Margarita and Luca, book 1. Julia Alex A.

Margarita and Luca, book 1 - Julia Alex A.


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a blanket, frustrated, with wet eyes: “Why can’t I socialize with a person, if he is a man?! And that was not supposed to be a date, just an invitation to a big company of outstanding individuals, where I could have much fun tonight… And I escaped as if a pervert was molesting me. The misfortune I had had with husbands seem to have affected me deeply… I was going to meet Luca… He would come all the way to Paris wishing to meet me and I would get frightened and escape next second like a horse hearing a gun shot! He’s not guilty of anything and doesn’t deserve a bad treat. I’m missing HIM so much. It’s incredible – to miss somebody, who I’ve seen only one time for few minutes on the plane. This must mean something. And he assures me he feels the same. But probably this Italian is just lying like everyone else. Like every man. He thinks: “I bet that could be an engrossing adventure!”, while I may fall in love… Or am I already there? No, I will not survive another derangement: my heart will not bear it. That arrhythmia was serious”. She remembered THAT DAY. Her heart stopped literally. It just gave up for few seconds, then three fast rapid beats and then a silence again. Few months like that. Exactly like her grandma’s brother had had, then’d died at the age of thirty one. “My emotions often brim over… This is no good. I treat men too serious… But what can I do to it? I’m a woman”.

      Few days of meetings and luncheons at various restaurants with utterly delicious meals and snacks from boulangeries-pâtisseries , the whole group of colleagues realized you can’t possibly find a mediocre restaurant in France. Even a tiny café on the side-street would surprise you with a unique dainty.

      Besides, the time before catholic Christmas Paris is peculiarly beautiful with its festive illumination and pretty silver fir trees at hotels.

      At six in the morning nine men and Margot were standing at the railway station waiting for the train to Switzerland to arrive. Six hours later they were on the railway station platform in Geneva.

      She saw internet café by the station and ran towards it.

      –What are you doing, Margaret?!?! – her boss was mad.

      At that point she saw stars, but managed the anger. This girl had been used to hold emotions since childhood, when it was a must in order to survive. Having paid the fee, she hurried to the computer in the far corner.

      Eventually there was a mail from him!!!

      Luca’s letter.

      «I start to be afraid of flood now… It’s been raining for 3 days already.

      In spite of it the construction has still been proceeding and now a big part of the floor is finished!!

      That's gripping what you said and I'm trying to imagine your expression when you’re thinking about these things…

      In my opinion one is what he has lived, if it's clear what I mean, this is life and for what I’ve understood yours must have been quite advanced. Now I'm more curios than loaded so don't worry.

      I meet a lot of people from all over the world for work, and I perceive sort of… "skin feeling". Most of the time that helps me a lot recognize who I have in front of me. On that plane I saw a very solar person that surprised me with her simplicity. For me the most important virtues are honesty and respect, rare things to find.

      I've read your email more and more, and still thousands of questions may

      appear but too many to be written or a multitude where just an expression

      could answer better than hundreds of words. I’m really dreaming to meet you one day, a glass of good wine and a talk looking into your eyes. Do you think it could be possible?

      I'm a very patient and quite person, not afraid to go ahead if I

      really crave for something (I think the precise words are “as stubborn as a mule”?!?!?)

      Normally, I do not have to ponder over it, it comes naturally: if

      there is something that I do not like in a person, "distance" comes out

      automatically. Considering how much I like talking with you (even if sometimes I will be

      incomprehensible…) it shouldn't be your case…

      Ps I’m quite old-fashioned and ask my friends to send me postcards from the countries where they travel. Could you do it too? »

      The address was attached below.

      She was reading it again and again, while the boss was standing behind the window waving impatiently his hand with a huge golden ring signing they had to hurry up. She nodded and went out. Boss asked something but the girl didn’t hear – her thoughts were too far. She bought a few postcards on the way, planning to ask a concierge to send them to Italy.

      They went straight to the address where the first meeting was. Margot was destroyed from the trip, but three cups of coffee recharged the brain. Meetings were non-stop all day. The interpreter’s tongue seemed not hers anymore. But every business partner seeing the blonde tried to speak up more than necessary trying to socialize and spend some more time beside the beauty. She was going to burst, but didn’t, trying to remember how much she is paid and other bright sides of the job.

      Geneva was beautiful: a huge lake in the middle and fine architecture with old buildings and monuments, a chain of restaurants on the shore, and a great deal of bazaar-shops and expensive jewelry stores with rings and necklaces of all possible kinds and coloures of brilliants and other valuable stones, shining under the sun beams.

      Hanging around, she bought a red scarf and picked up the most fashionable restaurant: “I definitely deserve it!”.

      Snowy-white tablecloth, Pinot Noir , an amazing view of the lake from the panoramic window, palatable food. “I love Switzerland!”: the blonde felt on top of the world, roaming about sun lighted streets in her favorite red leather jacket.

      Few days later she returned to Russia, cold and gloomy at that time of the year. “Mendeleyev must have invented vodka in the end of November”: she thought, trying to warm her hands breathing at them desperately while waiting for the taxi at Sheremetievo airport.

      CHAPTER 3

      “Sorry for the delay....

      There are some pictures of the latest renovation. May be they just give an idea of some area, once finished I'll try to do better:

      8128 there will be the kitchen, after the furniture is installed probably the only visible part will be the one in the

      middle....

      8135 That’s how the road looked when I went to pick up some ceramics… It was incredible, I’d planned that day in advance and look at the weather!! It took a bit longer but I love driving when it’s snowing.

      8009-8148 The kitchen area before and after…

      8138 The bathroom floor, I know that's hard to keep clean but I had to…

      The wall will be white with something in the shower but I’m not telling you the details, sorry. Next time I hope it will be finished.

      I've received most of the materials and this week work will speed up hopefully… I don't know in Russia but here builders are crazy…

      About wall colors I still have to decide (help!). I put clear floor in the living room-kitchen to give light, while in the bedroom it will be wooden and in my bathroom – dark with a white graphic ornament. It’s all is half installed. I'll take some new pictures this weekend, better to show....

      The style will be modern, about decoration – it's your turn, I’m all ears. Suggest whatever.

      Honestly I thought about something but…

      it seems that your boss presses you a little bit. Is everything ok? Is it a long time that you work with him? I don't know there but here the end of the year is the worst at work..

      Her letter

      “I like your taste, I would do almost the same. I like the floor in the bathroom. The sport club that I attend has black floor and walls


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