Free The Diamond Caper by Peter Mayle

obsession with celebrity is amazing. They want to read about it and they want to rub shoulders with it, which makes them feel that they’re part of it. Weird.”
    “Thanks, professor. So being famous has never appealed to you?”
    “I haven’t met many celebrities, but the ones I have met were so pleased with themselves it kind of put me off the whole idea. I’m happy to be anonymous, and to have the love of an adorable woman.”
    “Sam, you are so full of it.” He could almost hear her rolling her eyes.
    —
    Back at Le Pharo, they took to the pool and swam off the aftereffects of lunch; and after ten lengths, all those
tapas
were no more than a pleasant memory. Drying off by the side of the pool, Sam looked up at the clean blue sky and gave a sigh of contentment.
    “I can tell,” said Elena. “You’re lying there missing L.A.”
    “Sure. Five million cars, smog, what’s not to miss?”
    “Do you think we could live here full-time?”
    “Do you?”
    Before Elena could answer, they heard a whistle coming from the terrace behind them. It was Reboul, and he was holding up what looked very much like a bottle of
rosé
. They pulled on terrycloth robes and went over to join him.
    He was still in his business suit, looking a little tired. He’d spent the morning with his bankers, and the afternoon at a meeting with the suppliers of equipment for a development project just outside Marseille that he was funding. The meeting had dragged on, and had not gone well. “God knows I’ve lived here long enough to know by now,” he said, “that everything you want done down here should be done between October and April. This year, there are three national holidays in May, all of them on a Thursday. Naturally, everyone takes those Fridays off to make a nice long weekend. So that’s six working days lost in that one month. Now here we are in June, and already they’re slowing down, rehearsing for July and August, when nothing gets done. Factories close, and we’ll be lucky if orders we’re placing now are delivered by the middle of September.” He shook his head. “And they never stop moaning about how bad the French economy is.” He poured the wine and raised his glass. “So I hope you had a better day than I had.”
    “Poor Francis,” said Elena. “I hate to tell you, but we had a great day. It’s all happening so fast.”
    “Try not to get too excited. Destruction is always faster than construction. Tell me—how do you like working with Coco?”
    As both Sam and Elena said, first impressions were very good. Elena had been particularly impressed by Coco’s attention to detail, and her grasp of boring but important matters like the correct placement of a new septic tank and the most efficient distribution of the alarm sensors. Less boring but equally important was the advice that she had given them.
    “Sharing a bathroom always leads to trouble,” had been her first words of wisdom. “You must have a bathroom each. And Elena must have a kitchen that works. No cupboards, just big drawers, so you can find what you want without having to move anything. Two dishwashers; one just for glasses so they don’t smear, and both of them built in at chest height so you don’t have to bend over to load and unload. These may seem like little details, but they’re important.”
    Elena seemed to be ready to go through Coco’s ideas and suggestions for the rest of the house, but Reboul held up his hand to stop her somewhere between the bedroom and the living room. “I can see she hasn’t changed,” he said with a smile. “She always did like telling people what to do.”
    “But she knows what she’s talking about,” said Elena. “What can I say? It’s so far so good.”
    Long may that last, thought Reboul, as he recalled the interminable and often frustrating meetings with his architect when renovating Le Pharo.

Chapter 10

    The Fitzgeralds were now comfortably installed in their suite at the Plaza Athénée.