Sailing to Capri (38 page)

It’s a Saturday night and Bordelaise and I are taking Rats to the Ram’s Head for a banger and a pint of Tetley’s bitter the way Bob and I used to.

Rats snuffles happily along the familiar road, lifting his leg at favorite trees and wagging his stumpy tail at people he knows, and they stop to say hello to him, and to me. I’m part of Sneadley’s tapestry of life now, the lady of the manor, as they say. I spend most weekends here, though I’m in London during the week, or sometimes New York, running the charitable foundation I formed in memory of Bob. It keeps me busy and out of mischief, and I’m proud of what I do. Proud to be a part of an international team working for the good of children everywhere.

Bordelaise is visiting from Chicago and everyone here loves her. Tomorrow I’m giving a lunch party. I’ll see if I can get her off with one of the local county gents, though nobody else I
know around here has been married three times. Still, it would be a novelty and she’ll charm their socks off, have them eating out of her hand in a flash—though, come to think of it, even with an Aga, her cooking’s not so hot. In fact, the cruise is the best thing that happened to Bordelaise, and I know she’s still in touch with Captain Anders. She’s already signed up for another cruise, on a big ship this time, leaving next week out of Rome, and then a second one in winter to Australia with half the world in between. Cruises seem to suit her need for constant change, and she swears she’ll end up as the ship’s mascot, an old lady adopted by the crew, with her own permanent cabin, folding table napkins to help out and keep busy.

Somehow I don’t see it that way. Bordelaise will be flighty and free until the next charmer comes along, and no doubt I’ll be matron of honor one more time.

Next week I’m off to Saint-Tropez for the opening of Diane’s hotel. Of course, I’ve already seen it and she done a marvelous job. How could she not—a woman with her taste?
And
her money, I can hear Bob saying with a laugh.

Her sister, Alice, is sweet, like a child really, and Diane says she can tell she feels at home at the Château de Valentinois. She’s happy and playful, and Diane got her a little dog, a white bichon frise named Billy. She grooms it every day and feeds it herself, and it sits on her lap in her electric wheelchair, going for rides along the paths in the pretty gardens.

It’s odd, but Diane doesn’t seem to care much anymore about the way she looks; she’s comfortable in pants and a shirt, very much the chatelaine, very much the boss. I can guarantee
she drove her team of workmen crazy, but she got the job done in record time.

As for Filomena, of course I see her because I’m often at the Villa Belkiss. She’s in her element, buying for her boutique with its tempting window displaying the one perfect bag fringed with beads, or the sexiest little persimmon top, or the most gorgeous summer gown. She’s proven to be a great saleswoman, selling her customers from top to toe when all they really came in for was to ask the price of the bag in the window. And her little house, tucked up an arched flight of steps with an eagle’s-eye view of the town and the sea, is a cool pleasure in blue and white, a bit like
Blue Boat,
now I come to think of it. There’s a man in her life too, the owner of one of the island’s nicest restaurants. Life is looking good for Filomena.

I hear about Davis Farrell, of course, though I never see him. True to his promise, he’s mentioned almost daily in the financial papers. He’s already living up to his previous reputation as a skilled and devious manipulator, and his success is guaranteed. Bob offered him back his soul and he turned it down. So be it.

I haven’t seen Dopplemann either, but he reports in with an e-mail every now and then. He’s working for a Swiss company and from what he says he’s in his element. I wish him well.

And now Rosalia. A few months after the cruise, Magdalena wrote saying she would like to see me, so I went to the Finca de los Pastores. I found Rosalia sad and remote. She no longer took an interest in her hotel; she didn’t cook, or even speak with her guests.

I sat with her in the courtyard of her pretty home, where a white peacock spread its tail for us, like a cloud shimmering in the sunlight. Magdalena had persuaded Rosalia to keep Bob’s legacy, and now she asked me what she should do with it. She said it didn’t feel right using it for her own needs, though it had enabled them to buy back their property from the banks, who because of Hector’s fraud had been on the verge of foreclosing. I urged her to continue with the plans to build an annex and the new hotel in the foothills of the Sierras she’d always dreamed about.

“You can do it,” I said, knowing it was true. “You’ve done it before, under much tougher circumstances. Now you have no young mouths to feed. Forget Hector, forget the bad things and move on. It’s time to
live.
”

My persistence must have paid off because the night before I was to leave, Rosalia took over her kitchens again and cooked me a dinner I will never forget. And Magdalena writes me that she’s back in charge and going ahead with the plans for the new hotel.

I can hardly bear to mention the evil man’s name, but anyhow, Charlie Clement is doing plenty of time in a French jail. Exactly where he belongs.

