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“You look lovely,” I say genuinely appreciative.
“Thank you.” Luisa nods and smiles. “Shall we go down? I’ve booked a table.”
“Should we wait for your papa here?”
“No. Let’s go to the restaurant and wait for him there. Then he doesn’t have to come up, just to go down again.” She had a point.
The New Amsterdam hotel restaurant is ground level. It’s the kind of restaurant that welcomes non-guests. In fact, it is one of the trendiest places in this area to eat. It’s definitely not the sort of place I would go out to eat, if I did go out for dinner.
In the elevator going down, I begin to feel a tad underdressed. My work clothes are just that. And it’s been a while since I bought the navy skirt and cream shirt. I rub the top of my shoes, in turn, on the calf of the other leg in the vague hope that that would make all the difference to the shine, but I know it’s a wasted effort.
The maître-d shows us to our table. It’s set for three people. I glance around warily at the other diners. It’s still relatively early. Not all the tables are occupied.
“Can I get you a drink while you’re waiting for the other guest?” asks the waiter who hands out the menus, lights the candle, and pours out three glasses of water.
“Ah no. I’m fine,” I say almost too quickly.
“I’ll have a Perrier with ice and lemon, thanks,” says Luisa casually perusing her menu.
I feel a little nervous down here in the public space. In the suite, where it had been just Luisa and me, I had felt relaxed in her company. Although unaccustomed to this level of luxury, Luisa brushing my hair had felt so intimate it broke down any sort of barriers there might have been between us. For a moment it didn’t feel as if I was her father’s employee. I sip my water and we chat about things to see and do in New York.
“Sorry, I’m late, mi princessa.” A voice interrupts our conversation. “How was your afternoon? Was it a terrible time?”
“Ciao Papa!” Luisa squeals and jumps up to hug Gianni. “No, Papa. We have had a nice time.” She smiles across the table to me. “I made Olivia pretty. Can you see?”
My eyes lock with Gianni’s. He holds my gaze for a moment longer than is necessary. I look away. He is still looking; I can feel it. “Yes, my darling,” Gianni says after a while. “I think you have made her pretty.”
Suddenly the temperature rises and I’m eager to disengage from the conversation. How awkward and embarrassing. I can’t bear being in this spotlight.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you at the gallery tomorrow, Mr Moretti.” Then turning to Luisa, I add, “It was lovely hanging out with you today, and… thanks for styling my hair.”
“Ah, Olivia. Won’t you join us for dinner? It would be my pleasure… and a thank you for stepping in to look after Luisa at short notice. I very much appreciate it.”
“No. But thanks for inviting me. It was no trouble at all. Luisa is lovely.” I look at my non-shiny shoes, then locate the nearest exit. “Buonanotte to you both and enjoy your dinner.”
“Grazie, Olivia. You speak Italian?”
“No… Only buonanotte, buongiorno, gelato, cappuccino… That’s all, I think.” The waiter comes to take the dinner order and I seize my opportunity to escape. “Ciao, Luisa. Mr Moretti.”
Chapter 12
Gianni
Thetrafficfromtheport was horrendous, but the art pieces are safe and sound, locked in the strong room of the gallery. I am so relieved that they all arrived. And I’m looking forward to having them shown, auctioned off, and delivered to their new owners. I’ll also be extremely happy to see the dollars in the gallery bank account, so I can write a positive report for the board of directors back home.
But that all starts tomorrow. Tonight is all about having a nice time with my girl. I hope she doesn’t blame me too much for running out on her today. Luisa’s first week in NYC and I leave her with a complete stranger. Although Olivia is not really a stranger. She is a trusted employee. And there is something so engaging about her. Even though she is dowdy and seems to be hiding all the time.
When I arrive at The New Amsterdam restaurant, Luisa is there at the table she booked for us. Honestly, she is amazing. She thinks of everything. I believe her self-assurance and innate responsibility come from me being a not-so-great dad. My work schedule is sometimes erratic, so she is forced to take control. She is used to being left with nannies and, where some kids would be negatively affected by this, Luisa takes it in her stride and flourishes. ‘No problem,’ she’ll tell me. It’s normal for her.
As I approach Luisa’s table, I notice how Olivia looks with her hair down. She is almost pretty in the candlelight. She reminds me of the girl I met years ago in Florence on the banks of the Arno. I must be tired. It was a long time ago. I don’t really remember.
“Why don’t you join us for dinner, Olivia?” I ask as I sit at the place set for me.
“Oh no. I have a hungry cat waiting at home for me. You enjoy your evening.” She looks down, then she adds, “It’s been fun, Luisa. I hope to see you again.”
Then the waiter comes to take our order and Olivia says Ciao and is gone before I can try and convince her to stay.
The next morning, the gallery is abuzz when I arrive with Luisa. I tell her that we are not staying long. But I can’t help but be excited to see the items of the precious consignment that will soon be exhibited in the gallery.
