Spilt Wine

24. Of Coins and Papers

Thursday 10 April 1986

Catherine and I sat in one of the private banking offices in the Banque Nationale de Paris branch in Place Darcy in Dijon. The accountant confirmed that a wire had arrived on Wednesday, adding 265,237.34 francs to my account balance. While I gave him instructions for the drafts, Catherine asked, "Shouldn't that be for two thirty-five?"

"No, I gave a deposit cheque for ten thousand when I signed the offer. This is the balance, and from the total, Jean-Luc will take his selling commission and give the remainder to Henc and Maddie."

After the accountant left to process the drafts, I continued explaining to Catherine: "This will all happen tomorrow with the lawyer, when the ship's title is signed over to me. I still have to pay the lawyer's fees and the invoice for the crane that Jean-Luc should have. I paid the surveyor yesterday when he delivered the report."

I had just begun outlining plans for Vrouwe Catharina once the deal completes, when the accountant returned. "Voilà! Monsieur Michaels. Let us review to make sure they are what you wish. One for 225,000 to Bourgogne Bateaux en feducie and the other a blank one for 15,000."

He placed them on the desk in front of me along with the accounting receipts, and comparing them to my instructions, I nodded. "Yes, they are correct."

After offering the usual polished banker's phrases, as we rose from our chairs to leave, the accountant added a non-standard remark, "You have a very beautiful lady, Monsieur Michaels." His eyes were very obviously admiring Catherine.

"Thank you, I think so as well," I replied with a smile as we left the office. Halfway across the marble floor of the lobby, I looked into Catherine's eyes. "Would the very beautiful lady care to join Monsieur Michaels for lunch?"

"Let me check her calendar." Catherine giggled, and after a brief pause, she said, "Yes, she would be delighted to fit him in."

Directly across Place Darcy from the bank is Hotel de la Cloche, an elegant grand old building in the architecture of Restoration France. It is wedged into a corner of two streets radiating from the circle that is Place Darcy. As we walked toward it, I asked Catherine, "Have you ever wondered why they call a circle a square here?"

"What do you mean? Is this another of your geometry quizzes?"

"No, the British – the English language calls this place a square. Place Darcy in the English guides is Darcy Square, but its shape is circular."

"You see such strange things, Monsieur Michaels." She laughed and added, "But slowly, I'm beginning to see them, too."

"Please call me David, Madame Ducroix, Lady Catherine."

We laughed as we passed through the doors which had been swung open for us when we approached arm-in-arm. We crossed the lobby and headed out the other side and into a glass-roofed garden framed by the splayed wings of the hotel. The restaurant was sparsely populated; it was still a few minutes before noon. "It has a Michelin star, so it will soon be crowded. Where would you like to sit?" I asked as we surveyed the room.

"That looks like a lovely place, over there in that corner, under the tree." She nodded across the restaurant.

It was the exact place I had chosen, and I breathed a sigh of relief. "You prefer the corners too?"

"Everything can be easily seen from them ... So you gained three per cent on the currency exchange?" Catherine said as we settled into their side-by-side chairs at the corner of the table, facing out into the room.