The Diamond Caper by Peter Mayle Read Free Book Online

not been impressed by what he had seen. “Of course,” he said, “with this property, the view is everything; the house is secondary. Above all, it needs to be substantially enlarged. At the moment, for instance, there is nowhere for the servants to sleep. Naturally, everything is possible, but,” and here he shrugged, “I don’t think that I am the man for the job. My work is on a larger scale.
D
é
solé.”
And with that, he put on his sunglasses and he and his assistant inserted themselves into the Porsche.
    Sam was pleased to see that Elena was laughing. “The nerve of the guy,” she said, “although he had a point. Where
will
we put the servants?”
    De Beaufort’s lukewarm assessment of the house was a taste of things to come. As the day wore on, three more architects came and went. One suggested razing the house to the ground and replacing it with a modern glass cube. Another wanted to add a penthouse and turn the ground floor into an indoor swimming pool. A third was practically speechless with shock when Sam mentioned budgets and penalty clauses. “How do you expect an artist to work like that?” he said, as he flounced off. By late afternoon, Elena and Sam had to face the fact that they hadn’t made much progress.
    Over a drink with Reboul that evening, Elena confessed that she had been disappointed that all the candidates—and indeed the vast majority of architects—were men.
    “Why aren’t there more women?” She looked accusingly at Sam, as though it were his fault, but gave him no chance to reply before climbing on to her hobby horse. “Women understand kitchens; most men don’t. Women realize that even the closest couples need some personal space. Women do bathrooms much better. Women aren’t afraid of working to budgets. Women appreciate the importance of well-organized storage space. In other words, they’re much, much more practical. And another thing,” she said, “they don’t let their egos get in the way of their work.”
    While Reboul was listening to this, he couldn’t help remembering a few architectural hiccups that had occurred while Le Pharo was being renovated—mistakes that would not have been made by a woman: a lack of full-length closet space and a shower like a huge deep-freeze, in particular. He sighed as he came to the obvious conclusion.
    “I remember you liked what Coco Dumas had done to Tommy Van Buren’s house. Would you think of using her?”
    Elena put her hand out and squeezed Reboul’s arm. “Not in a million years, if it would be a problem for you.”
    “I can always duck. But seriously, she’s very professional, there wouldn’t be any language difficulties, and, of course, she’s the acceptable sex. All I ask is that you keep her well away from Le Pharo.”
    Elena leaned over and kissed Reboul on the cheek. “It’s a deal.”
    —
    Sam was by now getting used to Elena’s determination not to be outdressed by French women. Banned from the bedroom, he had settled into the sitting room next door to wait for her to appear. They were going to Nice for a meeting with Coco Dumas in her office, and, as Elena had explained more than once, her appearance would send a strong signal. French women take these things seriously; they are quite open about inspecting another woman’s outfit, and, if it passes scrutiny, she is more likely to be treated as an equal, worthy of respect.
    “Well, what do you think?” Elena stood framed in the bedroom doorway, wearing a simple silk dress the color of pale lavender that set off her black hair and lightly tanned complexion.
    “Lovely,” said Sam. “You look good enough to eat. She’ll be insanely jealous.”
    “Perfect. Let’s go.”
    The drive from Marseille to Nice is an easy run on the
autoroute,
and they arrived at the Negresco with half an hour to spare before the appointment, plenty of time to take in the sea air along the Promenade des Anglais, an elegant thoroughfare built in 1830 with English money. Its