Nothing Like Love (15 page)

There were turrets and crenellated battlements and ivy-covered stone walls. There were arched windows and stained glass and a fountain in front of the entrance. Against the blue sky, banners fluttered.

As soon as they drew up in front of the entrance, Simone was out the door.

She walked a few paces until she was standing on the stone plinth in front of the fountain. She turned in a slow circle to take everything in, pausing for a moment when she caught a glimpse of ocean to the west, and then stared up at the magnificent three-hundred-year-old building she’d be staying in for the next two weeks.

It was the perfect setting for a gothic romance, but Simone would have to be a side character. No one would ever cast her as the heroine . . . at least not for the kind of love story that would happen here. A screwball comedy set in Manhattan, maybe.

At the sound of footsteps, she turned to see Zach and Isabelle coming up beside her.

Now there was a couple worthy of this background.

“I’d forgotten how lovely this place is,” Isabelle said softly, smiling at Zach and slipping her hand under his arm.

He smiled back at her, but then he looked at Simone. “What do you think? Does it meet your expectations?”

“Are you kidding? It’s amazing. How long—”

The massive doors to the castle stood open, and now someone came hurrying out to meet them.

It was a tiny female someone, and she flung her arms around Zach. “You’re here! You’re really here!”

She seemed barely older than Zach. But when she took a step back and smiled, Simone saw the touches of gray in her smooth, dark hair.

“Isabelle, it’s been too long,” she said. “How lovely to see you again.”

Then she turned to Simone. “You must be Simone. My name is Julia Hammond, but I hope you’ll call me Julia. Zach has told me so much about you.”

Zach had talked to his mother about her? What had he said?

She could tell from Isabelle’s expression that she was wondering the same thing.

“It’s nice to meet you, Julia,” Simone said. Suddenly she smiled. “It’s also nice to look a Hammond in the eye without getting a crick in my neck.”

Julia laughed. “Yes, Zach definitely got his height from his father.” She took a step back and looked at all three of them. “Well, now, you must be tired from your travels. Shall I show you your rooms, or—”

“If you don’t mind,” Isabelle put in firmly, “Zach and I were going to take a walk. But I’m sure that Simone would appreciate a chance to freshen up.”

She flashed a warm smile, and then she took Zach’s arm and led him away.

“Take good care of Simone,” Zach said over his shoulder.

“Of course,” his mother said.

“I’ll check on you when I get back,” he called out to Simone.

She gave him a thumbs-up. “You bet.”

Simone and Julia stood looking after the couple. Once they were out of earshot, Julia said, “I see Isabelle hasn’t lost her touch. She’s still brutally efficient when it comes to getting what she wants.”

Simone turned startled eyes on her, and Julia smiled. “I know, that sounded harsh. But I find that the older I get, the more I like to speak the truth—especially since I can’t say a word to Zach. Isabelle is the only thing we’ve ever disagreed on.” She sighed. “I just thank God she’s married.”

“But she’s not. I mean . . . she said she’s getting a divorce.”

Julia raised her eyebrows. “Again? This will make the third time in ten years. Don’t worry, Simone—this is just something Isabelle does every so often when she wants to bring her husband to heel.”

“You mean she jerks Zach around whenever she—” She stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry. This isn’t really my business.”

“Don’t apologize. I started it. And while Zach probably wouldn’t be thrilled if he knew I was talking to you about this, I’m willing to endure the guilty pangs if you are.” She paused. “Unless, of course, you’re not interested, in which case I’ll drop the subject.”

She leveled her blue eyes at Simone and waited.

Under that direct gaze, she felt herself flushing. “I’m interested,” she said.

Julia nodded. “Well, then. Let’s go inside, and I’ll show you the room I’ve chosen for you. Then I’ll order up a pot of tea and a plate of scones.”

The castle was as spectacular inside as it was outside. Julia led Simone through a high-ceilinged hallway and up a grand staircase carpeted in peacock blue. On the second floor she went down another hall, opened the door at the very end, and gestured for Simone to precede her inside.

