Island in the Sea (24 page)

Lionel glanced down and saw a photo of Samantha wearing a white lace dress and clutching a bouquet of peonies. Her hair was covered by an ivory veil and she held hands with a man in a gray morning suit.

“Prominent London economist Brian Phillips marries socialite after a whirlwind romance.”

Lionel took the vodka and swallowed it one gulp. He sat on the leather chair and read out loud:

“Brian Phillips and Miss Samantha Highbridge were married today at St. Matthew's Church followed by a lavish reception at the Connaught. Mr. Phillips is a renowned economist who lectures at London University and Cambridge. He and Miss Highbridge met a month ago at a Princess Diana fundraiser at the home of Georgina Towers. The previously confirmed bachelor remarked:

“‘I never thought I'd get married; statistically love is a terrible investment. But the minute I saw Samantha I knew I had won the lottery.'

“The couple will reside in Chelsea and Cambridge.”

*   *   *

Lionel threw the paper on the desk and ran his hands through his hair.

“Samantha isn't a socialite, she's the bloody nanny! How could she marry a mathematician?” Lionel demanded. “And she's only been back in London for two months, that's not enough time to get back her dry cleaning.”

“Some women love whirlwind courtships, maybe he swept her off his feet,” Gideon said. “And he's a world-famous economist; not a mathematician. His algorithms were used at the economic conference at Davos.”

“He is at least ten years older and has a nose like a ski slope.” Lionel slumped in his chair. “Everything's ruined, I can't show up and tell her she made a terrible mistake and needs a divorce. Samantha would never go back on her word. And she got everything she wanted, a terrace house in Chelsea and access to King's College library.”

“I'm very sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen, but maybe you weren't meant to be together. Screaming fans and adoring women are part a musician's life, and you have to completely trust each other.” Gideon dusted crumbs from his jacket. “Perhaps it's better it ended now before you become a huge star. You're going to have everything you dreamed of. The tour was so successful I'm in talks with booking agents in Australia and Asia.”

Lionel gazed at the glaring sunshine streaming through the window. His shoulders sagged and his skin felt like sandpaper. He walked to the door and turned around.

“I may as well, I've always wanted to learn how to use chopsticks.”

*   *   *

Lionel sighed, sipping a Bloody Mary. “Alcohol gets a bad rap but it can be a great comfort. I would never have survived the next few months without a glass of 1986 Château Lafite-Rothschild at dinner and a snifter of Rémy Martin before bed. Speaking of fine wines, how was your evening with Henry?” Lionel asked. “Did you patch up your differences and make up?”

Juliet sat stiffly on the sofa. “I'm going back to California in less than a week and Henry will be traveling all over the world. I told him we should stop seeing each other.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Lionel said slowly.

Juliet fiddled with her gold necklace. “Gideon sent me another e-mail this morning. He wants to know when he'll receive his songs.”

“I haven't finished telling my story.” Lionel refilled his glass. “Even if I did want to fulfill the bloody contract, I don't think I could write more love songs. Love is the biggest Ponzi scheme in the world, everyone believes it but it's a scam.

“How many millions are spent on pink roses and chocolate truffles on Valentine's Day, only to be tossed in the garbage when the husband comes home with lipstick on his collar or the girlfriend writes a Dear John letter? How many diamond rings are exchanged at the altar only to be used as the down payment on a condo post divorce?” Lionel stirred his drink. “You're almost thirty and have never been in love, and I thought Samantha and I were a modern-day Anthony and Cleopatra. All it took was one magazine photo to tear us apart, we were no better than teenagers playing spin the bottle.”

“You've written the most popular love songs of the last twenty years,” Juliet protested.

“It was the only thing I knew how to do.” Lionel sighed. “I would have rather been an accountant or a doctor. At least when you set a broken bone, you can tell if you've fixed it. You could spend your whole life figuring out love and not be any wiser.”

“Do you mind if I get a glass of water?” Juliet stood up and walked to the kitchen.

Lionel sipped his drink and heard a loud crash. He raced into the kitchen and saw Juliet lying on the floor. One of her sandals had come off and her knee had a purple bruise.

