The Seven Turns of the Snail's Shell: A Novel (28 page)

Anna’s C-C looked at her novel sitting in front of him. He picked it up. For ten years she had been gone from his life. Had she really wanted to find him again? He took out his pack of cigarettes and shook another one forward. As he pulled it out of the pack and put it in his mouth, the dog under the table raised its head, put one paw over C-C’s foot, and gently nudged his knee with his big, brown nose. Remembering Anna’s objections to his smoking the evening under the Eiffel Tower, C-C took the unlit cigarette out of his mouth. He studied it at length. The dog watched him intently.

“You’re both right,” he said as he tossed the whole pack of cigarettes into the trash can by the bar.

CHAPTER 50

I
t was after New Year’s when Monique finally returned C-C’s call.

“Anna has announced her
fiançailles
, her engagement,” she told him in a cool, unfeeling voice. “Don’t attempt to contact her again.”

CHAPTER 51

Southern France, Eight Months Later

A
nna steered the rental car, a Peugeot with no air conditioning, from N202 right onto the D614. The hot, dry
provençal
wind blowing through the open windows smelled of lavender and herbs. Beside her on the seat rested Nathalie’s tin biscuit box. On top was the letter from Guy de Noailles, which she had received at the beginning of August. She had reread it several times, enough so she knew it by heart. In her mind, she went over it again.

Dear Anna
,

I am writing to you from Castagniers. It is the month of August, and I decided to have Jean-Paul drive me to the South. Maria and Puccini have gone to Italy to visit her family. Jean-Paul will join her there, then come back to drive me home to Obernai at the end of August.

How are you, and how is Mark? I see that your next book has been introduced in France. Félicitations!

Now, the good news from Castagniers. It is with great pleasure that I report to you that Diamanté has returned to his restaurant. I was quite astonished to find out that he had been here for some time and had not informed me, but I forgive him. He has been busy falling in love. Yes, in love. The old “con.” Elise has moved here from Paris, and she and Diamanté are planning to be married the third Sunday of the month. Too old for that, I tell them, but they insist that they are good for each other. She calls him “Lobo” (Portuguese for “wolf”). And, I might add, she has given a wonderfully feminine touch to the restaurant.

My son-in-law, Jacques, manages the restaurant. It is called “Ajaccio” after the capital city of Corsica.

The other surprise I received was that my handsome grandson, Charlie, is here also. Having decided not to return to the hospital in Paris, he has become the town’s only doctor. I don’t know the reason, but I think that it is better for him being here.

Forgive me if I ramble. I am an old man, too, but not so foolish as to fall in love anymore. There are many things I want you to know. First of all, I am sure that you are wondering about whether I have told Diamanté about you and your visit to Obernai. The answer is yes. But the surprise to me was that he already knew about you. My grandson, who I was pleasantly surprised to learn knew you (not that you needed to have told me), had informed him of your whole story, at least what he knew of it. I understand that Diamanté was quite taken aback at first and not sure whether he was up to meeting you at all. He can be a hard one, but now, I think my old friend has changed his mind. I believe that if you were to come for the wedding, he and Elise would be delighted. I too would be delighted to have the opportunity to see you again. Consider it seriously, ma chère.

There is something I have to confess, Anna. When I recounted your visit to Obernai, I accidentally let slip about your nice young man, Mark, being with you. Charlie was visibly unnerved by the news. He is not one to show his emotions, as you must know, so I felt compelled to discuss it with him privately afterward. He told me the story about Nathalie’s tin box, the lost letters and losing you…twice, as he put it. I only tell you this because I am sorry to hear about the tragic nature of your relationship. Jacques should not have discarded your letters. (Incidentally, Charlie told me that his father has apologized to him for that and other affronts as well. They have a good relationship now, a respectful one.)

That is the news from the south of France, dear Anna. If I don’t see you here, then perhaps you will come visit me in Obernai again soon.

I remain, respectfully, your old friend and admirer, Guy de Noailles

D614 had become narrow and winding. “Serpentine” was the word Anna thought of to describe it as it twisted and climbed on its way to Castagniers. There was not a lot of traffic. Anna came to a bend in the road, pulled over, and got out of the car. She looked out over a dramatic vista softly visible through the summer haze. Below her was a sheer drop to a ravine. Beyond it, tranquil villages with terracotta roofs dotted the soft green hills, and vast acres of lavender planted in long parallel lines filled the valley.

“I hope this phone still works up here,” she said to herself as she punched in Monique’s telephone number on the cell phone she had rented at the airport in Nice. Monique and Georges were spending the month, as expected, at their
bastide
near Grasse, not far from Nice.

“
Allô
?”

“Monique?”

“Anna! Have you arrived,
chérie
?”

“Yes. I’m almost at Castagniers. It’s so beautiful here. So peaceful.”

“When will we see you?”

“I’ll call you.”

“Anna, wait, there’s something I have to tell you, now that you are so close to seeing him.”

“What’s that?” The reception was not good; there was a lot of static.

“He called the apartment in Paris the same day that you left in December.”