The room was a suite decorated in shades of rose and green. The bedroom contained a fireplace, a king-size canopy bed, and enormous windows overlooking the lake. There was also a small sitting room beyond.

The sitting room was round. “Is that inside a turret?”

Julia nodded. “Yes, this is one of our tower suites. Like it?”

Simone spun around in a circle and laughed. “I feel like a princess in a fairy tale. It’s wonderful.”

“I’m so glad.” There was a tap on the door, and Julia moved aside to let a porter in with Simone’s luggage. “Why don’t you freshen up a bit, and I’ll go see about the tea and scones.”

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

T
he tea and scones were delicious, although Simone was more interested in the conversation than the food.

A waiter laid out their tea in the turret sitting room. Simone sat against velvet cushions on the curved window seat while Julia sat opposite her in a chair drawn up to the small, marble-topped table.

Simone was on her third scone before her hostess finished her first. Luckily there were at least a dozen, not to mention a plate full of hot buttered toast and a pot of the most delicious tea she’d ever tasted.

“If you don’t mind my asking, Julia . . . what did Zach tell you about me?”

Julia added a lump of sugar to her cup and stirred it with a tiny silver tea spoon. “He called me a few days ago full of a scheme to help your neighbors. I gathered he hadn’t slept in a while, which may be why he was more chatty than usual. In any event, he talked about you for an hour. I hope you don’t mind, but I know about your artwork, your remarkable knowledge of Shakespeare, the night you filled in for an actor who’d fallen ill, and quite a lot of details about your childhood. I feel as though I know you, which of course is an impertinence. So if you feel at all guilty about discussing Zach’s personal life with me, don’t.”

Simone learned that Zach had fallen for Isabelle when they were at university together, although the two of them had never dated. She’d chosen to marry an up-and-coming politician instead.

“At the risk of sounding biased, why in the world would any woman choose another man over your son? This politician must be amazing. Is he another Nelson Mandela or something?”

Julia laughed at that. “Hardly. No, Nigel is a power-hungry political hack . . . but he’ll be prime minister some day. I think Isabelle took a cold look at her options and decided that being the wife of a prime minister would give her more power and status than being the wife of an actor . . . even if that actor became a movie star. And of course, if you’re married to a movie star, the spotlight will always be on him—whereas the wife of a politician can have influence in her own right.” Julia sighed. “I thank God every day that she made that decision, especially after Zach gave up acting and came back to London to turn director. Isabelle would never have stood for that. She would never have allowed Zach to give up the glamour of Hollywood for the relative obscurity of theater.”

“Then why is she here now, glomming on to Zach and threatening to divorce her husband?”

“Because she’s in a bit of a quandary. To be truly successful in politics, you have to care about your own career more than anything else. And while Isabelle wants to be the wife of a PM, she also can’t bear coming second to anyone or anything. Every so often it gets to her and she throws a tantrum to get attention. And she goes to Zach because she knows that if she were married to him, he would put her first.” She smiled. “My son is a bit of a romantic, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Simone finished her tea and set down her empty cup. “I noticed. He idealizes Isabelle, doesn’t he? That’s why he can’t see her for what she is.”

“Zach chooses to see the best in the people he cares about.” Julia paused for a moment, tracing the rim of her cup with a fingertip. “I’m almost glad his illusions about Isabelle haven’t been shattered yet, though. Because I’m about to destroy one of his illusions about me.”

Simone stared at her. “What do you mean?”

She sighed. “I’m getting remarried, you see. Most of my friends and family know, but I haven’t told Zach yet. He should have been the first, but . . .” She shook her head. “I wasn’t sure how he would react, so I told myself it would be better to wait until I saw him in person. Now I know I was just being a coward.” She sat up straighter, seeing something out the window behind Simone. “Well, speak of the devil. There’s the gent himself.”

