The House on Sunset Lake (24 page)

Chapter Thirty-Four

The party was packed to the rafters with the great and the good. Everyone was here, New Yorkers, Hollywood stars and Georgia’s richest and most celebrated. A walkie-talkie in Jim’s pocket kept him up to date with problems – so far there had been few niggles to deal with. American
Vogue
had sent a photographer, who said the hotel was one of the most picturesque places he’d ever seen and he would be recommending it as a location shoot to the magazine, whilst Richard Steel had reported a five hundred per cent increase in forward bookings.

Flitting between rooms, Jim checked that everyone was happy. Celine Wood was here, and had teased him that she might ask him to organise her wedding to Richie Hawkins. Their stay in Baruda had gone swimmingly well. Not only had her boyfriend proposed after his one-hour acoustic set for the mayor’s daughter’s birthday party, held around the swimming pool at RedReef, but Celine had had a meeting with Gregor Bentley, who had agreed that the range of swimsuits and sarongs she had been developing over the past year could be sold at the hotel’s on-site boutique.

‘I’m fucking forty,’ she’d told Jim over a glass of champagne on the terrace. ‘I don’t want to be a model any more. I want to be the new Diane von Fürstenberg.’

Jim thought it was an excellent idea, and they pencilled in an appointment to discuss Celine taking a small unit at every Omari property to start her empire, which seemed like a win-win situation for everyone.

Elizabeth Johnson and her sister were sitting at a table by the lake with an expensive bottle of wine. Jim knew that his mother wasn’t in the mood to party, but it had been good to see her all dressed up: a smart new outfit, some make-up on her face and a softer, happier expression than she had worn in the weeks since Bryn’s death. In a flash of recklessness, he had also invited Sarah Huxley.

‘How are you, Johnson?’ she grinned as she came towards him holding a bottle of Krug.

‘Are you going to drink all that, or is it just a fashion accessory?’

‘Swig?’ she asked, offering it to him.

He shook his head.

‘Thanks for inviting me,’ she said after a moment. ‘An evening’s worth of quality gossip might make up for the way you broke my heart. Celine Wood told me she’s launching a fashion company in the new year and has a chain of stores raring to go. She says I can even sell the story to the
New York Times
.’

She grinned at him playfully and he felt a note of sadness. Sarah looked great tonight, he thought with a fleeting moment of desire. With her long red hair and wearing an emerald-green dress, she looked like a very sexy leprechaun. He didn’t doubt that with another bottle of Krug and a few choice words he might be able to win her round again, but that wouldn’t be fair to anyone. No, he was married to his work now. That was the way it had been for the past twenty years and it was a way that worked.

He had planned a week’s holiday in the new year in Patagonia, where he planned to trek and walk and climb, something he had wanted to do for years. Then he had the Santai empire to launch and the Omari group to expand, and perhaps in a few months, when the wounds had healed, he might be able to start dating again. Maybe one of his football mates knew someone nice. In fact, in the days after his father’s funeral, a couple of them had taken him out for a drink in Highgate and one of them had mentioned that his wife had a friend, a single mum at the school gates, a cracker by all accounts, who they thought Jim might get on with. ‘You know, when you’re ready.’

Twelve months ago, Jim would have smiled politely at the suggestion, horrified at the thought of being fast-tracked to cosy domesticity. But now the thought of a stable relationship, without the highs of a Manhattan romance with someone young and beautiful, or the complexities of an affair with the love of your life, was an appealing one. There was comfort in the ordinary.

‘So what happens next? Now this place is finished?’ said Sarah, putting the bottle down. ‘Are you staying in New York?’

‘No, I’m heading back to London tomorrow, actually. I’m officially the new CEO of the Omari group.’

‘That’s amazing,’ said Sarah, giving him a hug.

‘It’s what I’ve always wanted,’ he said, not convinced by the words coming out of his own mouth. ‘Besides, I can’t turn an opportunity like this down.’

‘What does Jennifer think about it?’ she asked cautiously.

Jim took a sharp intake of breath to compose himself. After his father’s death, he had made a resolution to put Jennifer Wyatt completely behind him, which wasn’t easy, especially given that he was renovating her old home. It had been particularly difficult finding Bryn and Sylvia’s love letters the previous day, a discovery that had unleashed a mixed bag of emotions.

He remembered something his father had said to him – was about to say to him – just before his heart attack:
Look what she did with me
 . . . 
it was a fuck-you to her mother
 . . .

At the time, Jim hadn’t known what he meant, but now the knowledge of Bryn and Sylvia’s affair helped him make more sense of what had gone on that summer. Perhaps it confirmed that Jennifer had had no real feelings for Bryn; that it had been a one-off affair. Her relationship with her mother had always been complicated, and so sex with Sylvia’s lover could well have been some twisted cry for attention that hurt all of them.

