Island in the Sea (16 page)

“Actually Donovan wasn't at the office.” Lionel walked to the bar and poured a shot of Absolut. He added a twist of lime and drank it in one gulp. “Gideon did say Donovan suggested a small change in the music video.”

“I'm not going to wear a pink bikini.” Samantha picked up a yellow Hi-Liter. “And I refuse to jump out of a convertible. What if teenagers tried that at home?”

“The convertible wasn't moving.” Lionel looked at Samantha and took a deep breath. “Donovan thought you'd be happier if you weren't in as many shots.”

“I'd be thrilled, but I'm the one singing.”

“He thought they could hire an actress to play your part,” Lionel said quickly. “Apparently that young actress who was up for an Oscar was interested, the one who made the socially responsible film about women in Ecuador.”

“Penelope Cruz wants to play me in a music video?”

“I'm not sure if it was her, but someone like that.” Lionel shrugged. “Donovan thinks your look might not be what they're going for.”

“They want a petite actress with dark hair and tan skin and huge breasts?”

“They're not sure what they want,” Lionel admitted. His shoulders sagged and his forehead knotted. “But they think you come across as too reserved.

“I told him if you weren't in the video we're breaking the contract and going back to England,” he continued. “I booked two business class seats on the morning flight to Heathrow. I even ordered you the vegetarian meal, it's always better than the chicken and mashed potatoes.”

“I think it's a wonderful idea,” Samantha mused. “I'll have more time to study, the professor assigned the complete works of John Donne and Philip Sidney.”

“You do?” Lionel gulped.

“I can't think of anything worse than spending the day standing in front of a wind machine in a miniskirt and stilettos,” Samantha said, drawing wide lines in her textbook.

“You never cease to amaze me,” Lionel whispered.

He strode across the room and slipped his hand beneath her dress. He felt the delicate silk of her panties and his whole body stiffened.

He took her hand and led her into the bedroom. He unzipped her dress and let it slide to the floor. He studied her lacy cleavage and long legs and thought she was a Roman goddess.

Samantha unsnapped her bra and stepped out of her panties. She unbuttoned Lionel's shirt and ran her hands over his chest. She lay down on the pink-and-white comforter and pulled him on top of her.

“You do know how much I love you.” He touched her cheek.

“I do.” She nodded. “I love you too.”

Lionel drew her arms above her head and plunged inside her. He felt the exquisite sensation of disappearing into endless warmth and thought he was going to explode. He moved faster until her back arched and her body quivered and she wrapped her arms around him. He felt the final blast like a rocket launching and cradled her against his chest.

He drew her close and glanced at the pile of textbooks on the bedside table. He imagined some UCLA professor with blond hair and blue eyes discussing John Donne's sonnets and felt a sudden chill. He draped the smooth cotton sheet around their shoulders and sucked in his breath.

*   *   *

“That's a beautiful necklace.” Lionel placed the glass of Ovaltine in the sink. He closed the jar of marmite and put the loaf of bread in the fridge.

“Henry gave it to me, they are Majorcan pearls.” Juliet touched her neck.

“He has good taste.” Lionel took his cigarette case out of his pocket and tapped a cigarette onto the tile counter. “What was the occasion?”

“He just saw them in a jeweler in Palma.” Juliet shrugged, smoothing her hair behind her ears. “The pearls are man-made, I've never seen anything like them.”

“If you want to give a woman a gift you buy a silk scarf or a box of chocolates.” Lionel lit the cigarette with a pearl lighter and blew a thin smoke ring. “Jewelry always has an agenda: you had to cancel a weekend getaway to Paris or you forgot your anniversary and promise to never do it again.”

“You told me I didn't believe in love.” Juliet's cheeks flushed. “Maybe you were wrong, maybe I just hadn't met the right man.”

“That's the beauty of being young, you still think people change. It's only when you look at the same face in the mirror for decades you realize you'll always have the cleft on your chin.” He walked to the entry. “I'm going to the post office, the mailman won't deliver my Harrods's buttercreams until I pay the duty tax. Would you like to join me? We can stop at Ca'n Pintxo and share a plate of tapas.”

