The Gilder (14 page)

“Marina! What are you doing here?”

“Hi, sorry I scared you. I just got here a minute ago.”

Marina saw his eyes dart to the open chest and then back at her. She kept her back to it and did her best to look innocent.

Thomas’s face began to close down as he composed himself. “I thought we agreed you weren’t working today.” He walked over to the shelving and stowed the boxes.

“We did, but I had some exciting news I wanted to share with you. But what’s all this about?” she asked, gesturing toward the lights.

Thomas shrugged. “Just fooling around, experimenting. So, what’s your news?”

Marina knew better than to press Thomas for more information, which she wasn’t sure she wanted anyway. She told him about Sauro’s offer, and while he seemed genuinely pleased for her, it was clear that he was anxious for her to leave.

As she walked back toward the center of town, she remembered other times when she’d arrived at the studio and noticed things out of place, equipment moved, furniture slightly askew, as if Thomas had been working on something during the night, then packed it away. She didn’t have the nerve to question Thomas about what he did in his own studio, and when she asked Sarah if Thomas ever worked at night, she’d just laughed and said, “God only knows what he gets up to at night. I’d rather not think about it.”

The first weeks of the new year were unseasonably warm and dry, but by month’s end heavy rains arrived, creating puddles, streams, then small rivers in the streets. The skies thundered overhead and a sulfurous odor leached from the sewers, but Marina scarcely noticed. She appeared at Sauro’s workshop every morning, eagerly pulled on her blue
grembi-ulino,
and threw herself blissfully into the day. There was a great deal of work to be done. Sauro’s father, whose recovery was taking longer than expected, was unlikely to return before spring, and while his grandfather came to the workshop every day, he had lost some of his vitality and spent a great deal of the time dozing in an armchair by the heater. Marina tried not to be grateful for their misfortune and worked as hard as she could to merit her own good fortune.

Sauro’s workshop was close to Sarah and Thomas’s apartment, and Marina often went there at midday, picking up a chunk of cheese or a loaf of bread on the way to supplement the bottomless pot of soup that bubbled on their stove. Thomas usually joined them for lunch but rarely stayed long.

“Doesn’t he ever rest?” Marina asked one afternoon. While she had once jealously coveted her time alone with Sarah, she found herself wishing that Thomas would linger after lunch. Having him around diffused the anxiety she increasingly felt when she was alone with Sarah. She avoided physical contact as much as possible, declining Sarah’s offers to rub her feet or brush her hair, hoping that a little distance might help her to better understand the situation. If Sarah noticed Marina’s withdrawal, she didn’t let on and was as warm and attentive as ever.

Sarah shrugged. “I don’t know. He has more energy than he knows what to do with. Plus he’s working on a new idea for his show.”

When Marina asked what the idea was, Sarah smiled mysteriously but would only say that it involved Marina modeling for Thomas again and that he would tell her himself once he had all the details sorted out in his mind.

As she walked back to Sauro’s after lunch, Marina was irritated as much by Sarah’s secretiveness as by the relentless rain. Why was she always left out of the loop? She knew it was unreasonable to think that Thomas would confide in her just because she’d helped him with a few projects, but did Sarah have to go along with everything he did? She kicked a stone out of her path; maybe she’d refuse to model for him when he asked.

When Marina entered Sauro’s shop, she found him engaged in a conversation with a gray-haired man she’d never seen before. He wore an elegant camel-hair overcoat and was speaking fairly good Italian, but with a terrible American accent. They were examining one of the altarpieces she’d been working on for the past week. Sauro waved her over and introduced her to Josh Stevens, explaining that he had his own restoration studio in New York but always stopped to see him when he was passing through Florence on business.

The man bowed slightly as he shook Marina’s hand, then winked and said, “Actually, I come to steal his secrets.”

Sauro laughed and clapped Josh on the back, then excused himself when his grandfather called to him from the other side of the room.

Josh switched to English. “This is beautiful work you’re doing, very impressive.”

Marina smiled at him. “I have a great teacher.”