Simone twisted her head and saw a sturdy-looking man of medium height coming out of the woods near the castle. He was dressed in ancient pants, mud-covered boots, an old flannel shirt, and a faded tweed cap. All of that, however, was secondary to the most noticeable thing about him: the bird of prey he carried on his left wrist.

“Wow. Is that a hawk?”

Julia nodded. “Glen is a naturalist. He’s worked with birds all his life. He runs a school of falconry on the property, and when we decided to turn the castle into a hotel, we asked him to stay on. Guests will be able to take hawk walks around the grounds with Glen or one of his students.” She got up. “I’ve known him for years. We began dating a few months ago, and he proposed last week. Would you like to meet him?”

“Sure.”

The three of them converged on the grassy lawn beside the lake. Glen greeted Simone pleasantly, introducing her to Bruce — the hawk — as though he were a person. Then he pulled a leather gauntlet out of his pocket and handed it to Simone. When she put it on, a little mystified, he transferred the bird to her wrist.

“Would you mind if I have a private word with Julia? That will give you and Bruce a chance to get acquainted.”

“Um, okay.”

As Glen took Julia a few paces away and began to speak in a low voice, Simone stared into the baleful yellow eyes of Bruce the hawk.

He looked a little bit terrifying but also quite beautiful. His feathers were a warm reddish brown, and his feet, beak, and eyes were yellow. As the seconds ticked by and Bruce neither flew away nor pecked her eyes out as though she were one of the evil stepsisters in Cinderella, she started to relax.

She wasn’t trying to listen to Glen and Julia, but she couldn’t help overhearing some of their conversation.

“I assumed you’d told him,” Glen was saying. “When I started talking about the wedding, it was obvious that you hadn’t, and then of course I had to fill him in.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Julia said.

Glen shook his head. “I wish he hadn’t found out like that. He looked a bit shell-shocked.”

“Well, what’s done is done. Where is he?”

“He and Isabelle were heading for the temple when I left them.”

“I’ll talk to him when he gets back. In the meantime . . .” She came back to Simone. “Would you like a tour of the grounds, or the castle? Or would you prefer to rest in your room?”

Julia had better things to do than babysit her. “I think I’d like to wander around on my own for a while. Would that be all right?”

“Of course,” Julia said as Glen took Bruce and the leather gauntlet back. “There are trails and walking paths all over the grounds and lots of places to explore.” She checked her watch. “Our staff test run has officially begun, so remember, you’re to consider yourself a hotel guest. You can have lunch in our dining room until three o’clock and high tea after that, but you can get room service anytime.”

“That sounds great. Thank you.”

Simone hadn’t been outside New York City for a few months, so the closest she’d been to nature in a while was Central Park. Even there, you always knew you were in a city—the distant hum of traffic, the skyscrapers on the horizon, not to mention all the people bicycling, jogging, and walking.

Manhattan had everything you could ever want or need except solitude. Simone was so used to that fact that she rarely noticed it anymore. She’d developed the New Yorker’s ability to create her own solitude, whether it was in the confines of her apartment or with an attitude that said
The fact that I’m alone at this café does not constitute an invitation to talk to me.

Now, for the first time in months, she had true solitude—not just in her tiny apartment, but outdoors.

The air was different, too. She loved the myriad odors of Manhattan . . . except, of course, for the occasional scent of urine in subway stations and the pungent tang of dumpsters on trash day. But this . . .

She’d taken the path Glen had been on, into the woods beside the lake. She came to a stone bench and sat down, looking around her at the ancient trees and inhaling—

Fresh air.

It smelled like growing things—earth and leaves and moss and tree roots. There was moisture in the air, too, as though a soft rain might be just around the corner.

For five minutes, she just sat and breathed. She’d never realized how satisfying the simple act of taking in oxygen could be.

After a while, though, her thoughts turned to Zach, who’d stated so confidently that his mother would never remarry. How was he doing with the news? And what was going on with Isabelle and her husband? Maybe this time would be different, in spite of what Julia had said.