“I can't.” Juliet shook her head. “I have a Skype call with Gideon at three
P.M
.”

“He was always the most punctual person in the music business,” Lionel mused. “He was always early for his lunch reservation at Spago's and the first to arrive at the Grammys.”

*   *   *

Lionel watched Juliet disappear through the low gate. He searched his pocket for his cigarettes and realized he left them on the kitchen counter. He walked into the living room and picked up the phone.

He dialed the number and waited for it to ring. Suddenly he pressed
END
and put the phone back on the desk. He entered the kitchen and grabbed his gold cigarette case. He rubbed the engraved letters and slipped it in his pocket.

chapter fifteen

J
ULIET GAZED AROUND THE HOTEL
suite at the orange wool rug and turquoise walls and sloped ceiling. She admired the ceramic vase filled with purple daisies and sideboard set with a pitcher of sparkling water. She grabbed a handful of macadamia nuts from a silver bowl and walked onto the balcony.

She remembered her Skype call with Gideon and her stomach tightened. She couldn't tell him Lionel spent the week reliving his early career. She blithely smiled into the camera and said they were working together to deliver the new songs.

She had hung up and stepped into the white porcelain bathtub. She opened a copy of
Mansfield Park
she found in the hotel's library but couldn't concentrate.

She remembered what Lionel said about people not changing and flinched. He was wrong; people changed all the time. She wasn't the girl who graduated from NYU and expected to sit in the front row of the Grammys. She didn't picture attending music festivals in Montreux and Positano and sipping mojitos with Beyoncé and Gwen Stefani.

She knew working in the music industry was about long hours in the recording studio and riding on tour buses through the back roads of North Carolina. It was about convincing great artists they still had talent when they thought their latest songs were worthless.

She thought of the last two years when she thought she'd never meet the right guy. She pictured the last few days with Henry: strolling along the promenade in Puerto de Sóller and visiting the monastery in Valldemossa.

She stepped out of the bath and lathered her skin with Aqua de Palma lotion. She walked to the closet and selected a Nina Ricci dress and silver sandals.

She called Henry and left a message inviting him to dinner in her suite. She imagined nibbling salmon seviche and watching the sun set over the Mediterranean. She pictured his thick chest and smooth hands and shivered.

*   *   *

Now she walked inside and saw her phone on the glass coffee table. She listened to the message and heard Henry's voice saying his coach insisted he have dinner with the
Sports Illustrated
reporter. He would sneak out when he could and they could share brandy tiramisu in the plaza.

She gazed at her reflection in the mirror and felt her shoulder deflate. She saw her phone buzz and picked it up.

“Juliet.” Lydia's voice came over the line. “I hope I'm not disturbing you, you're probably going to dinner and dancing with Henry.”

“Actually I was about to order a room service spinach salad and curl up with Jane Austen.” Juliet smiled.

“It's a gorgeous night,” Lydia replied. “I was hoping I could tempt you to join me for grilled foie gras with aubergine ravioli in the garden.”

“That sounds lovely but I'm quite tired.” Juliet faltered. “I don't think I can hike to Fornalutx.”

“Good, because I made reservations at the Gran Hotel Sóller,” Lydia said. “The chef makes the most delicious apple tartin but he's an old flame and I don't want him to get the wrong impression if I dine alone.”

Juliet pictured platters of fresh fish and Majorcan vegetables and realized she was starving. She fastened the pearl necklace around her neck and smoothed her hair.

“I would love to.” She smiled. “I'll meet you in the plaza in twenty minutes.”

*   *   *

“What a gorgeous hotel,” Juliet said, gazing at the tall French windows and marble columns.

They sat at a square table in the courtyard, sipping a smooth Chardonnay. Juliet glanced at the lights strung over the cobblestones and plaster walls covered with ivy and thought she had never eaten anywhere so beautiful.

“The Gran Hotel Sóller was built in the nineteenth century as a private palace and it's the crown jewel of Sóller,” Lydia explained, tearing apart a baguette. “I used to bring Gabriella for dinner when she was a little girl, she would order cold tomato soup and a Shirley Temple.”