“That you do. I met Sauro at a conference in Rome years ago, and I’ve never known anyone with his sense of integrity about preserving the traditions of his trade. It restores my faith every time I come here. You’re a lucky young woman.”

“Yes, I’m very fortunate.”

He reached into his coat pocket. “Here, take my card. If you ever find yourself in New York, look me up. I’d be pleased to see you.”

She couldn’t imagine ever going home but tucked the card in her pocket.

Thomas revealed the new idea for his show a few days later when he asked her to accompany him to Santa Croce after lunch. All he would say was that he had something to show her in the church, something that would be the centerpiece of his new show.

“Why are you being so mysterious?” Marina demanded, irritated all over again.

“Trust me, you have to see it to understand it.”

They entered the church by the side door, their breath crystallizing in the gloom. She followed him to the center aisle, where Thomas stopped in front of the bas-relief figure in the floor, the spot where they had first met. He gripped her arm and whispered, “I’ve been looking at these for years. I knew there was something I wanted to do with them, but I didn’t know what.”

Marina looked down at the robed figure carved into a slab of white marble set in the floor. It looked as if the figure were pushing up through the marble, trying to escape.

“And now you know what you want to do?” she whispered.

“Yes. I’m going to do you in marble for my show,
Flesh in Stone
.”

“What do you mean? Make me into a fake statue?”

“No. Yes, sort of. I’m going to make you into one of these.” Thomas’s voice rose as he gestured toward the marble figure staring up at them from the floor.

“Shhh.” Marina pulled on his arm. “Come on, let’s go back outside. It’s freezing in here.”

The air outside seemed balmy by comparison as they emerged from the church and crossed over to the café on the corner. The barman greeted them with a nod, grunting in response to their request for
caffè con panna
. Thomas was still talking and waving his hands around as they settled at a table. He was saying something about shutter speeds, diffused lighting, and ways to make the water white.

“What do you mean, make it white? What water?” Marina asked, stirring the sweetened whipped cream into her shot of espresso.

“The water in the tub.”

“What tub?”

“Have you heard anything I’ve said?” Thomas scowled at her.

“Sorry. I was cold. Tell me now.”

“I’m talking about the tub you’re going to be lying in.”

“What makes you think I’m going to lie in a bathtub full of water and let you photograph me?”

Thomas looked surprised. “Why not? If it turns out like I think, it’s going to be spectacular.”

Marina sipped her coffee and willed the blush to leave her cheeks.

“Don’t worry, you’re going to be all covered up by the white water.”

“What makes the water white?” She wasn’t going to immerse herself in any sort of paint.

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll have to do some experiments. Maybe soap. Maybe milk. Hopefully, I can make it close to the color of your skin, at least, so it reads that way in black and white. Then when you rise out of the water, it will look like you and the water are one and the same. Like the statue in the floor.”

“I thought I was going to be all covered up.”

“You will. Just your face and torso will stick out. Your breasts will be covered by your hands. If we do it right, it might look like someone else’s hands are grasping you from behind.” As he described the scene, he arched his back, thrusting his chest forward, clasped his chest with his hands, keeping his elbows tucked against his ribs, and then tipped his head back. “See?”

Two weeks passed before Marina had time to model for Thomas; Sauro was swamped with work from a private collection, and her assistance was indispensable in prepping furniture, frames, and objects for gilding. Finally he declared they were far enough along to take a weekend off. “If I don’t, my wife will kill me.”

It was Sarah who persuaded Marina to model for Thomas in the bathtub. She, too, was convinced that if it worked out the way Thomas thought, it would be a stellar photograph.

“Why don’t
you
model for him?” Marina wanted to know.

Sarah snorted and shook her head. “My modeling days are long over. It’s not good for our relationship. Besides, he’s in love with your neck.”

Marina blushed. “My neck?”

“Yeah, I think it’s part of the arching thing, you need a long neck to get the effect he wants. Anyway, you’ll be fine. If he gets fresh, just give a shout, I’ll be right here in the living room.”

