ARROW - 203. Chapter 203

The morning seemed to come fast or I was just more tired last night than normal. Showering, dressed I headed for the kitchen. I could smell the coffee as I came down the steps from my bedroom. Walking into the kitchen, there were two hung-over friends.

Loudly, “Good morning.”

“Shhh. Not so loud.”

“You better sober up quickly. You don’t want Michael to see you in that condition.” I was laughing when the boys came down.

“Chef Boy, what do you suggest for a hangover.”

“Raw egg.” Saying that he cracked two eggs into two cups, handing them to Jean and Roger. Jean took one look, then ran upstairs. We could hear him gagging. Roger shut his eyes and swallowed. Then he quickly drank a cup of hot coffee.

“Dad, he’ll cook those eggs in his stomach as soon as that hot coffee hits them.”

Thinking about that we laughed. Turned out his coffee wasn’t that hot.

“Dad, we need to go shopping. Charles will need a suitcase and some clothes. We have been washing out his clothes each night,”

“We can do it tonight after we hang the painting. Get his sizes. That way we can go fast. We can always get more clothes when we are home.”

I didn’t think we would need a suitcase, For a few clothes they could fit into mine or Carl’s.

“There’s Allard. He’s going to help us to take the painting to the mausoleum. We have to crate it, so let’s go.

As we were leaving, I heard wait for me. It was Roger.

Jean and Roger rode up front, I rode with the boys in the back. We sat with our backs against the cab of the truck. I was in the middle, a boy on each side with my arm around them. I had two happy boys.

Stopping at the Louvre, we went directly to the basement to get our painting. Gathering pieces of wood, we covered the painting

While the boys wrapped the painting in special paper wrapping. I found a collection of antique nails. I wanted the heads. I took 8 of the nails and cut the heads off. I put the heads in my pocket, placing the painting in the back of the truck, we slowly headed to the mausoleum.

Arriving, there was Christian and Arnaud. “Good morning. How do you feel Arnaud?”

“I’m excited. Are you truly going to hang it today?”

“Yes, I need to check the frame to be sure it will hold the painting.”

Allard set one of the ladders against the wall, climbed up, and tested the frame.

“It’s solid.’

“Good. Come down we’ll need the other ladder,”

He came down, and Roger, Jean, and I went to get the painting. Christian took a chair out of the trunk of the car and set it up for Arnaud to sit in it.

We removed the protected cover. “Look at Arnaud. He’s like a little boy on Christmas morning.”

With the cover removed, the painting seemed to shine in the sun’s light.

“Dad, look.” A few cars were stopping and pulling to the side watching.

I told Allard how we were going to hang the picture. I gave him half of the stainless nails.

With each of us taking a side, carefully step by step we climb the ladder. Reaching the top corner, a nail was driven into the frame’. I smiled as we nailed the last two bails in the top piece. Descending, we nailed the middle section and finally the bottom.

“Allard, leave the ladders, we have a finishing touch.” Handing him half of the nail covers and a tube of the glue we used on the frame. I showed him what I wanted he smiled. I went and sat on the ground next to Arnaud.

It didn’t take Allard long. Ladders removed, we sat there watching the sunrise.

I heard GG, now all of the angels want a painting. Without realizing it, “They will need to come and pose for it.”

“Dad, who are you talking to.”

“The other angels.” Then I laughed.

When the sun was high in the sky, the sunbeams brought Michael alive, so it seemed. I heard Arnaud gasp. I felt his hand tighten on my shoulder. I was afraid he was having a heart attack. “Arnaud, are you okay?” His face seemed to glow.

We must have sat there for several hours, cars stopped, and people got out of their cars, and stood looking at the painting, offering prayers.

Several newspaper reporters and photographers came and wanted a story to go with the painting. One asked if that painting was the same one shown at the Louvre. I let Christian handle them. I no longer owned the painting.

As the crowd gather I moved further away. Soon I could see Arnaud, he was close to the painting and was sitting, I didn’t have to think about putting a light there, the people will demand it.

I was absorbed in the painting so when I heard a voice I was startled, “I’m sorry, the gentleman in the chair said you painted that.”

“Yes, my son and I painted Michael for a friend.”

Jean and Roger saw me talking to that reporter. I laughed as I saw them coming at me. The artillery was arriving, walking instead of riding on horseback.

Upon their arrival, they started to answer the reporter’s question. I saw Christian help his dad up.

“I think Arnaud’s ready to go home. We need to leave as well.”

“If you have any more questions, stop at the Louvre and I’ll be able to answer all of your questions.” I saw Jean give the reporter his card.

Jean and Roger rode back with Arnaud, and I and the boys rode with Allard. I was in the cab, the boys were in the back.

“Allard, the boys and I are going home tomorrow. I need to buy some clothes for them, where do you recommend I go.”

“There is a shopping street not far from where you live. I could drop you off there.”

“I appreciate that. We can take a taxi back. You go home and I’ll see you next time I am in Paris.” I thought when I said that it would be in the near future,

He did drop us off and foolishly got out of the truck to point out the boy's store and taxi stand. I took the opportunity to drop an envelope with money for his help.

As soon as he headed back to his truck, “Quick, we need to hide.” We went into the first store which by luck had various travel suitcases. I told the boys to pick out a small suitcase. Someone wanted a portfolio case like mine.

I watched Allard get out of his truck look around and then drive off. I knew he would give the envelope to Jean.

With Allard gone, we went clothes shopping. It was fun to watch Chef Boy. Carl would pick out a shirt, he should check the price, saying too high, and he would put it back for a cheaper shirt. The shirt Carl picked out went into my basket. When it came to shoes, he picked a cheap pair I knew wouldn’t last long. Those he carried with him. Carl looked at me.

“We will get better shoes at home.”

Now a taxi ride home. Chef Boy to the rescue. He hailed a taxi and showed him his University card. The driver didn’t like it evidently university students can travel at reduced fares. I paid the price on the meter plus a tip. The driver was surprised, I smiled and thanked him for a quick trip home.

“Carl, just rinse out the clothes he’s going to wear tomorrow.”

That evening, we sat in the living room discussing the events of the day. “Arnaud couldn’t stop talking about the painting.”

“He wanted to know why the bluebird but said it added another dimension to the painting.”

“I have one concern with the painting. It will be exposed to the elements and I’m not sure it will hold up.”

“It has some protection with the slight overhang of the mausoleum.”

“I think it should be under glass. Maybe a small roof over the top. Jean, what do you think,”

“We shouldn’t do anything while Arnaud is still here with us. After, the glass and roof can be completed.”

“We should let Christian know what we are going to do to protect the painting.”

“Did you see Arnaud’s face while you were mounting the painting? I swear it glowed.”

“That young man, Allard, is a very competent carpenter. He said he learned from his father.”

“I wish I had two more like him. Self-motivated, does excellent work, and works smart,”

“If he ever wants to come to the States, let him know I’ll get him his tickets.”

“One way I’ll bet.”

“Charles would love to have him work for him.”

“Dad, dinner’s ready.”

“Jean, the next time you are over, our Chef Boy will surprise you with the specialty of the club.”

“Dad, will Uncle James teach him? He may not like him.”

“What is there to not like? A sassy young man, limited talent, in a strange land, not being able to speak English, Chef James will have a ball.” I watched Charles as I said that. I could see the anger and then the smile. He knew I was teasing him. I’m sure Carl told him about the chefs at the club.

That more or less set the mood around the dinner table.