had always had a wonderful understanding of her paintings. She sighed and nodded. “Yes, I guess it does. They're supposed to do something like that to you.”
“But they do something more. I can't explain it. It's as though I already know … well, your work. I don't know. It sounds crazy when I say it.”
But don't you know me? Don't you know these eyes? She found herself wanting to ask him those questions as they quietly drank their coffee and discussed her work.
“I get the terrible feeling you're not going to give in. You won't, will you?” Sadly, she shook her head. “Is it money?”
“Of course not.”
“I didn't think so.” He didn't even mention the enormous contract he had in his pocket. He knew it would do him no good, and perhaps make things worse. “I wish I knew what it was.”
“Just my eccentricities. My way of lashing out at the past.” She was shocked at her own honesty but he didn't seem to be.
“I thought it was something like that”. They were both at peace now as they sat in the little Italian restaurant. There was a sadness to the meeting too, a bittersweet quality Michael couldn't understand. “My mother was very taken with your work. And she's not easy to please.” Marie smiled at his choice of words.
“No, she isn't. Or so I've heard. She drives a very hard bargain.”
“Yes, but she made the business what it is today. It's a pleasure to take over from her. Like a perfectly run ship.”
“How fortunate for you.” She sounded bitter again, and once more Michael didn't understand. In a little nervous gesture he ran his hand across a tiny scar on his temple, and abruptly Marie set down her coffee cup and watched him. “What's that?”
“What?”
“That scar.” She couldn't take her eyes from it. She knew exactly what it was. It had to be from …
“It's nothing. I've had it for a while.”
“It doesn't look very old.”
“A couple of years.” He looked embarrassed. “Really. It was nothing. A minor accident with some friends.”
He tried to brush it off, and Marie wanted to throw her coffee in his face. Son of a bitch. A minor accident. Thanks, baby. Now I know everything I need to know. She picked up her handbag, looked down at him icily for a moment, and held out her hand.
“Thanks for a lovely time, Mr. Hillyard. I hope you enjoy your stay.”
“You're leaving? Did I say something wrong?” Jesus. She was impossible. What the hell was wrong with her now? What had he said? And then he found himself shocked at the look in her eyes.
“As a matter of fact, you did.” She in turn was shocked at her own words. “I read about that accident of yours, and I don't think it was what anyone would call minor. Those two friends of yours were pretty well banged up, from what I understand. Don't you give a damn about anything, Michael? Don't you care anymore about anything but your bloody business?”
“What the hell is wrong with you? And what business is it of yours?”
“I'm a human being, and you're not. That's what I hate about you.”
“You are crazy”.
“No, mister. Not anymore.” And with that, she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving Michael to stare at her. And then, as though pushed by an invisible force, he found himself on his feet and running after her. He had dropped a five-dollar bill on the little marble table and fled in her wake. He had to tell her. He had to … No, it hadn't been a minor accident. The woman he loved had been killed. But what right did she have to know that? He didn't get a chance to tell her, though, because when he reached the street, she had just slipped into a cab.
Chapter 28
She had just gotten to the beach and was setting up her tripod when she suddenly saw the figure approach. His determined step puzzled her until she realized who it was. Michael, damn it He walked down the beach and over the small dune, until he stood in front of her, blocking her view.
“I have something to say to you.”
“I don't want to hear it.”
“That's tough. Because I'm going to tell you anyway. You have no right to pry into my private life and tell me what kind of human being I am. You don't even know me.” Her words had tormented him all through the night. And he had