But right now, it brought little consolation to Jim, reflecting badly as it did on both Jennifer and his father, two people Jim had adored. His feelings about his father were especially complex. Bryn had always been both his tormentor and his hero, but since his death, Jim could barely countenance any negative thoughts about him, even though he knew how unfaithful he had been towards his mother. Death had exonerated his wrongdoings. No, it was best to forget everything about that summer.

‘It didn’t work out between us,’ he said finally.

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ replied Sarah, touching his shoulder.

They were distracted by the appearance of Simon.

‘My new CEO,’ he said, striding over and slapping Jim on the back. ‘What an amazing party. I never doubted for a minute you could do all this.’

‘Well here we are,’ said Jim, grateful for the supportive words.

‘For one moment, I thought I saw Connor Gilbert,’ Simon said, glancing back towards the crowd. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if he had the bare-faced cheek to turn up here.’

Jim smiled nervously at the mention of his nemesis.

‘I heard about Marshall Roberts,’ said Simon, looking at him over the rim of his glass.

Jim glanced at Sarah, hoping she would take the hint to leave them alone, but she stayed rooted to the spot.

‘It was all sorted,’ he said diplomatically.

‘So I hear,’ chuckled Simon. ‘I thought that showed the sort of initiative I expect from my CEO.’

Jim felt his shoulders sag with relief. Whatever Simon knew about RedReef clearly no longer mattered. He had no idea how his boss had found out about the extortion that was going on at the hotel, but the fact that he had sorted it out had obviously earned him some brownie points.

‘As for Connor, let’s just say I’ve dealt with him,’ said Simon, leaning in more closely. ‘Nothing too serious, just enough pressure to make him sweat with his condo development.’

‘Whatever you’ve done to put that slimeball in his place isn’t enough,’ said Sarah, brazen in her eavesdropping.

Simon roared with laughter. ‘Know Connor Gilbert then, do you?’

‘Unfortunately,’ she snorted.

‘Simon, meet Sarah Huxley,’ said Jim, introducing them.

‘I know who you are,’ said Sarah, extending an eager hand. ‘I just wanted to say how much I loved the cover feature on you in
Forbes
. I didn’t realise you were from Jaipur. I did my university dissertation on the reign of Man Singh II, the state’s last maharaja.’

Simon’s eyes lit up and the pair began to talk animatedly. Suddenly Jim felt painfully alone.

‘Excuse me,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

He stepped out on to the back lawn and walked down towards the edge of the lake, to the restored pavilion. He glanced back at the house, which looked magnificent with every window blazing with golden light. He tried to lock the memory in: Casa D’Or in all its glory. He knew he was unlikely to ever come back.

He turned and faced the lake again, watching the moonlight ripple across the inky black surface.

‘Jim.’

He heard a voice behind him and turned.

At first the backlight from the house made it difficult to see. Then his vision came into focus and he realised it was Jennifer.

Chapter Thirty-Five

‘Jen,’ he said with total shock.

‘I’ve gatecrashed,’ she replied in a voice so small he could hardly hear it.

Her smile was apologetic. It made Jim felt ashamed. This was her house, her past, and he hadn’t even invited her. He also acknowledged that it had taken some balls for her to be here. His silence over the past few weeks had surely sent the message that he didn’t want to see her or speak to her again.

‘Don’t worry. Marion gave me her ticket, if you want to know how I wriggled past security.’

His heart was beating hard. He felt caught out and unprepared.

‘How are you, Jennifer?’ he said after a moment.

‘Getting there,’ she said slowly. ‘The divorce is going through. Connor isn’t contesting it. He wants it done quickly too. And I have a new place. In the East Village, believe it or not. I’m still not sure whether it’s a little too young and edgy for me down there. What’s that expression I heard you use once? I feel like mutton dressed as lamb. But it’s great. The apartment takes dogs, so I’ve got Mars Bar with me. And it’s right near Prune. They do the best Sunday brunches.’

‘I’ve been. And the best Bloody Mary menu in town.’

‘For a long time I drank too much. I don’t any more,’ she said quietly. ‘Although the odd glass of champagne might tempt me tonight,’ she added as if she were trying to not be too sombre.

‘Well, I can recommend the non-alcoholic cocktails. The virgin mojito is excellent,’ he said as briskly as he could.

He took a moment to observe her, and watching her, eager and nervous, made his heart soften.

‘I can’t believe you came tonight,’ he said, unable to stop the crisp questioning note in his voice. He knew that his heart would probably always skip a beat when he saw her, but he couldn’t forget the day they had last spoken. The day she had admitted a sexual relationship with his father.

‘I wasn’t going to pay to see the house,’ she smiled, a moonbeam lighting up her face in the softest, most beautiful way. ‘This way I get to have a snoop around without having to book a room.’

Jim shrugged, unable to shake off his discomfort. ‘I would have sorted you out with a visit,’ he said, inhaling deeply, hoping that the faintly salty air would get rid of his own sudden desire for a drink.

‘It was difficult to come back today,’ she admitted.

‘I was going to get in touch,’ he said, surprising himself. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’

‘I have something to say to you first,’ she said, closing her eyes as if to steel herself.

He heard her inhale deeply, then she opened her eyes and looked at him directly.

‘Don’t say anything, otherwise I might not get the words out,’ she said. ‘This is something I should have told you a long time ago.’

He hesitated. ‘Go on.’

She shook her head, then looked up at the sky.

‘That day,’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘The day you left Savannah. I was raped.’

Jim felt as if he was falling through a trapdoor as pieces of a terrible puzzle began to fall into place.

‘Raped?’ he said, feeling uncomfortable even saying the word.

Jennifer stared at the ground intently. It was a few moments before she looked up again.

‘You remember the day after my twenty-first party,’ she said softly. ‘I left the barn, I left you, and went to see Connor to tell him it was over. He wasn’t happy; he almost hit me, in fact. But I did it. I did it because I wanted to be with you.’

‘Your letter . . . you said that you loved Connor . . .’

She took a deep breath before continuing.

‘I finished with Connor and I came to the Lake House to see you. I came to tell you that we could be together. But you weren’t there.’

Jim gave the smallest shake of his head, memories of the day tumbling back like a waterfall.

‘No one was home. I saw Bryn in the boathouse. He said you’d gone into the city and invited me in to wait for you. He gave me a drink, some gin, and we chatted . . .’

Jim closed his eyes. He felt sick at the thought of what she was going to say.

‘He asked about my documentary,’ she continued. ‘Told me how talented I was. I suppose I liked hearing that. The sun was shining through the window and I was happy. I remembered the way you’d made me feel the night before, and hearing your father, the big-name author, flatter me . . . it was almost as if I was in a movie, and I was a more lovely and clever version of myself. He asked me to have a look at his manuscript, and I suppose I didn’t think anything of it when he shut the door of the cabin behind him.’

Jim felt dazed, as if the whole world was spinning.

‘Stop, please,’ he said, his voice barely making it out of his throat.

‘His papers were on his desk and I started to read them,’ she continued. ‘My back was turned and then I felt him behind me and he was kissing my neck, just here.’ She touched a little patch of flesh behind her ear. ‘I was embarrassed and I told him to stop. He said, “Why settle for the boy when you can have the man?
”
’

Jim thought he saw the glint of a tear in the corner of her eye, but it could have been the moonlight.

‘I said no, but he didn’t listen,’ she said, dipping her head. ‘And then I stopped saying no because it was going to happen anyway.’

She fell silent for a moment, as if there were barely any words left to say.

‘I went and hid,’ she said at last, still looking down. ‘I wanted to hide until I had worked out what to do. But nothing felt right. How could I tell you? How could I not tell you?’

Jim didn’t speak for a moment. A cool breeze rustled through the bulrushes behind them.

‘Why are you only telling me this now?’ he asked finally, his emotions in turmoil.

‘I loved you, Jim. So I figured . . . I figured it was better to keep quiet. Better to write you a letter, tell you it was over, and for us not to see one another again. If I saw you, if I told you what your father had done, it would have forced you to pick a side. What was the point in pursuing it? Who would have believed me if I’d reported it? Was the young, impressionable girl really going to say no to the handsome, successful author? And even if I had pressed charges, how would that have turned out? It would have destroyed your family. You needed money, you needed a father, not a man locked in a foreign jail cell.’

‘I can’t believe he would do that,’ he said, his confusion almost making him feel dizzy. ‘You said . . . you said that you had sex with him. Why are you telling me a different story now?’

‘Because your father was in the hospital—’

‘And now he’s dead,’ he roared, spinning around and letting his eyes settle on the darkness of the lake. In the distance he could make out the silhouette of the boathouse, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

‘My father is dead,’ he repeated more quietly, turning to face her, his voice shaking with emotion. ‘Don’t do this. Don’t come and tell me this. You can’t,’ he said, the thickness in his throat making it difficult to breathe.

Jennifer didn’t take her eyes off him.

‘It wasn’t just my mother’s death that kept me away from Casa D’Or, that kept me apart from you. It was Bryn. And I knew that if I didn’t say anything, if I never gave us one last chance to be together, then he’s won. They’ve won.’

‘No one has won, Jen,’ said Jim so quietly he could barely hear himself.

For a moment they stood there gazing at one another. And then he felt a swell of anger that almost knocked him to one side with the force of its surprise. He didn’t want to believe her; he couldn’t let himself believe her. He owed that to his father, to his father’s memory.

He took a step away from her, and she nodded as if she got the message.

‘I just thought you should know,’ she said, her voice cracking.

She turned and disappeared back towards the big white house glowing like a spectral face in the darkness. Back to the Plantation House. For Casa D’Or was gone now, and so was she.