The Seduction of Water by Carol Goodman

Author:Carol Goodman
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780345463500
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2002-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

When I come into the courtyard the cocktail hour is nearly over. Most of the Art Recovery guests have gone into the dining room. There are only a few stragglers around the fountain, too engaged in heated conversation to tear themselves away for dinner. I notice Gordon, flanked by two men—one I recognize as a curator from the Met, the other is one of the lawyers from Art Recovery.

“If the piece was recovered who would it belong to—the della Rosa family or the church? Because if it’s the church—the same church that did nothing to stop the Holocaust—I can’t see restituting it,” the Met curator is saying as I pass through the courtyard. I catch Gordon’s eye and he winks at me, obviously enjoying the debate his lecture has created.

“So what are you saying? Finders keepers?” the lawyer practically shouts. I slip into the darkened library before they can hear me giggle. Finders keepers? It’s like a third-grade spat on the playground.

“What’s so funny?” I’d thought the library was empty, but a flicker of light draws my attention to the back of the room where Aidan is sitting on a couch behind the slide projector.

“These art people,” I say, threading my way through the tightly spaced folding chairs and perching on the arm of the couch. “I know what they’re arguing about is important, but I can’t help but think they’re more worried about their reputations than returning a few Kiddush cups to their rightful owners.” I look over toward the courtyard windows, but with the lights off in here and the Japanese lanterns illuminating the courtyard, no one can see us. I slip down from the arm of the couch and slide closer to Aidan and lean into him. He puts his arm around my shoulder and runs his fingers along the back of my neck where my hair is still damp from the water I splashed on my face upstairs.

“Where’d you go?” he asks, kissing the back of my neck. “You missed the lecture.”

“Shouldn’t that be my line?”

“You’re not my teacher anymore,” he says, “just my boss.”

I pull away from him and try to look at his face but it’s too dark to make out his expression.

“Does that bother you?”

He shrugs. “I don’t much like all this secrecy. Would it be so awful if people knew about us?”

“Oh come on, Aidan, why would you want to be seen with an old lady like me?” Of course what I want is an assurance from Aidan that I’m far from an old lady, but he refuses to rise to the bait.

“It’s not me who wants this kept a secret, Iris, and you know it. Have you told your man in New Hampshire about us yet?”

“It’s not like Jack and I have a conventional relationship,” I say, regretting as I do the primness of my own voice. You’re not my teacher anymore, he said, and yet that’s what I feel like. The prim schoolmarm laying down the rules.

“Look,” I say, “Harry told me tonight he could see you in a management position—coordinating the corporate retreats.

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