Island in the Sea (18 page)

“But you left Ireland because it didn't have opportunities,” Lionel protested. “That's why you live in London.”

“But we're still in the same time zone and she understands when I comment about the tube or Prince Harry's red hair.” She stopped and looked at Lionel. “You're the one who mentioned children. How could we start a family without grandparents nearby to feed them creamed corn and read
Paddington Bear
?”

“It's the end of the twentieth century. You could fly from Heathrow to LAX faster than you can drive on the M-16 on a holiday weekend.” He reached for her hand. “Why would we want to go back to constant rain and snarled traffic when we can eat under fruit trees in the middle of the city?”

“Because life isn't about owning a convertible or eating a perfectly poached artichoke. It's about sharing your accomplishments with the people you love and keeping your promises.” She suddenly jumped up. “We said we'd be here for a year and that's what I intend to do. I have to go. You can finish my mesquite swordfish with steamed broccollini.”

*   *   *

Lionel drank a long gulp of his Bloody Mary and thought he never loved Samantha more. He wanted to spend every night with her pressed against his chest. He wanted to have an army of blond children with grubby fists and knobby knees.

He glanced at a couple stepping into a cream Jaguar and thought why did it have to be so difficult? They could have houses in Los Angeles and London and Paris. They could take their children to Walt Disney World and sailing in the Bahamas.

He put his fork on his plate and signaled the waiter.

“Chef Lars wanted to tell you dinner is complimentary.” The waiter approached him. “He made his special triple-layer chocolate cake, he is a big fan of your song.”

Lionel gazed at dark chocolate surrounded by raspberries and whipped cream. He put his napkin on his plate and stood up.

“Tell Lars thank you,” he mumbled. “But I don't want any bloody dessert.”

*   *   *

Lionel took off his cuff links and dropped them on the Regency desk. He heard the bedroom door open and saw Samantha wearing a pink cotton robe and slippers.

“I'll sleep in the living room.” He looked up. “Don't worry, I have my own pillow.”

“My mother called,” Samantha said. “You invited her and my father to the Grammys. You sent them plane tickets and booked a suite at the Beverly Hills Hotel.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise.” Lionel poured a glass of scotch from the crystal decanter.

“My mother has lived in the same fishing village for fifty years.” Samantha smiled. “She's terrible at keeping secrets.”

“How often do we get invited to the Grammys? I thought they would like to attend.” Lionel shrugged. “I invited my mother too. They can go shopping on Rodeo Drive and play bingo in the Polo Lounge.”

“I was wrong when I said life was about sharing your accomplishments with the ones you love.” Samantha approached him. “It's also about compromise. We don't have to make decisions about the future now. Why don't we just try to enjoy ourselves.”

“What did you have in mind?” Lionel raised his eyebrow.

“I did a little shopping of my own.” She slipped off the robe and revealed a red push-up bra and lace panties.

“Where did you get those?” Lionel gasped, loosening his tie.

“I stopped in La Perla on the way home.” She took his hand and led him to the sofa. “I couldn't decide between a black camisole and this push-up bra and lace panties.”

“You definitely made the right decision,” he whispered, kissing her softly on the mouth.

She stepped out of the panties and let them fall to the floor. He inhaled her scent of floral perfume and lavender bubble bath and never wanted to let her go.

She sat on his lap and unbuttoned his shirt. She put her hand underneath his slacks and felt his hardness. She unzipped his slacks and positioned her body above his.

He unsnapped the bra and let it fall from her shoulders. He laid back against the silk cushions and felt like Paul Newman or Robert Redford.

“I think we'd be more comfortable on the bed,” he murmured.

“We better hurry,” she whispered. “I can't wait another minute.”

He lifted her up and carried her into the bedroom. She pulled him down on the bed and opened her legs. She wrapped her arms around him and drew him inside her. He felt the soft curve of her stomach and silky stretch of her thigh and creamy perfection of her breasts. He gathered her in his arms and heard her gasp. Then he came so violently he thought he would never stop.

He tucked her against his chest and pulled the crisp white sheet around their shoulders. He saw the open copy of
Vanity Fair
and yellow Hi-Liter. He let out his breath and murmured:

“You seduced me so I could help you with your paper on Thackeray.”

Then he closed his eyes and wondered if you could die from being so happy.

*   *   *

“I bought these cuff links for my first Grammys,” Lionel mused, gazing at his gold cuff links. “Montblanc twenty-four carat gold, handmade in Switzerland. Whoever said clothes don't make the man never wore a custom Armani tuxedo and alligator Ferragamos. I entered the Shrine Auditorium and felt like Cary Grant. I convinced Samantha to wear a red Valentino gown, she looked like Lana Turner.” Lionel finished his martini. “I'm going to take the chicken out of the oven. You probably would rather join a friend for some tapas.”

“I'm starving and getting a little tired of tapas,” Juliet admitted. “I'd love to stay for dinner.”

“Why don't you go onto the terrace.” Lionel walked to the kitchen. “I'll take the wine out of the fridge and rustle up a salad.”

*   *   *

Lionel stood at the kitchen counter and gazed out the window. He saw Juliet sitting under the trellis, rubbing her lips with pink lip-gloss. He saw her smooth brown hair and long legs and felt something tighten in his chest. He selected a Didier Pouilly-Fumé and walked into the garden.

chapter seventeen

J
ULIET STOOD ON THE BALCONY
and inhaled the scent of jasmine and azaleas. It was Saturday morning and the plaza was filled with men wearing linen shorts and suede loafers. Women wore wide straw hats and oversized sunglasses and soft leather sandals.

She walked inside and stood in front of her closet. She was meeting Gabriella, and they were going to visit the outdoor markets. She pictured stalls of pink radishes and colored sea salts. She imagined roasted pig and sausage and realized she was starving.

She remembered dinner with Lionel on the terrace and smiled. It had been surprisingly pleasant to sit at the round table and eat potato soup and warm baguettes. It was lovely to sip a smooth cabernet and listen to his stories about performing for President Clinton and having afternoon tea with Prince Charles.

It was only when they were nibbling Gloria's macaroons and she asked if he was writing new songs that she saw his shoulders tighten. She remembered him downing a double shot of cognac and grinding his cigarette into the silver ashtray.

She glanced at Lydia's cell phone on the desk and flinched. She had stayed awake all night wondering what to do. It would be so easy to send the recording to Gideon. She pictured him listening to Gabriella's high, clear voice and knew her job would be secure.

She selected a lavender dress and felt her stomach rise to her throat. Gabriella was kind and generous; she couldn't possibly betray her friend. Then she pictured Hugo sitting in the restaurant with a dark-haired girl and shivered. She would do anything to stop her from getting her heart broken.

Gabriella and Hugo had been together for four years, surely Gabriella would sense if he were seeing another woman. She would spend the morning with Gabriella and see if there was something she wasn't telling her. Then she would decide if she should send the clip to Gideon.

She walked down the wood staircase and entered the hotel lobby.

“Miss Lyman,” the concierge called. “It's lovely to see you. I hope you are going to visit our Saturday markets. The plaza is filled with stalls selling fresh seafood and ripe fruits and local chutney.”

“I'm meeting a friend there.” Juliet nodded. “I'm afraid I'll buy too much, everything sounds delicious.”

“You have a delivery.” He pointed to a ceramic vase filled with tulips and roses. “Should I send them to your room?”

“These are for me?” Juliet gasped, approaching the desk.

“I've never seen such a large bouquet.” The concierge nodded. “Here is the card.”

Juliet slipped the ivory card in her purse and ran down the hotel steps. She was about to pull it out when she heard her phone buzz.

“I hope you like the flowers. I'm sorry I missed dinner last night.” Henry's voice came over the line. “The reporter wanted to discuss the history of tennis upsets since Björn Borg defeated Jimmy Connors at Wimbledon. I was desperate to leave but my coach kicked me under the table and whispered they would give me the cover.”

“They're spectacular. The concierge was worried how he would get them up the staircase.” Juliet giggled.