Eventually she got up and started walking again, listening to birdsong and the sound of wind tossing the leaves at the tops of the trees. The sun, appearing and disappearing from behind fast-moving clouds, filtered down through the branches in shafts of light that seemed almost tangible. After a while she came to a fork in the path and paused.

The path to the right continued to wind through the woods; the path to the left headed straight uphill toward a small structure that looked like . . .

A Greek temple.

She could see it clearly from here, along with the two figures inside it.

It might have been a scene in a movie. The stone temple on the hilltop . . . the beautiful woman, her hair streaming behind her in the wind . . . the strong, handsome man . . .

But it wasn’t a scene from a movie. It was a private moment that she shouldn’t be watching. She was about to turn away and take the right-hand path when Isabelle turned with a flounce—even from the bottom of the hill Simone could tell it was a flounce—and left the temple, heading back toward the castle.

Zach looked after her for a long moment. Then he sat down on one of the stone seats and put his head in his hands.

Had they had a fight? Or was he upset about his mother getting remarried?

Zach wasn’t a hero in a movie. He’d been her white knight more than once, but he was a human being, as flawed and vulnerable as she was.

And now he was in pain.

She started up the hill. Halfway there, a light rain started to fall.

“Hey,” she said when she reached the top, glad for the shelter of the temple roof.

Zach jerked his head up and stared at her. “Simone? What are you doing here?”

She sat down on the seat opposite him, using her sleeve to pat her face dry. “I was walking through the woods and I saw you.” She hesitated. “I saw Isabelle, too, before she left. Is everything all right? Are
you
all right?”

His blue eyes searched hers. “You’re asking me if I’m all right?”

Was there something wrong with that? “Well, yes.”

He shook his head. “You’re being kind. How can you be kind after what I did to you?”

So that was it. “You didn’t do anything to me. You weren’t expecting Isabelle to show up, but she did—and of course you’re going to put her first. Anyway, I’m doing fine. I’m staying in a castle in Ireland. You don’t have to worry about me.” She put her elbows on her knees and leaned forward. “So let me worry about you.”

He shook his head, but he was smiling. “You don’t have to worry about me, either.” He paused for a moment. “But if you insist, you should know that being around you has already made me feel better.”

A warm feeling spread through her. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. But quit changing the subject. I walked up that damn hill in the rain because you looked unhappy, so tell me what’s going on. Unless you’re too proud to admit something could actually get you down?”

“It’s not pride,” he told her, leaning back and sliding his hands into his pockets. “It’s English stoicism.”

“You’re only half English,” she reminded him. “Your mother is Irish, and I don’t think they’re known for being stoic.” She paused. “Speaking of your mother, she introduced me to a man named Glen. I overheard him mention that he’d told you some news.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Very subtle, Miss Oliver. All right, yes—I found out my mother is getting married again . . . and yes, it was a bit of a shock.”

He looked off to the right and Simone followed his gaze. From their vantage point on the hill they could see the ocean in the distance, gleaming in the sun that shone over the Atlantic even as a fine, misty rain fell where they were.

“That’s Galway Bay,” Zach said. “My parents met in Galway. My dad was there on holiday with friends, but he ditched them when he met my mum. It was love at first sight. He asked her to marry him after two weeks.”

“Two
weeks
?”

“That’s right. They had a fairy-tale romance. I used to pretend I hated seeing them kiss when I was a kid, but I didn’t really. They were so in love . . .” He looked back at Simone and shrugged. “Oh, well. I guess I was foolish to think my mother would never feel that way again. You must think I’m naive.”

“No, but that’s a pretty high standard for a relationship. A fairy-tale romance?” She shook her head. “Maybe that’s why you’re still single. Nothing could measure up to that.”

He smiled at her. “So you’re single because you don’t believe in romance, and I’m single because I believe in it too much. Is that it?”

“Something like that. Of course, I’m sure Isabelle has something to do with it, too. Talk about an impossible standard.”