's no third party interfering, there has to be something going on with Rudolph, some personal issue he's dealing with that might even have nothing to do with you. If that is the case, then, all you can do, unfortunately, is put up with him as best you can while he works things through." She smiled kindly, and continued somewhat shyly, "With my history, I'm the last person who should be offering advice…"

"Please," Bonnie urged. "I'd be grateful."

"Well, if I could go back in time and counsel my younger self, I'd tell her: don't get discouraged. Don't let frustration or despair get you down, and make you do something you'll regret. Hold your ground, stay the course, whatever analogy you prefer."

Bonnie smiled faintly. "In my family, we call it 'be patient and endure.'"

"Ah! Then, you already know what to do! And, speaking of patience, Sébastien will be wondering what's become of us." She enveloped Bonnie in a brief embrace, and, stepping back, said, "Don't lose courage, chérie. If it helps at all, I have every confidence you and Rudolph will weather this storm and come out the stronger for it on the other side."

"Really?"

Isabelle opened the door, and let Bonnie precede her through it. "Oh, yes. I've not the smallest doubt in the world."

In the taxi on the way back to her grandmother's, Bonnie drew comfort and strength from Isabelle's assurance. Along the route, spotlit monuments stood out against the black Paris night and Bonnie's spirits were brighter as well. She looked forward to the morrow.