Page 13 of Palazzo
“How do I stop him?” Gian Battista always had all the answers for her, to protect the family, but he didn’t this time. Their father had left them wide open to exactly what Luca was trying to do with the Bayards. Fortunately, Olivier was an honest man and wouldn’t do it. He had too much respect for Cosima, and the house, to buy into the business deceitfully or exploit the sisters as a result of their brother’s greed.
“You can’t stop him,” Gian Battista said bluntly. “Unless he makes an agreement with you now not to sell, except to you and Allegra, or with your written consent.” He thought of something then. “You pay him an allowance, don’t you? Do you still?” Gian Battista had disapproved of the allowance ever since Luca turned twenty-one. He thought Luca should have a job, in the family business or elsewhere, but not collect an allowance to do nothing except spend money and get into trouble.
“I do,” Cosima confirmed.
“That’s not in the will. It’s at your discretion.” Gian Battista knew their father’s will by heart and had written it at Alberto’s request just as he wanted it. “Tell him there will not be another penny until he signs an agreement that he cannot sell his shares to anyone outside the immediate family, you and Allegra in other words, without your written consent. That will tie his hands very effectively. He may not want to sign it, but he doesn’t want to go to work either. In my opinion, he’ll sign.”
“Will you draw it up? I want to confront him soon, before he looks for other buyers if the Bayards take too long to respond or turn him down. He may have other debts I don’t know about, and has no way to repay them, since I told him I won’t cover his debts again.” Lucawould have no big influx of money now until the sale of the palazzo closed.
“I’ll write something today,” Gian Battista promised. She noticed that he sounded tired. “I’m sorry you have to go through this. There was always a bad element somewhere in Luca. I could smell it even when he was a boy. Your father didn’t want to believe it, but it was there. He used to cheat other children in school, and steal money from the servants. They were always petty crimes that took advantage of someone weaker than him. You’re not weaker than he is by any means, but your father left you and Allegra exposed by that flaw in his will. We’ll try to correct it now.”
Cosima hoped that Luca would sign the agreement. She was still worried about it when Olivier arrived at seven-thirty for a drink. He followed her directions and came past Allegra’s door and up the narrow stairway to Cosima’s penthouse apartment with the terrace. The view was spectacular, and the gilded domes of Rome’s myriad churches shimmered in the setting sun.
“Oh my God, this is fabulous.” He stood admiring the view as she offered him champagne, and they sipped it together.
“I love watching the sun come up here every morning. I used to give big parties on this terrace when I was younger. Now I enjoy it by myself. It’s so peaceful, and so joyous. Rome is so alive at any hour.” She loved the vibrancy of it. Venice was mysterious, and Rome happily chaotic.
“Rome is a beautiful city. I love the atmosphere. There’s just enough mischief and magic to be fun. Paris is more serious,” Olivier commented, “and not as exciting.”
“But also very beautiful. It’s my favorite city, after Rome.”
“I love Venice too,” he added, “and Florence. I’m always happy to have an excuse to go there for work.”
“I’ve agreed to sell the palazzo to the Johnsons, as I told you earlier,” she reminded him. “We haven’t signed the papers yet, but it was the only way I could pay off my brother’s casino debt.”
“You can’t do that,” he said sternly, sad for her. “You have to cancel the sale.”
“I have no choice. And the Johnsons love the palazzo.”
“It’s your history.”
“It’s more important to protect the business. We live from that, and we don’t use the palazzo now, which is why I rented it to them. Times change,” she said philosophically, as they sat down on chairs on her terrace and looked at the view together. It felt peaceful being with him, and safe. He had protected her from her own brother with what he told her. He had come to Rome to help her defend herself and their business, and she was grateful to him. There was no doubt in her mind that he was a friend, and he had strong protective instincts. Gian Battista was like that too. They were both good men. “I spoke to our attorney today. He wrote my father’s will. My father thought it unimaginable that any family member would sell to an outsider. I will have to make a deal with my brother to prevent him from selling his shares in the business. I may need the money from the sale of the palazzo now to pay him.” It was a devastating situation for her.
