The City of Your Final Destination by Peter Cameron Page B

biography of my father?”
    â€œI hope to,” said Omar.
    Arden appeared with a tray. On it was a bottle of champagne and several glasses.

    â€œHe helped me set the table,” said Portia. “Look how he folded the napkins.”
    â€œVery nice,” said Arden.
    â€œHe’s writing a biography,” said Portia.
    â€œIs he?” asked Arden.
    â€œYes,” said Portia. “Of Jules.”
    â€œIs he?” asked Arden.
    â€œI only said I hope to,” said Omar.
    â€œWould you like a glass of champagne, Omar?” asked Arden.
    â€œChampagne?” asked Portia. “Why champagne?”
    â€œCaroline wanted champagne. Why don’t you go up and tell her that dinner is ready? Now that the food is cooked and the table is set she may make her entrance.”
    Portia entered the house.
    Arden looked at Omar. “Champagne,” she said. “Yes? No?”
    â€œYes, please,” said Omar.
    Arden poured two glasses of champagne and handed one to Omar.
    â€œThank you,” he said.
    â€œSit down,” said Arden.
    Omar sat. “Cheers,” he said, lifting his glass.
    â€œYes,” said Arden. “Cheers.”
    They both sipped from their glasses.
    â€œIt’s very kind of you to let me stay here,” said Omar. “I want to apologize again for intruding.”
    Arden shrugged. “In a way I admire you for showing up like that.”
    Omar seemed to blush a little. He sipped his champagne.
    â€œNot many people would have come all this way on the basis of so little,” said Arden.
    â€œNo,” said Omar. “But there was nothing else I could think to do.”
    â€œSo you came all this way.”

    â€œYes,” said Omar.
    â€œWell, I think that entitles you to at least a glass of champagne.”
    They were silent a moment. Omar looked around the courtyard, then up at the house, which surrounded them. “I like your house very much,” said Omar.
    â€œIt’s falling apart,” said Arden. “Of course, everything is falling apart, but things seem to be falling apart here a bit more quickly than usual. One day it will all come tumbling down, I’m sure.”
    â€œIs it very old?”
    â€œNo. The decay makes it look older than it is. It was built in 1935, when Jules’s parents came over. It’s supposed to be a replica of their schloss . They wanted the comfort of familiar architecture, so they tried to re-create a bit of Bavaria here in the new world. I think something got lost in the translation, though. Quite a bit, in fact.”
    â€œWhy did they come here?” Omar asked.
    â€œTo get away from Hitler,” said Arden. “Jules’s mother was Jewish.”
    â€œYes, of course,” said Omar. “I knew that. I mean why here, why Uruguay, why this spot?”
    â€œOh,” said Arden. “Jules’s family was in the mining business. There was a magnesium mine near here. Or a supposed one. They came under the pretense of running that. Uruguay let them in because they brought money with them, and promised to keep the mine open, and people employed, for a certain number of years. And they built this house, and dammed the river, and made the lake, and brought the gondola and almost everything they owned across the ocean.”
    They were silent a moment and then Omar asked, “How far is it to the lake?”
    â€œAbout three miles,” said Arden. “Maybe a bit farther. The road’s washed out, so you have to walk. There’s a shortcut through the woods.”
    â€œAnd is the gondola still there?”

    â€œYes,” said Arden. “It’s rotting in the boathouse. There is a key here somewhere. Or was. Things disappear.”
    â€œI would like to see it,” said Omar.
    â€œIt’s rather hideous,” said a voice behind them. They both turned and saw Caroline standing in the doorway, very beautiful in a blue dress with a black silk