“Do you think rich people want to get richer out of greed or ego?” I asked him before he left.
He thought a moment and said, “Probably both. My father says when you’re satisfied, you’re ready for the long sleep.”
“So he’s always dissatisfied?”
“Let’s say always hungry. Which reminds me. I want to take you to another of my favorite restaurants tonight, okay?”
“I can be hungry,” I said.
He laughed, but I could see him looking at me a little askance, wondering why I was putting this new sharpness in my voice.
We had dinner again that night at a restaurant in Villefranche-sur-Mer down by the water. As it was everywhere else we had dinner, the staff, managers, and owners knew him and had a certain table reserved for him.
“Don’t you ever eat at home?” I asked.
“When I’m sick,” he replied. “How could I not want to take you out, Roxy? You make me look good.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re accepting a compliment? No wisecracks?”
“Just this once,” I joked. “Because this time, I’m sure it’s true.”
He laughed so hard everyone at the restaurant turned to look at us. I could fall in love with him, I admitted to myself. I wondered if he was considering any long-term relationship between us now as our time together was winding down quickly. Was I a naive fool to think that marriage wasn’t impossible? I decided to test the water.
“I don’t know how much longer I’ll be here,” I said, knowing what he probably had suspected. “It might be a matter of a few days.”
“Oh?”
“Mrs. Brittany is coming tomorrow. I might go back with her.”
“I see.”
He was pensive a moment, and then someone he knew waved, and the moment seemed to float off like a balloon caught in the wind. He didn’t voice any regrets or predict any terrible heartbreak if I should leave as quickly as I suggested. I didn’t want to believe he wouldn’t feel that. I concluded instead that it was too painful for him to talk about it.
The following morning, I woke up realizing that this was the day Mrs. Brittany was to arrive. No one had called to let me know when she would be here. I hurried down to breakfast and was just sipping my first cup of coffee when the phone rang. Margery brought it to the table.
“It’s Mrs. Brittany,” she said.
“Oh? Thank you,” I said, taking the receiver quickly, thinking she might be calling me from the plane.
“Hello, Mrs. Brittany. Are you close?”
“I’m not able to come over there just now, Roxy,” she said. There was something in her tone of voice that was unusual. She sounded weak, her voice wobbly.
“Why not?”
“It’s Sheena,” she said after a short pause.
“What about her? Was she in an accident?”
“She’s had a setback. I took her for her six-month examination, and the results of her tests . . .”
“What?”
“The cancer has returned. It’s more aggressive than we had expected.”
“Oh, no. Will she be all right?”