Puzzled. Seraphima Bogomolova
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in, studies something in her computer then replies:
“I’m sorry, Monsieur, but there must be some mistake. There are no clients under this name registered in our system.”
Episode 24 – A Holiday Fling
Swiss Hotel, Nice, 27 December 2010
I get into the hotel elevator and bury my face in the chrysanthemums’ heads. I love those fragile looking yet long lasting flowers. Their appearance in late autumn signals to me the arrival of winter magic.
Back in my room, I look for a vase. Not finding one, I call the reception.
Soon, my efforts in flower arrangement bring a touch of tenderness into existence on my night table: a welcome kiss of the Côte d’Azur.
Lying down on the bed, I look through photographs taken during my morning walk. The ones of the beach and the market seem to be especially good.
I choose some and upload them on Facebook. Instantly, a comment from Nicolas arrives:
Is it your take on ‘the lady with the dog’?15 Only in this instant the lady takes a pic of the dog… And who’s that guy next to it, your holiday fling? :-)
I type:
Ha-ha, have you been thinking of your literary ex again? Yes, my holiday fling… Are you jealous? :-)
I wait. He doesn’t respond. I log out of Facebook and go to my inbox to check for the reply from my electronic admire, but no luck there.
Shutting the laptop, I throw a glance out the window and see a patch of sky – the bright blue.
A sun ray falls onto my face. Caressing, it warms and lulls me at the same time.
Someone knocks at the door.
I listen, but all is quiet. I must have imagined it.
I get up and come to the window. Before me, a shimmering ribbon of lights winds away into the night. Admiring the view, I stand by the window a while, then swing it open. A breath of cold air enters the room, immediately giving me goose bumps. Humid, the air smells of seaweeds and salt.
The next moment, somebody’s arms are thrown around me. I find myself locked in a warm embrace, a male body passionately pressing against me.
“Chérie…” He whispers.
The embrace seems so cordial, so invigoratingly familiar. Trying to grasp the fleeting yet persisting memory, I’m about to turn around, but hear a loud knock at the door. Then a key is inserted into the lock.
I open my eyes and see a chambermaid walking in.
“Pardon, madame”, she says, startled. “I’ve knocked, but there was no reply. I thought the room’s empty. Would you like your bed to be turndown?”
Episode 25 – Obviously
Le Negresco Hotel, Nice, 27 December 2010
I send the chambermaid away and get ready for diner. As it turns out, lunch I have missed already.
Suddenly, I feel like going somewhere chic, a gourmet establishment of some sort with white crisp table clothes, polished silver wear, menus bursting a variety of French delicacies, and accommodating staff.
I think of an appropriate place – Le Chantecler restaurant in the opulently elegant Le Negresco hotel.
I don’t have a reservation, but it doesn’t discourage me. I call for a taxi and go downstairs. The hotel is just fifteen minutes walk away but tonight I’m in the mood for a bit of indulgence.
At the entrance to the restaurant, a headwaiter greets me. A sound of clinking and clattering flows out of the Dinning Room. Schooled waiters move swiftly between the tables, serving their high-end clientele.
“Bonsoir, Mademoiselle, do you have a reservation?” The headwaiter asks.
“As a matter of fact I don’t…” I reply.
His eyebrow flies up.
“The thing is…” I begin.
“Pardon, Monsieur, it’s my fault. I haven’t told Mademoiselle about the reservation. It’s under my name – Mohamed Al Murshidi.” The young Arab, I watched this morning at breakfast, joins in, unexpectedly appearing at the entrance.
The headwaiter marks something in his list and motions us to follow him.
The Arab lets me before him.
The Dining Room is full: the devotees of French gastronomy made up of families, couples, and groups of friends, seem to occupy each and every table.
Mohamed’s table is set for one but this slip is instantly corrected. The headwater waves his hand and as if by magic a second set appears on it.
We sit down.
“Thank you very much. It’s most kind of you.” I say. “I’m afraid without your intervention I wouldn’t be able to dine here tonight”.
“My pleasure, but, honestly, even without my intervention you’d be perfectly fine tonight”, he replies, his English impeccable.
“Well, I don’t know… In this case, you might be slightly overestimating the power of feminine charm.” I say, throwing a look around. The restaurant is fully booked for tonight.
“I’m afraid, it has nothing to do with feminine charms, but with money.” He replies with a grin.
“Do you mean that I’ve got enough money to go around and bribe headwaiters in such restaurants like this one?”
“Yes.” He nods. “I dare say that even if you didn’t, you’d still find a way to accommodate in your budget for such an occasion.”
“Really? Why so?” I ask, surprised by his shrewdness.
“But it’s obvious.” He replies.
“What’s obvious?”
“Well, that you’re an assertive and rather determined woman…”
Episode 26 – Bar Menu
Swiss Hotel, Nice, 27 December 2010
I couldn’t have been so mistaken.
The woman who has just walked into the Swiss Hotel is undoubtedly her and no one else. I know perfectly well how she looks and what her name is. Perhaps she is just visiting someone in the hotel.
But what am I to do now?
I can’t spend all day, watching the entrance of the Swiss Hotel.
What if she stays over and leaves only tomorrow morning?
Perplexed, I stare at the receptionist. My stomach growls loudly.
“Excuse me,” I say, coming out of my bewilderment, “is there a restaurant in here?”
“No, there isn’t, I’m afraid. But we can offer you a bar menu.” The receptionist replies and pushes the menu to me.
I take it. It displays a big choice of alcohol drinks but nothing of a substantial nature to eat…
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The Lady with the Dog (Russian: