Gaudi Afternoon by Barbara Wilson

Author:Barbara Wilson [Wilson, Barbara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780931188893
Publisher: Seal Press
Published: 1999-09-15T05:00:00+00:00

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Chapter 10

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When I called the apartment at La Pedrera later that afternoon April answered, warm and a bit breathy.

“Yes, Frankie called. They’re going out for a drink in a little while.”

“That’s great,” I said encouragingly. “I’m sure they’ll work something out.”

“I don’t know,” murmured April. “It’s often hard to know what the right thing to do is.”

“I’m sure it’s a difficult situation for you.” I was sympathetic, pretending the idea had just struck me. “Look, why don’t I come over while Ben is gone? I’m right in the neighborhood. We could talk.”

April appeared to hesitate.

“I’m right in the neighborhood,” I repeated, and then, more daringly, “You know, I’ve never forgotten that foot massage you gave me. It was one of the great sensual experiences of my life.”

I couldn’t be any bolder than that without risking humiliation.

But April seemed to like it. “Well,” she purred throatily. “I don’t see why you couldn’t come by. Around seven-thirty? Ben is meeting Frankie at seven. And we can talk.”

The bank that now owned La Pedrera was experimenting with all-night illumination. Huge klieg lights shone onto the wavy façade. It looked like a giant seashell stranded in a pool of phosphorescence. How could anyone inside sleep at night?

The portero in the Provença entry was still on duty. I gave him my name and he called up to the apartment for permission to let me ascend.

“It’s wonderful that my friends are able to stay in such a nice place,” I volunteered. “Especially el Señor Kincaid. How long has he been here now? Two years, three?”

The portero appeared to nod.

“Funny, he doesn’t seem like an American,” I murmured.

“Because he’s not,” said the portero. “He’s from Eastern Europe somewhere. He and his friends.”

If this guy thought there were women like Ben and April in Krakow or Prague he was sadly mistaken. But why had Hamilton told him such a thing?

The portero held the elevator door open and I gave him a tip.

It was a short trip up to the second floor but a trip back in time. The elevator was finished in walnut, with a curved seat and an art nouveau mirror. The elevator opened into a small foyer off which there were only two doors. One of them was open.

“Cassandra,” April took both my hands and drew me inside. “How good, how really good to see you.”

I felt my blood tingle slightly. April hadn’t let go of me and her hands, like those of many masseuses, were dry and strong and very much alive. She was wearing a gauzy Moroccan caftan with nothing much underneath. Not that you could see through it, but the shape of her large body was pretty clear and deliciously round and full. Her black hair was newly washed and very frizzy around her full face; it gave off a dizzying odor of soap and fragrant oils. Crystals and rose quartz hung down between her breasts.

“It’s great to see you too,” I said weakly. “Nice place Hamilton has here.”

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