“I'm glad I came.” Juliet looked up at the black sky studded with stars. “It's such a beautiful night, it's a shame to stay inside.”

“When I lived on the farm, I stopped working at six
P.M.
and took a hot bath,” Lydia began. “Then I put on a pretty dress and a pair of pumps. I fixed myself a martini and watched the sun slide behind the mountains and thought I was quite lucky.

“People think you should only dress up if they live in a city or dine at elegant restaurants, but there's nothing better than Italian silk against your skin. I didn't care if no one saw me except the cows and Felipe, beautiful clothes always made me happy.”

“Your dress is exquisite,” Juliet said, admiring the teal tunic with gold buttons.

“I had to go to the dentist in Palma and visited my favorite boutique,” Lydia replied. “It's tucked in an alley off the Avenidade Jaime III and filled with dresses by Carolina Herrera and Saint Laurent. Every time I enter, I'm afraid I'm too old to wear a new cut or color but the salesgirl assures me I look perfect.” She sipped her wine. “One of the pleasures of getting old is your eyesight fades and you are more forgiving with your own reflection.

“I spent the afternoon at La Seu Cathedral,” she continued, eating Iberian pig and white truffles. “It has the most fascinating history. The first stone was laid in 1230 by Jaume I to thank God for sparing his ship in a storm and delivering him back to Majorca. But it took almost four hundred years to build and wasn't completed until 1601.

“The spires are as tall as Notre Dame Cathedral and there are over a thousand stained glass windows.”

She paused. “I always imagine Gabriella gilding down the aisle in an Oscar de la Renta gown. She would be such a beautiful bride with her long dark hair and green eyes.”

“I'm sure she and Hugo will have a lovely wedding,” Juliet agreed.

“After I visited the cathedral I went to a little café in La Llonja,” she continued. “Cars aren't allowed and the streets are full of florists and fruit stalls. I walked inside and saw a couple sitting in the back. The woman had curly black hair and looked like she'd been crying. The man stroked her hand and tried to comfort her.”

“He turned in my direction and I realized it was Hugo. I watched the girl jump up and run outside.” Lydia stopped and looked at Juliet. “She wore a cotton dress and sandals and was at least three months pregnant.”

“She could have been a friend,” Juliet stammered. “It may have nothing to do with Hugo.”

“I saw her face when she raced out the door and remembered when I received the letter from Enrico saying he was too young to be a father.” Lydia paused. “She looked like a young doe who was lost in the forest.”

“Did you approach Hugo?” Juliet asked.

“If Hugo told me the truth, I would have to tell Gabriella, and I couldn't bear to hurt my granddaughter.” She shook her head. “I told the maître d' I had a terrible headache and took the train back to Fornalutx.”

“I don't believe it,” Juliet protested. “He treats her like a precious jewel and when he enters the room she's like a girl on Christmas morning.”

“I went home and worked in the garden but my back ached and my knees hurt,” Lydia continued. “I made a plate of tapas and poured a glass of wine but I wasn't hungry and I had a headache. Finally I called Hugo's phone and a woman answered. When I asked where he was she said she didn't know.” Lydia paused. “She hung up before I could leave a message.”

“That's impossible,” Juliet exclaimed. “Why would he let another woman have his phone?”

“Perhaps he didn't even know, pregnant women are quite volatile,” Lydia mused. “Maybe he wouldn't tell Gabriella so she decided she would do it for him.”

“But Hugo and Gabriella seem so in love,” Juliet said.

“Every couple who are in love think the word was invented for them,” Lydia mused. “But love is like a fishing boat in a storm, it's easy to be thrown off course by a shapely pair of legs.

“I remember the first time I met Hugo, Gabriella brought him to dinner,” she continued. “I never saw her look so beautiful, she was like a model in a fashion magazine. Her hair was glossy and her skin glowed and her eyes were like emeralds. After dinner she insisted on helping me with the dishes. She stood at the sink with her arms covered in soap and asked whether I approved.” Lydia dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “I said what do you mean and she laughed and said she met the man she was going to marry.