A Nearly Perfect Copy - By Allison Amend Page 0,92
pants, shook her hand, introducing herself as Catherine.
She put her hand on Elm’s shoulder, steering her toward the wing of the mansion opposite the labs she’d seen earlier. They walked down a long hall. Tapestries hung on the wall, geometric and vegetable patterns. At each column a plaster bust stared dully out. Elm recognized them as copies of Greek Kori, standard-issue. “We have rules that we ask that you respect, for the security, you know. If you encounter another client, which should not occur, please, you will not look at her or talk to her. She will do the same.”
“Are there others?”
Catherine didn’t answer. “This is yours.” She reached past Elm and opened the door.
Inside was a spacious room. A four-poster bed stood against the far wall, so high there was a small step stool next to it. The wallpaper had tiny fleur-de-lis in stripes, the curtains were velvet. Elm crossed to the opposite end of the dark room. There was a secretary desk, a phone with no buttons. In the fireplace, ashes shifted. Elm reached next to the window and pulled the cord to open the drapes. The windows were shuttered except for the top third. Light flooded in, but she couldn’t see out.
“You’ll find the … um … to open for air,” Catherine said, demonstrating the lever that tilted the window out. “It’s not for viewing, you know.”
Elm sighed. She was, actually, trapped. She panicked for a moment: What if she died? What would Colin and Moira do?
Her face must have blanched, because Catherine laid a reassuring hand on her forearm. “You look scared,” she said. “Don’t worry. I know it seems like cinema here, but it is a very normal place. We just have security, for obvious reasons. You will very much enjoy it, I think. Most women do. A vacation! Here you have the television with cable international, and a computer.” She pointed to the rolltop desk. “We ask you use our computer because we have a special server. The same with the cell phone. You pick up the phone and tell us the number and we will call it. It’s all protection!” She smiled, showing a gap between her front teeth.
“You have the refrigerator here, and fruit and also cheese,” she continued. “Here is the menu for the food. If you want something special, let us know with advance, okay?”
“Sure,” Elm said. She felt her lower lip tremble.
“Awww, pauvre petite,” Catherine said. “Viens, je t’embrasse,” and she pulled Elm into her bony shoulder for a practiced hug. Elm let herself be held for a moment, then withdrew, rubbing her eyes.
“I tell them to bring your bag, yes?” Catherine smiled. She patted Elm on the shoulders and shut the door softly behind her.
Elm went to sit on the bed and had to use the stool to climb onto it. Her feet dangled. She leaned back and found that the canopy above the bed had been painted. It was a Baroque scene of cherubs and nymphs, not one style or time in particular. Oddly, this made her laugh, this ignorant parody of art. Relax, she told herself. You’re just getting in vitro fertilization. It was practically a hobby in New York.
Someone knocked at the door. “Excuse, Madame.” The porter was back with her overnight bag, which he placed on a valet near the desk. “Thank you.”
Elm stood up. Should she tip him? This wasn’t a hotel.… Before she could decide he’d left. She opened the suitcase. Someone had obviously been through it and wanted her to know it. The clothes had been refolded, much better than she’d folded them herself.
Elm supposed they had to check everyone. After all, she could be a journalist, or a government agent. How were they supposed to know? Except that they seemed to know everything.
She laughed at herself. “They.” Like some spy organization or an evil empire. When the phone next to her bed rang, she had unpacked and was watching a show on a nature channel in French about African elephants. The narrator was speaking too fast for her to understand, but the camera told the story: elephants have families, trek long distances, get killed by poachers, mourn their dead.
“Bonjour, Madame Howells.” The voice on the other end pronounced it “ow-ELS.” “You are installing all right?”
“Yes, very comfortable, thanks.” She recognized Michel’s voice.
“We would like to perform an ultrasound, to look, yes? I will have someone come for you in five minutes, all right? There is a robe in your armoire.”