“I am playing an exhibition match at Los Monteros in Marbella on Monday. I'll be challenging the fifth-ranked player in the world and really I'd like you to be there.

“Málaga is an hour's flight and a private car would take us to Marbella,” he continued. “Los Monteros is one of the most exclusive resorts in the world with a one-star Michelin restaurant and private beach club. The suites have roof decks and you can see the Rock of Gibraltar.”

“I don't know if I can take the time,” Juliet stammered.

“It would only be one night.” He paused. “I'd play better if you were watching and after we could eat tiger prawns at El Corzo and listen to the piano at Bar Azul.”

“Can I let you know tonight?” Juliet asked.

“Take your time.” Henry's voice was suddenly soft. “And Juliet, I don't mind if you want separate rooms.”

*   *   *

Juliet entered the plaza and saw stalls filled with purple cauliflower and red peppers. She inhaled the scent of fresh baked bread and her shoulders relaxed

“There you are.” Gabriella approached her. She wore a wide straw hat and carried a wicker shopping basket. “I was afraid I was going to have to eat the basket of peaches by myself.”

“I've never seen so many kinds of fruits and vegetables,” Juliet mused.

“Farmers come from all over the Tramuntana Valley and the fishermen haul the fish up from Puerto de Sóller,” Gabriella explained. “Hugo and I used to come every Saturday.”

Juliet gazed at a bunch of yellow sunflowers and suddenly pictured the ceramic vase filled with tulips and roses. She remembered the ivory card and Henry's invitation to go to Marbella.

“You look a little pale.” Gabriella frowned. “Let's sit at an outdoor café and drink a bottle of lemonade.”

“Henry called and asked me to go to Marbella,” Juliet said, sipping the fizzy drink. “He's playing an exhibition match at Los Monteros. He said I could have my own room and we'd go to dinner and dancing.”

“My grandmother took me there when I was little.” Gabriella ate a sliced peach. “The lobby was gold and white marble and the pool was made of mosaic tiles. The rooms were decorated in all white and my cheeseburger was served on a porcelain plate.” She sighed. “I would do anything to go there on our honeymoon.”

“Henry and I haven't known each other long, and I'll be going back to America soon.” Juliet hesitated.

“You said Henry told you he loved you.”

“But he travels all over the world and I live in Los Angeles,” Juliet said. “Even if we were in the same place, I spend all day in the recording studio and nights at smoky nightclubs. I wouldn't have time to Rollerblade on Venice beach or dine at trendy restaurants in Brentwood.”

“When Hugo and I had been dating six months my father called us into his study,” Gabriella began. “We entered the room and he was wearing a navy blazer and collared shirt and tie. His hair was slicked back and he wore tan slacks and leather loafers.

“I was nervous because he usually wears a shirt with the sleeves rolled up and white chinos. He poured us each a glass of brandy and said nothing was more important than his daughter's happiness. Then he asked Hugo what were his plans for the future.

“I glanced at Hugo and my stomach rose to my throat. He was twenty-two with barely enough money to buy me a scoop of tiramisu or a bunch of daisies. He put his glass on the coffee table and told my father one day he would have his own restaurant. He would buy a beautiful villa and spend every day making me happy.

“I felt his hand graze my palm and knew that everything we faced we would do together. Love doesn't disappear in the face of obstacles; it grows stronger. If you and Henry love each other you'll find a way to see him play in London and Melbourne and he'll send you flowers and chocolates while he's away.” She stopped and her cheeks flushed. “And when you are together you'll feel so complete, you'll forget you were apart.”

“You make it sound simple.” Juliet sipped her lemonade.

Gabriella finished the peach and her face broke into a smile. “At least you'll drink daiquiris in a beachside cabana and mingle with royalty. Los Monteros is the favorite resort of the prince and princess of Spain.”

*   *   *

They strolled through the stalls and bought jars of jam and bottles of vinegar and olive oil. They tried on pearl necklaces and leather espadrilles. Gabriella took off her hat and tied a silk scarf around her hair.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

Juliet gazed at the patterned fabric and noticed Gabriella's ruby earrings.

“Your earrings are gorgeous,” she said, fingering a silver bracelet.