Free Mirage Beyond Flames (Coriola) by Melinda De Ross Page B

her.
    “I’ve never tasted something so delicious,” said Linda sincerely.
    “Thank you, darling,” replied the woman, sitting on the other sofa, facing them. “We have a small strawberry plantation. There’s nothing like home-cooked food. Sophie should soon finish preparing lunch. She’ll be joining us in just a moment. Until then, tell me about yourselves. I understand you’ve met at the clinic.”
    Linda glanced at Gerard, who buried his nose in the juice glass.
    “Yes,” she answered. “I have been making donations there for a while. Since I live in London now, I want to get involved more I try to help in any way I can curing or at least comforting those poor children.”
    Chantalle watched her for a moment, then said:
    “You have a kind, generous soul. Few rich people think to give away even a penny of their fortune, not to mention do all the good you are doing.”
    Linda laughed softly , tracing the floral pattern on the glass with her finger.
    “I’m not that rich, Mrs. Leon – Chantalle,” she corrected. “I had the luck to be born in a family with a good financial status and the privilege – which few have – to follow my inclination toward sculpture. Art pays pretty well too.”
    “Everywhere you see so-called artists without any talent who are starving. If you’re paid well, it means you got some real talent there. Besides, I also saw in the newspaper some photos of your sculptures. You have something… special, a style wearing your fingerprint. It’s no wonder my boy has fallen for you.”
    Linda, who was just sipping some juice, choked and coughed noisily, splattering droplets of juice and panic.
    Gerard laughed, gently patting her back.
    “Mom, please, stop it! Linda is not used to your… direct approach. Please excuse my m other. She’s used to telling things straight forward and sometimes that’s bothersome.”
    “Why should she be bothered, dear?” Chantalle was scandalized. “Or don’t you love my son?”
    Linda, who had barely managed to recover her breath just to lose it again groping for a non-incriminating answer, was saved by Sophie, who appeared in the doorway.
    Gerard stood and embraced her tightly, exclaiming:
    “Auntie, you finally bless us with your presence! Let me introduce someone. Linda, this is my aunt Sophie.”
    Linda got to her feet to shake the woman’s hand. She was a suppler brown-haired version of Chantalle’s, wearing a pink apron tied around her waist.
    “It’s so good to meet you, Mrs. Sophie. I’m Linda Coriola.”
    Sophie took her hands in hers, analyzing her from over the top of her glasses.
    “You seem familiar, dear. ”
    “She’s the sculptress we saw in the paper,” Chantalle intervened. “Don’t you remem ber admiring one of her statues? The one you said that resembled Gerard.”
    “It’s a representation of Apollo,” Linda clarified.
    “Oh, I remember now,” Sophie said and her face lit up even more. “I’m so happy to meet you, dear. Welcome to our humble home. But how come you know our boy?”
    “She’s his girlfriend,” Chantalle clarified again, before Linda can say a word. “Will you bring that food this year or shall I come and help?”
    “No need, I’ll serve lunch right away,” answered Sophie, her hands on the youths’ shoulders, then hurried back to the kitchen.
    “An Apollo who looks like me?” Gerard asked, raising an eyebrow.
    Linda sighed and shook her head, whispering:
    “Drop it… ”
    “Not a chance. I can’t wait to see the exhibit.”
     
    The meal was excellent, the food simple but very tasty: chicken soup, juicy steak with mashed potatoes and a delicious strawberry pie.
    C onversation flowed smoothly. Linda discovered she liked very much the two women, who were energetic, funny, completely indiscrete and always making spicy comments.
    Sophie and her husband hadn’t had children because of her incurable sterility. So the woman looked at Gerard as if he was her own son. He seemed perfectly