Excerpt Two

East of Niece
Chapter Two

By Randye Lordon

The Côte d'Azur is an amazing stretch of coastline that spans the Mediterranean from Saint-Tropez to Menton, which is a stone's throw from the Italian border. It is a breathtaking drive, with turquoise water on one side and the winding roads through quaint hill towns on the other. By the time Leslie and I arrived in Menton, it was just past 2:00 P.M. and I was ready to call it a night.

The hotel where we had booked a suite was at one time the private residence of an archduke and duchess who had carried out a suicide pact in the mid-1940s. Apparently, they would rather have died than to have lived in poverty. As I speak no French or Italian, I couldn't follow the innkeeper's rapid tale of history and melodrama and thus I don't know why the duke and duchess had believed that their poverty was imminent. To me, it was enough to know that these knuckleheads ended their lives at the mere thought that they might not be able to afford them. And to think the advent of American Express was just around the corner.

Either way, the old duke and duchess had built themselves quite a home, with a view as spectacular as anything I have ever seen before. Our suite -- and wraparound balcony -- looked out onto the Mediterranean and into northern Italy.

The rooms were so well appointed that after our host left us with a chilling bottle of champagne and an assortment of fresh fruits and cheeses, I turned to Leslie and asked something I had vowed I wouldn't, since I had relinquished all vacation planning, entrusting it to her capable hands.

"Just out of morbid curiosity, what is this costing us?" I pulled the champagne partway out of the ice and couldn't help but raise my brow at the quality.

"Hmm?" It was an avoidance tactic -- the old just disappear into the maze of the suite and pretend you didn't hear. It wasn't going to work. I saw dollar signs everywhere -- in the grapes, the drapes, and the champagne glasses, which, thankfully, were not crystal.

"What is the price of this very nice room? Will we have anything left for retirement?"

Leslie laughed. "Since when did you develop a tight fist?"

"Since we've been on holiday. On the airplane, I decided that if you resist something, you ought not to have to pay for it. For example, I don't want to go to a specific restaurant, but you do, and I agree to go because you want to, so you have to treat me to dinner. Same thing applies to movies, museums..."

"Taxes?"

"Only in an ideal world."

"Well, babe, you agreed to this vacation, so, technically, you're in for half. Now stop complaining and relax. I want you to call Vickie, tell her we're here. When you're done, there will be a bath waiting for you and then you can take a little nap."

I eyed her suspiciously and said, "It sounds too good."

"That's the whole idea behind a vacation. It should be hedonism made easy. Now go."

"You still didn't tell me how much. And don't think I don't know it. This is probably one of those places where a single egg at breakfast is eighty bucks." I dragged my purse into the living room, eased onto one of four armchairs, and pulled the phone onto my lap. Within minutes, I had my niece on the line and found myself with suddenly renewed energy and in very high spirits.

She was thrilled we'd arrived and even more thrilled that we planned to rest before going over to see her. "I have about four zillion things to do before you guys get here. I want it to be perfect! Tonight is a very special celebration, you know."

"What are we celebrating?"

"Gav's thirty-one today."

"I had no idea. We'll bring something. How about champagne?"

"I never say no to champagne."

"Good girl, and you never should, either."

She gave me the directions to their place, which was within walking distance of our hotel, provided we liked a good walk. Just hearing her voice made me happy. Vickie had been living in Menton for just over a year with her boyfriend, Gavin Mason, an artist from a wealthy Missouri family. Right from the very start, their living arrangement did not please my sister, Nora. Nora wanted to believe that Vickie's infatuation first with jazz violin, then with Europe, and finally with Gavin were nothing more than phases she was going through. That's how Nora explains most things. My being gay is a phase. Her own waning interest in sex is a phase brought on by a massive hormonal shift. Everything from her husband's weight gain to the increase in violence among the younger generation -- it's all a phase. It's hard for Nora to acknowledge that her only child has chosen to set up house so very far away from home. My sister mistakenly thinks it's all about her and forgets that she raised an independent, charming, talented, and clever young woman who just happens to take after her aunt (that would be me).