Cat O'Nine Tales and Other Stories - Jeffrey Archer [86]
After the speeches were over, the dancing began to yet another band—this time one that had been flown in from New Orleans. Gian Lorenzo overheard that Angelina had once mentioned to Papa that she liked jazz.
As the band struck up and the champagne continued to flow, the newlyweds moved among their guests, which gave Gian Lorenzo a fleeting moment to thank Paolo and his bride for including him in such an unforgettable occasion. “Medici would have swooned,” he told her, as he kissed her hand. She gave him a warm, gentle smile, but didn’t respond.
“Let’s keep in touch,” suggested Paolo as the two of them drifted away. “Angelina is fascinated by art, you know, and is thinking of starting her own collection,” were the last words Gian Lorenzo heard, before Paolo moved on to another guest.
Just before the sun rose and breakfast was about to be served, Signor and Signora Castelli set off for the airport, with a thousand hands waving their farewells. They drove out of the grounds of the Borghese with Paolo at the wheel of his latest Ferrari—not the ideal car for his bride. When they reached the airport, Paolo drove out onto a private airstrip and brought the car to a halt by the side of a Lear jet that was waiting for two passengers. The newlyweds left the Ferrari parked on the runway, climbed the steps and disappeared inside Papa’s aircraft. Within minutes of fastening their seatbelts, the jet took off for Acapulco, the first stop on their three-month honeymoon.
Despite Paolo’s parting words, when the Castellis returned from their honeymoon they made no attempt to keep in touch with Gian Lorenzo. However, he was able to follow their exploits on an almost daily basis in the gossip columns of the national press.
A year later he read that they would be moving to Venice, where they had purchased the type of villa that makes the covers, not the inside pages, of glossy magazines. Gian Lorenzo assumed that he and his old friend were unlikely to bump into each other again.
When Antonio Venici retired, he happily handed over the responsibility for the family business to his son. As the new owner of the Venici Gallery, Gian Lorenzo spent half his time traveling around Europe in search of that elusive painting which makes collectors gasp, while not insulting the dealer with any suggestion of bargaining.
One such journey was to Venice, to view a Canaletto owned by the Contessa di Palma—a lady who, having divorced her third husband and sadly no longer possessing the looks to guarantee a fourth, had decided she would have to part with one or two of her treasures. The Contessa’s only stipulation was that no one must discover that she was facing temporary financial difficulties. Every leading dealer in Italy knew of her mounting debts and unpaid creditors. Gian Lorenzo was only thankful that the Contessa had chosen him to share her confidences with.
Gian Lorenzo took some time to study the Contessa’s considerable collection and concluded that she had an eye not only for rich men. After he had agreed a price for the Canaletto, he expressed the hope that this might be the beginning of a long and fruitful relationship.
“Let’s start with dinner at Harry’s Bar, my darling,” said the Contessa, once she had Gian Lorenzo’s check in her hand.
Gian Lorenzo was making up his mind between an affogato or an espresso when Paolo and Angelina strolled into Harrys Bar. Everyone in the room followed their progress, as the maître d’ ushered them unctuously to a corner table.
“Now there’s someone who can afford to buy my entire collection,” whispered the Contessa.
“Without a doubt,” agreed Gian Lorenzo, “but unfortunately Paolo only collects rare cars.”
“And even rarer women,” interjected the Contessa.
“And I’m not altogether sure what Angelina collects.”
“A few extra pounds each year,” suggested the Contessa. “She once came to tea with my second husband and literally ate us out of house and home. By the time she left we were down to the water biscuits.