I'm not surprised by the chauffeur's presence when we head outside, looking at Mom's face, she's so pleased with the arrangement and accept that it's just the way it's supposed to be.
A bold entitlement written across her face and haughty attitude.
Her ears turned a much darker hue from the pleasure coursing through her veins by this grand gestures, especially when the chauffeur opens the back door and uttered the magic word.
" This way madame and miss, my employer conveys his heartfelt appreciation for accepting his invitation."
Mom nods a little acknowledging the message.
Oh, the twinkle in her eyes surpasses the most shimmering stars and planets in the galaxies.
The Mercedes-Benz Cabriolet, simply screams old money a blend of timeless luxury and understated elegance.
I casually slid in the car, tantalizing my eyes with high grade Nappa leather upholstery, open-pore woods, and satin-finished metal accents, making the cabin whispers exclusive.
My eyes closed by the sheer experience of this smooth ride.
When the car stopped, I held every ounce of discipline to keep gawking at the facade of the hotel, a symphony of symmetry, ornate detailing and dignified scale, with grand entrances, sculpted stone, towering columns, intricate wrought iron arched windows, mansard roofs and classical motifs.
I live and breath about classical things, courtesy of my mother, it's her love language, her mother tongue.
The maitre d' ushered us to the designated table, and by Lord's grace, the settings is Superb! Before it's just an endless lessons, now I'm drinking the sight.
At the end of my line of vision stops my commune with classical things, a sour taste rise in my mouth.
Standing across the table is Sir Renoir, she flirtatiously crossed the distance and coquettishly offered her cheeks for the half hearted welcome of Sir Renoir for her presence, when he leans in my way with great enthusiasm, I turned my head, earning a deathly stare from him.
We sat down, browse the menus, I for one simply look at it, looking without seeing, listening to the hushed conversation without comprehending, inclining my head without understanding.
Dinner starts with amuse-bouche, a tiny complimentary bite from the chef, an appetizers of gourmet Tartares followed by artisanal salads with house-made dressings, a Duck confit, a sides of Gratin potatoes, and Artisanal ice cream, lastly a Mignardises, small pastries accompanied by never ending tea, how I wish it's a black coffee with lots of sugar.
Looking at the rim of his sparkling water, a devilish gleam appears, " you' ve got a healthy appetite, the joy of youth."
" Food is universal Sir, it should be relish as the Creator make it so."
" With me you'll never know hunger." He smiled patronizingly.
" There's a lot of hunger, not only from the belly, Sir Renoir." I directly challenged his patronizing air.
"Enough of this talk my dearest Portia, it's unbecoming for a fine lady."
" Pardon my poor behavior mom." Without batting an eye I scornfully looked at him with a dripping sweetness I address him to appease my mom.
" Sorry Sir Renoir I forgot my place, thank you for this sumptuous meal." I stand tactfully, signaling the end for this elaborate charade of a dinner.
" The pleasure is always mine, Portia. Until next time."
He doesn't rise from his sprawled sitting position, he just raised his snifter of Courvoisier brandy, " my chauffeur return you to your villa."
With a slight hand gesture the maitre d' materialize, escorting us outside.
As we traveled, mother never uttered a single word or non verbal admonition, she just closed her eyes and keep her thoughts as her company.
