In Memory of Angel Clare Read Free Page A

glance and Livy said, “Oh, you see plenty of us in New York, Michael. We wouldn’t want to spoil your fun.” She nodded at the tables beneath the café awning. “And it looks like you know at least one soul here.”
    Michael saw Tim watching them, face propped on his fist, knuckles covering his mouth.
    “Just an American tourist I met today. Come over and join us and I’ll buy you a drink.” He grinned at Tim, gestured at Peter and Livy to follow him, and headed back toward the table, overjoyed to be playing host to the Griffiths.
    But when he reached the table, only Peter was with him. Livy stood out on the sidewalk, studying her wristwatch.
    “Livy can’t join us?”
    Peter gritted his teeth inside his beard. “Neither of us can, Michael. We’re having dinner with some business people tonight and were on our way back to the hotel to change.”
    “Aw,” Michael groaned. “I wanted to take us all out to dinner.” He noticed Tim frowning.
    “That’s very kind of you.” Peter glanced out at Livy. “If we had the time, we would’ve taken you out. But I’m afraid the pursuit of lucre comes first.”
    “I understand,” said Michael, deeply disappointed, faintly hurt. “Oh, this is Tim,” he remembered to say. “Tim’s an art student. Peter Griffith, the painter.” He could at least show Tim the kind of important friends he had.
    “More an illustrator nowadays,” said Peter, shaking the boy’s hand.
    “Peter did the poster for the film I was telling you about.”
    “ Disco of the Damned ?” said Tim.
    Peter snorted and shook his head. “Or whatever that fool producer ended up calling it. Yes, I did that. As a favor for a very close friend of mine. And Michael’s,” he added. He looked at Michael for a moment, then laid his hand on Michael’s shoulder. “So how you doing?” he said softly. “You having a good time on your trip?”
    “Of course.” But Peter was someone who understood. “There’s good days and bad days. It’s strangest when I go to places he used to talk about.”
    “He loved this place, you know.”
    “I know.” But Michael had come alone to the Café de Flore so many times he had forgotten. Would Peter and Livy think ill of him for bringing somebody else here?
    “You should enjoy yourself,” Peter told him. “You deserve it. He’d want you to enjoy yourself. Youth, freedom, and a bit of money in Paris,” he sighed. “I must say I envy you.” He gave Michael’s shoulder a squeeze and released it. “I better be going. Livy’s going to chide me for my long Southern goodbyes. I’m sure we’ll see you back in New York. Nice meeting you,” he told Tim. “All right then. Bye now.” He bowed sideways as he stepped back and didn’t turn away completely until he was halfway to the street.
    “Have a nice dinner!” Michael called out and waved goodbye to Livy.
    Livy lifted her hand and smiled, then took Peter by the arm and hurried him off, her long dark skirt beating around their legs.
    Michael remained standing, feeling confused, sad, and oddly content. It was as though he were pleased by the sorrow revived in him by Peter’s sympathy. Sorrow felt more genuine than all his petty doubts and anxieties.
    Tim looked bucktoothed and younger than ever after Peter and Livy. He seemed to be thinking something out.
    Michael sat down. “What a coincidence! Those are two of my very best friends.” Which was an exaggeration, but meeting anyone in a foreign place elevated them in importance. “Don’t let Peter fool you. He’s still a very good painter. The poster he did for us was as good as anything you see in SoHo.”
    “I was afraid at first they were friends of your parents. But they’re your friends?” Tim hesitated. “They didn’t seem very friendly. Especially the woman.”
    “No?” The thought had crossed Michael’s mind too, but he didn’t trust it. “They had to be somewhere,” he insisted. “You have to know them. And Livy’s that way. She