“Are you all right? I should have warned you,” he gasped. “Gloria just waxed the floors. It's like a bloody skating rink.”

He knelt beside her and inhaled her lilac perfume. He gazed at her smooth hair and blue eyes and suddenly froze. He felt his heart pound and his throat was dry. He leaned forward and his hand brushed her cheek.

“I'm fine, it's just a bruise.” Juliet stood up and walked to the entry. “I have some errands to run. I know I have to make up some hours, could I come back this evening?”

Lionel studied her red knit dress and gold bangle. He saw her slender neck and long legs.

“This evening will be perfect.”

*   *   *

Lionel sat at the Regency desk in the living room and sifted through the bill from his London tailor and the tax notice for his flat in Chelsea. He gazed at the negative number on his charge account and the receipt for his order from Waterstones.

He sipped his Bloody Mary and wondered how he was going to pay Gideon back. Then he remembered Juliet's smooth cheeks and pink mouth. He groaned and thought he was in more trouble than he could imagine.

chapter twenty-three

J
ULIET STROLLED THROUGH THE
outdoor market in Sóller and gazed at the baskets of fresh peaches and apricots. She saw rows of thick sausages and lamb cutlets. She felt the sun on her cheeks and felt strangely light and happy.

She was going to Lydia's for lunch and she wanted to bring her a jar of preserves or a bouquet of sunflowers.

Ever since she left Casa Rosa she felt something stirring inside her. At first she thought she was shaken by slipping on the kitchen floor. Then she pictured Lionel leaning down to help her up and a shiver ran down her spine.

She thought of all their previous sessions when he talked about music and poetry. She pictured his hand brushing her cheek and sucked in her breath.

She hadn't gotten ill with Henry because she didn't believe in love. She was falling in love with Lionel. She sampled a plum and felt almost dizzy. She was being ridiculous; he was older and famous and probably had a Rolodex full of women he could call if he needed company. But she pictured him in his silk pajamas and John Lobb slippers and knew that wasn't true. Lionel was too serious; he didn't do anything casually.

She filled her basket with dates and persimmons. She added a bunch of purple daisies and took ten euros out of her purse. First she would go see Lydia and then she would figure out what to do about Lionel.

*   *   *

“Juliet!” Lydia exclaimed. “This is a treat. When you called I thought there was nothing I'd rather do than sit in the garden and eat baguettes and Mallorcan cheeses.”

“I have something to tell you, I didn't want to talk on the phone.” Juliet entered the living room.

“That sounds ominous.” Lydia frowned. “I found there's nothing that isn't made better by a delicious green salad and a bowl of gazpacho. Come onto the terrace, I poured two glasses of lemonade.”

“I told Gabriella about the recording contract.” Juliet sat at the wrought iron table. “She's furious, she won't speak to me.”

“I was curious why she didn't return my call.” Lydia smoothed her hair. She wore a cotton blouse and white capris and orange loafers. Her lips were coated with red lipstick and she wore emerald earrings.

“I told her you saw Hugo in the café and she said the woman was his cousin. Hugo and Gabriella picked out a diamond ring and as soon as he pays it off he's going to ask her parents for her hand in marriage,” Juliet continued. “She said now Hugo will think she doesn't want to marry him.”

“Why would he think that?” Lydia asked.

“She's afraid he will think he's holding her back,” Juliet replied. “I don't know how to make her forgive me.”

“When Felipe was seven I met a banker from Hong Kong.” Lydia nibbled spinach leaves and round red tomatoes. “James was British with sandy blond hair and blue eyes and the softest English accent. He rented a villa in Palma for the summer and we went sailing and danced at Bar Ábaco.

“We drove all over the island in his red Aston Martin and visited the Castell d'Alaró and the Alfabia Gardens,” Lydia continued. “He described his penthouse apartment in Hong Kong with its hundred-and-eighty-degree view of the harbor. I imagined wearing sleek black dresses and attending cocktail parties and elaborate dinners.

“One afternoon we strolled through the old section of Palma and stopped in front of my favorite jewelry store. James wanted to buy me a sapphire pendant but I protested we hardly knew each other and I couldn't accept a serious piece of jewelry.

“The next night we had dinner at Tristán's in Puerto Portals. It was the only Michelin star restaurant on the island, and James ordered salmon tartar and marinated scallops and a bottle of Möet & Chandon. He pulled out a black velvet box with a large emerald cut diamond and asked me to marry him.

“I was shocked and asked him to give me some time.” Lydia paused. “Then I went home to Felipe and asked how he would feel about moving to a new city.

“We pulled out an atlas and studied Hong Kong on the map. He traced the distance from Hong Kong to Majorca and his eyes filled with tears. He loved his grandparents and the cows and sheep on the farm. He didn't want to live in a skyscraper and eat strange foods and go to a school where he didn't know anyone.

“I told James I couldn't marry him.” Lydia dipped a baguette in olive oil. “He said we could wait until Felipe was older but he still wanted to be together.

“But I didn't want to spend my days waiting for James to return each summer. I told him it was best if we made a clean break.” Lydia stopped and looked at Juliet. “Perhaps Hugo isn't the one who would hold Gabriella back.”

“What do you mean?” Juliet asked.

“I sent James away because I was afraid I might weaken and make the wrong decision,” Lydia mused. “Maybe Gabriella thinks if she is given the opportunity she couldn't say no.”

“But she's always been certain she wants to marry Hugo and open the restaurant,” Juliet replied.

Lydia placed her fork on her ceramic plate.

“She's never had another choice.”

*   *   *

Lydia brought out a fruit salad with homemade vanilla ice cream.

“The peaches are delicious, I'm going to bake a pie with fresh whipped cream,” Lydia said. “You should bring Henry for dinner.”

Juliet's cheeks turned pale and she put down her spoon.

“Have I said something wrong?” Lydia asked.

“Henry is warm and handsome and everything I could ask for,” Juliet began. “But I realized I wasn't in love with him and told him we should stop seeing each other. I was afraid I wasn't capable of love, and then I slipped on Lionel's kitchen floor. He knelt down to help me up and suddenly all I wanted was for him to kiss me.

“He said he doesn't believe in love anymore,” Juliet continued. “If I tell him I could ruin everything, but if I don't I'm afraid I'll never feel like this again.”

“Everyone believes in love,” Lydia mused. “It's completely unpredictable and magic.”

Juliet imagined boarding the plane to Los Angeles. She saw long days in the recording studio and returning home to an empty apartment. She pictured curling up on the floral sofa with a tuna sandwich and a copy of
This Side of Paradise
.

Lydia looked at Juliet and smiled. “Love almost never happens to two people at the same time, but when it does it's like an Oscar de la Renta gown or Harry Winston diamond pendant. It takes your breath away and nothing can match it. There's only one thing you can do, you have to tell him.”

*   *   *

Juliet gazed around the plaza and saw couples sitting at outdoor cafés, sharing hazelnut tiramisu. It was late afternoon and the sun settled over the cobblestones. She saw vendors selling bunches of tulips and baskets of cherries.

It seemed so easy to do what Lydia suggested. But now she pictured Lionel nursing a scotch glass and smoking endless cigarettes and her heart pounded. If he didn't feel the same, she would be too embarrassed to continue their meetings and he would never fulfill his contract.

She thought about returning to Casa Rosa tonight and her stomach rose to her throat. She would call Lionel and tell him she had to write some important e-mails and would come in the morning.

She entered a boutique and gazed at the rows of chiffon dresses. She held one up in front of the mirror and admired the patterned fabric and pearl buttons.

The saleswoman approached her. “That would look wonderful with your hair. You should try it on with these silver sandals.”

Juliet shrugged and stepped into the dressing room. She gazed at her reflection and saw her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled.

She remembered sitting across from Henry at Los Monteros and trying to feel something special. She saw Lionel with his dark hair and green eyes and fine lines on his forehead. She remembered Lydia saying love was magic and unpredictable.

She unzipped the dress and slipped it on its hangar.

“What do you think?” the salesgirl asked.

Juliet handed her the dress and took a deep breath.