“Who did?”

“C-C.”

“C-C called? And you didn’t tell me? What did he want?”

“I was out. The housekeeper answered the phone. She said that he asked to speak with you. She told him that you had already departed. He left his cell phone number with a request that I return his call. I didn’t call him back until after the first of the year. When I did…it was after you had announced your engagement to Mark,
chérie
.
Alors
, I told him not to attempt to call you again.”

Anna was silent, thinking.

“Monique, did you tell him I was engaged?”

“Yes, of course. You know I never liked him. I really wanted to wound him, you know, like he had wounded you. I’m afraid I was playing the anti-heroine. I really was
cruelle
.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?”

“I know I should have. I’m truly sorry. It is not like me to keep such things to myself. I’ve had insomnia for months over it. I didn’t think it would matter, until…well, now that you are going to see him again, you should at least be aware that he did try to contact you.” There was more static. Monique’s voice was barely audible.

Anna was forgiving of her friend. “You’re cutting out, Monique. I appreciate how difficult it must be for you to tell me this now.”

She could barely hear Monique say, “I hope everything works out,
chérie
. I’ll be thinking about you.
Bonne chance
!” and she was gone completely.

“
Au revoir
,” Anna said to the dead phone as she lobbed it onto the passenger seat.

A soft breeze tossed her hair as she stood for a moment, soaking up the sun. It had been almost a year since she had arrived in France to search for C-C. She had finished the book
Pas de Deux
since returning to California in December. It had been released to the market quickly. Harry had taken a risk and had several hundred copies in English shipped to Europe with the first printing. They had all sold.
That
, she reflected now,
is the only good thing about my life that has happened since Mark and I broke up
. Their relationship had seemed so perfect when he had presented her with the beautiful engagement ring on a stormy December evening in Paris. They had had a romantic few days, after which they had flown home and announced their engagement to his family. Everything was going well for them. She was working feverishly on her book. It seemed like life couldn’t get better.

Then, in June, things had started to unravel. She was on a whirlwind book tour in Seattle, the next-to-the-last stop before returning to California. She had called Mark before going to bed. The subject of a date for the wedding came up again. He had been pressing her to fix a date. Now his mother was in on it also.

“Mama wants to know if October is good. She’s wanting to begin the planning.” It was understood that the wedding would be at his parents’ immense Bel-Air estate. Anna had wanted a small, intimate wedding, but the Zennelli clan was large, and Catholic. A big Italian gathering would be required, she had been told.

“I…I don’t know, Mark. I’m tired. Let’s talk about it when I get home.”

“Christ, Anna. You keep putting me off every time I bring it up lately. One would think that you don’t want to get married.”

“Oh, Mark. I just don’t want to talk about it now.”

“It’s because you’re not sure, isn’t it?”

“Look. I mean it. Let’s not talk about this over the phone. I’ll be in San Francisco tomorrow. Harry’s got dinner lined up for the evening. It’ll be late, so don’t expect me to call. Can you pick me up at LAX at noon on Thursday?”

There was silence, then he said, “Sure, course.”

Things had gotten more heated when she arrived in Los Angeles. When the subject of the wedding came up again, Mark accused her of holding back on him.

“There’s something you haven’t told me, Anna,” he had said. “I’ve sensed it ever since Paris.”

“What…what is it that you’ve sensed?”

“I thought it was because you hadn’t found your grandfather, that you were preoccupied with that.”

“Well, that’s part of it. It’s …it’s just that I…”

“You what?”

“I don’t know precisely how to tell you.” She hadn’t meant to hurt him.

“Tell me what?”

“That there was someone else. Someone before you.”

Mark had looked confused. “Someone. You mean a man?”

“Yes.”

“Whom you were in love with?”

“Yes, I guess…”

“You guess?”

“Mark, let it go. It was a long time ago.”

“In France?”

She hadn’t answered him. He had understood, she now realized. She had deceived herself into believing that she was having trouble making the commitment because she was tired from the book tour and the business arrangements for her new book. Harry and she had been talking seriously about the subject of her next book, the so-called “Lady Di assassination.” They had submitted a proposal to the publisher that was under consideration. Harry was sure she was going to get a sizeable advance to proceed.

“Yes, but it’s over. Mark, it’s just that there’s so much pressure on me right now. Harry’s pressuring me on the new book. Give me time. I’ll look at the calendar. Seriously.” But every time she looked at the calendar, she backed away from a date. The subject became more and more heated between them.

“Maybe we ought to forget the whole wedding thing for a while. Just live together,” she had suggested at one point. That had met with a deadly silence. She knew he wanted more than anything to get married and start a family. It’s what she thought she had wanted, too.

“You’ve got to get over C-C,” Monique had told her.

“But I don’t know what happened. I don’t know where he is,” she had whined. “He was into something dark. I know it. The way he ran that night. He was frightened. I called Lucie in Rouen. She didn’t seem to know anything. I couldn’t reach Elise in Paris. He seems to have just disappeared.”

“Time to get on with your life,
chérie
,” Monique had told her.