“Flix, you say?” asked the well-dressed lady. “What a positively outlandish name. I mean no offense, Mr. Flix, but really, isn’t that the kind of moniker that should be headlining a comic strip or a vaudeville act?”
“No offense taken, madam. I could not agree with you more. But it is my real name, and I must carry it with me, like an albatross about my neck, until I meet my Maker. And beyond, I suppose. I am one of those poor souls whose name brings, if not a belly laugh, then a discreet smile, when it is proclaimed loudly across a crowded room.
You may simply call me Flix if you wish.”
The man was small, slight of build, but with an enormously rich head of salt-and-pepper hair, cropped and neatly trimmed, and a mustache that lent its wearer a look of worldly sophistication. He had piercing, dark eyes that were quick and intelligent.
He was wearing a linen suit, ivory in color, and a maroon silk bow tie. His shoes were black and charcoal wingtips. His crisp white shirt showed no sign of a wrinkle. The crease in his pants was so defined that it looked as if it would slice your finger. An aura of obsessive neatness surrounded him. He was a walking advertisement for the modern male.
“Well, if I may be so forward as to ask, what is your full name, Mister Flix? Excuse me. I mean Flix.”
“Florian Valentine, madam. But my mother called me, Golden.”
With that, the poor woman lost all control. She laughed heartily, in spite of herself.
“Oh, Flix. Please forgive me. I am sorry. I really do not know what came over me. It must be my nerves.”
“Oh. Think nothing of it, madam. I often get such a response whenever I reveal my given name. I am quite used to it. But I am sorry to hear you have a nervous condition.”
“Oh, yes, Flix. That is why I am here. To rest them, you know. My nerves.
At home, it seemed as if any little thing just set me off. I am so edgy. So . . . I don’t know how to describe how I feel. Jumpy. Perhaps that is the word that describes me, nowadays.
My husband recently passed.”
“Oh, I am so sorry.”
“No need to be. Just a fact of life. But I felt that a vacation would help. My lawyer suggested a stay here. Why in the world he recommended this place, instead of the South of France, is a mystery to me. But he handles my affairs, and I trust him implicitly. So, I agreed to come.”
“Well, Mrs. Hood, the scenery is very beautiful, wouldn’t you agree? The accommodations are first-rate.”
“Yes, I quite agree. The views are spectacular, if you like that sort of thing.”
“And the air is so unlike the city. Fresh and clean. It is why I have come here, for a respite.”
“Oh, good heavens! You are not one of those lungers, are you? I mean, when I signed myself into this place, I did it because I didn’t think they allowed hackers here!”
“Oh no. No, dear lady. Do not trouble yourself over such matters. I do not have tuberculosis. Nothing like that, I assure you.
I don’t know what you would call what I have. Malaise? I am just not quite myself. Perhaps, it is nothing more than an acute case of laziness. I am joking, of course, Mrs. Hood.
I am here to rest. To recharge. To breathe the fresh air and to allow the sunshine and Mother Nature’s beauty to heal my weary body.”
“Bad nerves, too, Flix?”
“That is as good an explanation as any, I suppose, Mrs. Hood.
I do not have those illustrious M.D. letters following my name. My doctor said this place would be beneficial for me. So, I believe it is in my best interest to take the physician’s advice. Don’t you?”
“If I could find a doctor who is worth his fee, I most certainly would.”
“Besides, the greenhouses on this property are most excellent. I will be able to lose myself in them, I am happy to say. And a commune with Nature may possess the healing qualities that medicine does not, don’t you agree?” Flix asked.
“I suppose so.”
“I feel recharged, already, Mrs. Hood. And that is good.”
“How grand!” Mrs. Hood exclaimed. “Well, then, we shall recharge together. I am so glad that I have met you, Flix. One feels such a stranger in a new place, you know.”
“Quite so, Mrs. Hood. But now, I must excuse myself. I was promised a tour of the East Greenhouse by the head gardener here, a Mr. Emil Jannins, I believe, and I must not keep him waiting.”
“Oh, of course. Of course. Perhaps, we shall meet later up top!”
“Up top?”
“Why, yes, Flix. I hear they have the most marvelous sun patio on the roof. We can bake and broil and cook our pale skin to our heart’s content.”
Flix had no intention of broiling himself like a lobster, but he did not want to hurt Mrs. Hood’s feelings.
“Perhaps, madam. Perhaps. One never knows just what will evolve as the day unfolds.”
“Yes. That’s so true, sir. Good day, then.”
“And to you, Mrs. Hood.”