He met her eyes coolly, scanning them for a reaction. She couldn’t hold that gaze. She had to look away. Instead, she stared down at her wrinkled hands. She counted the age spots, scattered across the backs, like constellations.
“I’m familiar with her work,” she mumbled. “Comes with the territory.”
“And what territory is that?” Cosimo asked. She didn’t have to look up to know he was still staring at her. Studying her. She could feel it.
“Collecting old projectors,” Goldie said. She counted to ten slowly in her head, before she risked looking up again. “Old projectors run old films.” She met his eyes again. “In fact, I’m running her films on my old projectors for the film festival.”
“Have you heard anything about the lost footage?” Cosimo asked. He glanced back down at the brochure. “I read that they’re planning to screen some never before seen footage at the festival.” He looked at her conspiratorially. “You haven’t seen it already, have you?”
“I haven’t.” Goldie speared a chunk of French toast and dipped it in syrup. “We haven’t received that footage yet. It might have been a PR stunt on behalf of the organizers. Supposedly, someone wrote to the film institute that they’d found the footage in an old warehouse. Who even knows if it’s real?”
She stuffed the French toast in her mouth and began chewing. She was talking far too much. Next she’d be telling him that the entire event committee was in a state of panic because the lost footage they’d promised had yet to materialize.
“Anyway.” She attempted to change the subject when she finished chewing. “Tell me about this mysterious woman you’ve been missing. Is she from the island? Perhaps I know her.”
No amount of syrup was enough. Her breakfast suddenly tasted bitter in her mouth, tainted as it was with jealousy. How ridiculous she was. An old woman. She’d had her time. She had no right to feel this way, particularly about a total stranger.
“Perhaps you know her.” Cosimo was the one to look away now. He stared down at his plate of untouched food. His expression was troubled. “But I’m afraid to say who she is right now. I’m afraid I’ve wronged her terribly, and if she knew the truth … If she knew I was here, she would hate me.”
“Oh dear.” Goldie laid down her knife and fork and reached out for his beautiful hands again. She held them between her own, wishing there was a way to comfort him. “I can’t imagine that’s true, Cosimo. But whatever happened, tell her the truth. Give her the opportunity to make up her own mind.”
“I’m a coward,” he murmured, still staring down at the table. She squeezed his hands. Finally, he looked back up at her, staring deeply into her eyes. “But I did what I thought I had to do, to ensure her safety. And much as it gutted me to do so, I would do the same again. And again. I would choose her every time.”
“You must have loved her very much,” Goldie said.
She couldn’t tear herself away from the intensity of his gaze. It was almost as if he was looking at that woman while he was looking at her. She didn’t mind being the stand-in. Nobody had stared at her with that kind of love before. Not in 125 years of living, nor in her acting career, had she found herself the focus of such exquisite, nearly feral emotion. It ought to have been frightening. But it made her sad. Sad for the woman, and sad for this strange man, because whatever had transpired to tear them apart, it had probably left both of them far from whole.
Cosimo leaned back and looked away suddenly. He checked his watch and gathered his things. “You’ll tell me if you hear about the lost reels?”
Goldie’s mind flashed on the image she’d thought she’d seen in the Casino theater. The flash of light and the academy leader counting down on the screen. Where exactly had Cosimo been when she fell? Could he have been in the projection booth?
She was being ludicrous. The police had settled on the same explanation as her. It was the work of kids, or the door had been left unlocked and blown open on its own.
But that did not explain the properly threaded film that was still sitting in the projector.She did not know who, besides her, could have loaded it. Or started it running. She could feel the furrow in her own brow deepening as she pondered this.
“Goldie?” Cosimo touched her cheek, gently. She saw he was putting his coat on now. He checked his watch and frowned. “Excuse me a moment?” he said. “Do you think the owners might let me use their phone?” Cosimo reached for his gloves, and as he stood, he put on his hat. Given the shards of daylight that were cutting through the windows up by the front desk where the phone was located, she supposed that was prudent. She gave Cosimo credit for walking around in daylight. She never dared venture into the ocean, not even to go wading in a full body wetsuit.
“I’m sure they’d let you use the phone,” Goldie said. “Especially if it’s not a long distance call.”
While she waited for Cosimo to return, her mind spun yarns with more speed than a spinning wheel. She invented colorful stories about Cosimo as well as twisted ones. She’d had no shortage of imagination. But the more she let her imagination roam free, the more tangled the tales became. None of it felt right.
Cosimo seemed rushed when he returned to the table. He didn’t remove his gloves and hat.
“I’m so sorry, Goldie. I lost track of the time. I don’t like to stay out much past ten. The sun is very strong here and I’ve got to get back to my hotel room before the marine layer burns off.”
“You’re leaving?” Goldie asked. She felt her heart sinking, as if she were being jilted by a date. As if it were her fault, and the hour was just an excuse. How silly for her to pout like that. He was nothing to her. And yet she had to fight the urge to beg him to stay a little longer.
“I’m afraid so.” Cosimo’s eyes were sad. “I wish it weren’t so. I would have liked to spend more time with you this morning, and hear more about your life.”
“It’s fine.” Goldie waved her hand magnanimously. “I’ve got the bill. Go be safe. The sun can be relentless here.”
“Thank you, but I’ve already paid, my dear.” Cosimo removed his hat, and placed a hand on her shoulder. She gazed up at him and he lowered his chin to meet her gaze. As his eyes locked with hers once more, she forgot to breathe again.
When Cosimo bent to kiss her cheek, she could feel his long lashes brush against her. They felt damp, presumably from the fog. Reflexively, she reached up and buried her hand in his hair. It was just as thick and soft as she’d expected.
But just as quickly, the strands were slipping through her fingers, slick as seaweed, and he was sliding away.
Cosimo straightened and donned his hat. He took three steps away before turning back one last time.