They left as the evening grew darker, and he took her to Pierluigi on Piazza de Ricci, a chic trattoria that was one of the most fashionable restaurants in Rome. He talked to her about Basile, his younger son, over dinner, and it was obvious how proud Olivier was of him.He was everything that his older half brother wasn’t, hardworking, warm, affectionate, honest. Basile wasn’t jealous or greedy. He led the life of an artist in a small, simple apartment and created his street art almost every night. It was starting to sell at high prices. He had had a show a few months before, and every piece sold, Olivier told her.
“It’s amazing how different the two boys are,” he commented to Cosima. “Their mothers were too. I was married to each of them for a very short time. Youthful mistakes that cured me from ever wanting to marry again. I don’t think marriage is my strong suit,” he admitted. “But I’m lucky to have two sons out of it. I worry about Max, though. I think he could easily be led in the wrong direction, mostly for money. He always hung out with bad boys when he was young too.”
“It’s interesting that he and my brother found each other. Luca was always that way too. My parents made excuses for him, which were more acceptable when he was younger. He got worse after they died. I guess I wasn’t tough enough with him either.”
“I never had those problems with Basile. He was always a good boy. He’s a good man now and has so much talent. Max is always looking for the shortcuts to big money. I suppose that’s why he gambles.”
“He and Luca have a lot in common,” she said unhappily.
“Your sister has the same kind of open joie de vivre my son Basile does. Maybe it’s because they’re artistic and have talent. They’re not chasing after money. Basile is shocked by what his paintings sell for now. It’s street art and I think he’d do it for free. He did actually for several years before he started selling his work.”
“It’s so complicated being a parent,” Cosima commented.
“Especially at nineteen.” Olivier smiled at her. “And I was no better at it at twenty-two when Basile was born. I was ridiculously young when I had both of them, and even more inept as a husband, although the two women I married weren’t ready to settle down either. I shouldn’t have married them. They both left me. We were children playing at marriage. I was always sorry that I didn’t do it right, with the right woman at a more reasonable age. But by the time I was old enough to be a decent husband and have kids, I felt so burned by my earlier experiences that I never wanted to be married again. I’m not sure if I missed out or not. My relationships have been pretty sensible and sane ever since. None of them were destined to last, but they went on long enough and we always managed to end things cleanly on good terms. And now I’m happy as I am.” He looked content as he said it and seemed to have few regrets except about his early marriages, and he was a loving father to both his sons, but he wasn’t blind to Max’s flaws.
“Me too,” Cosima said, about being happy as things were. “The business keeps me busy and fulfilled. I took on the role of mother with Allegra when she was fourteen. Luca was eighteen, which was harder. I feel as though I’ve done all that. I wouldn’t want to do it again.” Although she would have for Gian Battista, but only for him. And he wouldn’t. So children were no longer an option for her, nor was marriage. She wasn’t seeking either one.
“You’re still young enough to marry and have children of your own,” Olivier said. It was what Gian Battista had said to her when he ended their affair three years before. But she wanted neither marriage nor children, except with him. She had known a great love inher life from twenty-six to thirty-five, and she still loved him. Gian Battista had filled her heart in ways that she didn’t think any other man could. He had freed her so she could marry and have children, and she didn’t want to. Just seeing him now and then was enough. She wasn’t expecting more from him or out of life. Olivier had the feeling that there was a part of her that she didn’t reveal to anyone. Cosima was a woman with a secret of some kind, and he didn’t pry. She said she was happy as she was, and he believed her. But there was something sad in her eyes.
“I’m not sure I could ever have swayed Luca from the bad path he was on, even at eighteen. There was something deeply wrong in him, even as a boy,” she said pensively.
“I feel the same way about Max,” Olivier said seriously.
They spent a lovely evening together and found that they had many interests in common. He was hoping to see her again, even as a friend, if she would allow it, and he had proven himself worthy, warning her about Luca.
