Page 97 of The Wondrous Life and Loves of Nella Carter
“Yes, I—wait! Close your eyes. We’re almost there.”
“Are you sure this is going to work? With your cast and all?”
“Ah! Stop planning and be surprised for once.”
I smiled and closed my eyes, listening to the sounds of cars as they rumbled past, the clink of glasses from a restaurant, and the sizzle of meat floating toward me.
“This must be one heck of a bar.”
“I think it’ll be something you’ll like.”
It wasn’t long before he slowed me to a stop. “Open your eyes.”
I blinked, stunned by the sudden burst of light. We’d reached an eight-story building, a bright sign readingGrand Splendidarched over the entrance. The facade reminded me of where I’d lived in Paris more than 130 years ago: all white stone, black terraced balconies, and architectural detail. The string lights of the restaurant next door bobbed in the breeze like fairy magic, adding to the ambience.
“What is this? A theater?” I stopped in my tracks. As charming as he was, it was not the time for a show. My hands had cramped up from typing, and I couldn’t wait to kick these boots off and sink into my bed with a glass of red wine.
“Even better,” he said, winking at me, loosely tugging me inside. At the sight of his cast, I swallowed my questions and followed him to where the lobby revealed itself and the surprise beyond.
Books.
Books everywhere I looked.
They lined the lobby, forming aisles like altars.
I gasped at the size of it. My version of heaven could look just like this. Jacques’s study had been the most beautiful room to me for more than a century, but this was the most beautiful book-filled space I had ever been in, and I think Diego knew it.
The deeper we went in, the more in awe I was. The place was fashioned like a Parisian opera house, ruby-red theater curtains framing the stage, flanked by two balconies; rows of books lined the main floor where the seats ought to have been. On the circular ceiling, nude lily-colored angels, partially covered by clouds, observed all. Conversation echoed through the grand room as people milled about, browsing the titles. Clusters of tables stood on the former stage, all occupied with people chatting over their coffees and books.
“Welcome to El Ateneo Grand Splendid. It just opened,” he said in a hushed tone, tugging my now-unresisting body behind him as I marveled at the details—the gilded moldings, plaster reliefs decorating the cream walls, and thick red carpet underfoot. “All your breaks, I see you with a book and thought you might like it.” He looked back, a small smile on his lips, his reconstructed front teeth glistening.
I didn’t know if it was the recessed features or the sparkle of the chandeliers, but I was starting to see Diego in a new light.
Thoughtful.
Observant.
Considerate.
Once, this might have been a cause for joy. A chance to start anew. But even if I wanted to dig deeper, I couldn’t risk it. I moved to the next display, giving myself room and time to think.
Diego wandered a short distance away to browse a display of CDs and records, still glancing at me. I watched him flip through the selection, glancing away whenever our eyes met as I considered what it would be like to explore this a bit. Not for forever, but just for now. I didn’t have a great love for him, but the like was there, growing—maybe growing into enough.
He sidled up beside me. “Come, let’s grab seats. We can have the best view in the house.”
I followed him, and we sat in the middle of the stage, gazing out at the selection of books and the grand span of the shelves, which looked like a church for all things literary. “It’s amazing what they were able to do. It’s like it was built for this.”
Diego nodded. “My grandmother came here once as a small girl, when it was still a theater. She would talk about the dancers on the stage and how the music would swell, making you feel bigger and lighter than you ever had in your life.” He glanced around again. “I’m glad they kept it. Just because something is old doesn’t mean it can’t be made beautiful again.”
I glanced over at him. “Who are you, and what have you done with muscly Diego from the office?”
He leaned back in the chair. “I’m more than just a pretty face.” His eyes lingered on me, and I believed it. The flutter grew bigger, so I changed the subject.
“So, what books did you get?”
He spread his out, a familiar black cover near the top.
I stopped him, pulling out the copy. “I read this one a while ago.”
