The American Lady(150)
“It smells wonderful—but all of a sudden I’m not hungry anymore. What a pity . . .” She shrugged apologetically. “Perhaps you should eat it so that it doesn’t go to waste?”
“Me? But . . .” The young man looked at her in astonishment.
“No buts! Sit down here at this table, right now, and have a good meal! I have something very important I have to do in the meantime. It’s a matter of life and death, so to speak,” Wanda pleaded. “And I need your help, or else all is lost!”
“But . . .”
She pushed him farther into the room. She fumbled in her bag for money and said, “Nobody but us needs to know what happened here, that goes without saying. If your boss tries to tell you off for staying away from your post, just blame me! Tell him . . . oh, tell him anything you like! And while you eat, will you please keep an eye on my daughter? She’s just fallen asleep, and I’m sure she’ll be no trouble. I’ll be right back.”
“But . . .”
“Please! Stay here and watch over my child, will you do that for me?” Without waiting to hear his objections, Wanda pushed some money into his hand. Then she ran from the room.
“It’s an emergency. I swear to you that it is!” she pleaded at the reception desk a few minutes later. “I need a connection to the Hotel Riviera in Venice, whatever it costs!”
“It is not a matter of cost, dear lady, rather it’s a technical problem,” the receptionist told her for the second time. “Even if you happened to know the number of the hotel—which clearly you don’t—I still couldn’t call it directly. We would need an operator to put us through. And the telephone exchanges are hardly ever manned at this time of night.”
Wanda wrung her hands. “But couldn’t you at least try? Perhaps . . . if luck’s on our side . . . please!”
She summoned the charming smile that she had worn so easily in a previous life.
The receptionist gave a resigned shrug, picked up the receiver, and began to dial.
33
“Wanda! I’ve been waiting for you for hours! I didn’t leave the hotel all afternoon because I thought perhaps you might arrive earlier than we planned . . . Where are you? At the station? Should I come and meet you? That would be no problem, I know Venice like the back of my hand by now, even if all these canals . . .”
It was so good to hear his voice! Wanda’s hand began to tremble as she held the receiver. She was close to tears.
“Richard, be quiet for a moment and listen! I’m not in Venice. I’m in Bozen.”
“You’re where? This connection . . . I don’t think I heard you right.”
Wanda smiled sadly.
“I’m in Bozen,” she repeated. “On my way back to Lauscha.” And before he could reply, she burst out with all the essential details. That Marie was dead. That she, Wanda, was traveling back to Lauscha with Marie’s newborn baby. She said as little as she could about Franco, and about Marie’s confinement. How she longed to be able to tell him all these dreadful things! But she didn’t feel comfortable explaining it all over the telephone. She also had to blow her nose, since she could hardly breathe through the tears.
For a moment Wanda heard nothing but the crackle of the line. Then Richard said, “I . . . I don’t know what to say. Wanda, my darling Wanda, it must have been dreadful for you! I can hardly believe that Marie . . . I’m so terribly sorry—”
Richard fell silent. But his honest sympathy said more to comfort her than a thousand words.
Then he seemed to pull himself together. He asked how Wanda was holding up. And how Sylvie was. She noticed gratefully that he had remembered Sylvie’s name without prompting.
“I’ll pack my things tonight. Then I’ll catch the first train to Bozen in the morning. You stay right where you are, and we’ll go back to Lauscha together. I’ll take care of everything from now on. You needn’t worry about anything, all right? We’ll make it.”
It was so tempting! It would be so easy, so simple. Wanda took a deep breath.
“No, Richard, I want you to stay in Venice. It’s important for you. I’ve made it this far; I can go the rest of the way as well,” she answered with more confidence in her voice than she truly felt.
“Forget the exhibition! I’ve already made a few useful contacts. And the whole thing’s happening again in two years anyway. But you need me now! Great heavens, when I think that you are on your own there with Sylvie—” He stopped abruptly, then started again hesitantly. “It’s just that . . . tomorrow’s not the best time to leave, but I can certainly come the day after tomorrow. No later than that. And then we—”