When the day came, though, Thomas decided to use the bathroom in his studio, which had the light he wanted, and Sarah declined to come along, saying that she’d just be in the way. Marina was nervous but did as Thomas directed and filled the old claw-footed bathtub with hot water and enough soap flakes to turn the water milky white while he removed the muslin curtain from the tall, narrow window.

“Are you going to be warm enough?” asked Thomas.

“I’m fine.” Marina pulled the terrycloth robe a little tighter and hugged it to her.

“I’ll get my cameras. You get in the tub. I’ll be right back.” Thomas shut the door behind him.

She had never been naked in front of any man unless they’d been about to get into bed together, and it felt more than a little strange. She’d considered begging Sarah to come but decided against it. This was work, she needed to be professional, and that meant not behaving like an innocent in need of a chaperone. For her part, Sarah seemed easy about the arrangement and more concerned that Marina not catch a cold in the drafty studio than about her stripping down in front of Thomas.

Thomas knocked on the door. “Don’t get in yet. I’ve got something for you.”

Thomas handed her a glass of red wine. “This will help keep you warm.” Holding her gaze, he clinked his glass against hers. “To my beautiful statue.”

Marina blushed and looked away as she brought the glass to her lips.

“Call me when you’re in,” he instructed.

Marina nodded. “Sure.” She shut the door, leaned her back against it, and drained the glass. It was now or never.

She set the wineglass on the edge of the sink, slipped out of her robe, and stepped into the tub, easing herself into the warm water, her body disappearing into its whiteness. When the water reached her neck, she rested her head at the end of the tub.

“You in?” Thomas called from the other side of the door.

Marina hesitated and then replied, “All set, let’s do it.”

Thomas closed the door behind him. He had two 35mm cameras strung around his neck, the Nikon and the Leica. He set the precious Hasselblad on a folded towel on the bidet. Then he stood very still and looked down at Marina. Anyone who didn’t know him might have wondered at the vacant look that came over his face, the blank flatness of his eyes, but Marina knew this look—he was hard at work.

“This is going to be great. Your skin is the same color as the water. Okay, now slide down farther. Let your hair get wet. Slick it back. That’s it, that’s great.” Thomas spoke from behind the camera.

“Now arch your back so your breasts come out of the water. Great. Now cover them with your hands. Yes, but tuck your elbows in.”

Suddenly Marina’s head slid under the water. She sat up coughing, laughing. “Ahhg, I got water up my nose,” she sputtered, shaking her head and clasping her nostrils between thumb and forefinger.

Thomas handed her a hand towel for her face. “Okay, let me think for a minute.” He let the camera rest against his chest as he refilled her wineglass and handed it to her.

Sitting up as she was, Marina was exposed from the waist up. She pulled her knees up to cover her chest as she reached for the glass.

“Let’s try it again. This time rest on your elbows so you can prop yourself up and still clasp your breasts.”

Marina gulped the wine, then lay back once again.

“That’s it, head back, more, more, perfect, don’t move.” Thomas’s voice sounded a long way off as she relaxed into the pose, breathing slowly and carefully through her nose, willing her heart back to a steady beat. With her eyes closed, she was able to forget for a moment that Thomas was there, her awareness resting in the water as if suspended in time and space. She felt the edges of the water caress her face, and a gentle current drift through her hair and between her legs. After a while, she heard the distant command, “Okay, take a break.”

She sat up once again, but this time after she’d reached for her wineglass, she leaned back against the end of the tub and rested her elbows on either side. The water played around her breasts, gently lapping her nipples. She liked how she felt. Thomas gazed at her, shifting his eyes to her breasts, then back to her eyes. “You have no idea how beautiful you look.”

Marina smiled. Now this she understood. Thomas admired her, she felt beautiful—it made sense. What a relief to not be confused about her feelings.

Thomas turned away. “Why don’t you add some more hot water while I change the film.”

When he returned, Thomas refilled both glasses, then sat down on the edge of the tub. Marina sipped her wine as Thomas reached out and ran his finger very lightly across her collarbone, over her shoulder, and down the front of her arm to the wrist. His eyes followed his finger as he spoke. “I really appreciate you doing this, Marina. It’s going to be fantastic, I can tell already.”