Reg Blunt tells a good story to anyone who comes into the pub and can bear to listen (they’ve all heard it a million times by now) about
Blue Boat
and the people he met and what a wonderful time he had. He does not go into detail about the other happenings; he’s a discreet man, which is one of the reasons Bob liked him. He also doesn’t talk about the hundred thousand pounds Bob left him, and he keeps the Ferrari he also
left him stashed in his garage and polishes it every day. I don’t know if he’ll ever take it out for a spin; he thinks it’s too good to get “mucky.”

And Ginny is … well, she’s just Ginny. The fifty thousand Bob left her is safely invested, and I see her driving Bob’s Mercedes convertible through the village on her way to Harrogate to shop, always smiling, always flirting, always busy with her family. No special man yet, but she’s hoping.

Mrs. W still works for me as housekeeper, along with Brenda, and Stanley, who all benefited under the will. Bob forgot no one—he even left money for repairs to the church.

Texas and Brandon got paid well for their stints as red herrings, and the small financial security has given Texas a new confidence. Brandon has music biz “connections,” and now she’s playing the good clubs and also has a small part in an upcoming movie. She’s hoping for a winner this time.

As for Brandon, he’s found a new life on cruise liners. “Have backgammon board, will travel” is his motto. I believe he makes a fair living that way. Onboard ship he lives like a king, and of course, women dote on him. It’s a life that suits him. At least for now.

Bordelaise and I finally arrive at the pub. Ginny waves at us from behind the bar, and Rats runs to her, ready for his treat. The old boys nod a greeting over their pints as we go by, then Reg calls me over. He has an odd look on his face.

“I could swear I saw old Bob just now,” he says. “Right here, sitting on the old settle over a pint like he always did. Out of
the corner of my eye I saw him; then I turned my head and he was gone.”

“I’ll bet you did,” I say, smiling. “I’ll bet he’s come home after all.”

I’ve never been lucky enough to see Bob, though I still feel his loving presence the way I used to in that soft breeze. I like it, it makes me feel good, but then Bob always did that. And no matter what anyone else thinks, I’ll believe to the end of my days that he saved me from Hector.

Do you remember there was one last letter, not to be opened until the time was right? When I first returned to Sneadley, I sat alone in the lovely golden drawing room with the evening sun slanting in and Rats on my knee, and I opened it.

“Daisy, my love,”
Bob wrote.

“You have to give me my due, I set you up royally for what I’ll bet you thought was a wild-goose chase. Didn’t turn out quite like that, though, did it? Of course I don’t know who my killer was, otherwise Montana would have taken care of him before the fact and not, unfortunately as it turned out, after. In my heart of hearts, though, I’m still hoping it wasn’t one of my second-chancers. I thought they all had something better to offer the world if they could overcome their weaknesses and straighten up. I failed with Charlie Clement, but he was always a long shot.

“Anyway, love, now you know I have a daughter. I didn’t tell you or Montana, because I wanted to respect Rosalia’s privacy. I finally found out about her, years later, when Rosalia was already married. I knew she didn’t want me to interfere, so I kept out of it, though Lord knows it was hard. I also knew she wouldn’t take a penny from me when I was
alive; that wasn’t her way. I’ve had to leave it until now, when I’m dead, to do the ‘right thing’ for them. I hope she accepted this in the spirit of love in which it was given.

“Meanwhile, lass, I’ll bet you put on a good show at the Villa Belkiss. I’ll bet it turned out exactly the way I planned, weather permitting, of course, though I might have a hand in that too … you never know.

“So, now you’re a rich woman. How does it feel? Does money make you happy? Let me tell you from experience what money does. It buys freedom. Freedom from want and freedom from worry. It does not, as they always so rightly say, buy happiness. I know you’ll do good things with it, just as I know you’ll look after Sneadley Hall—our home together, lass, for quite a few years. I know you think of it as home, and that you care. And the Villa Belkiss seems the perfect place for you to find peace and sunshine, and who knows, maybe even love.

“Speaking of love. Remember I was always trying to fix you up with guys? All of whom you rejected—too tall, you said, too short, too boring, thinks he’s too clever, don’t like mustaches. You had every excuse under the sun, and all because you were afraid to fall in love again. Remember I told you I thought I’d found exactly the man for you? Not only that, I knew he’d love Rats too, and that’s important. Give Montana a chance, Daisy. And yourself too, this time around.

“Remember I also said in my first letter I’d be there to take care of you if danger presented itself. You’ll probably know by now I spoke the truth.

“I’ll miss you, Daisy Keane. Take care of yourself. And of Rats. And of my man, Montana.

“And remember, Daisy. Live in the present. There’s no guarantee about tomorrow.

Your loving B.H.”

As always, Bob, my ogre at the top of the beanstalk, my intelligent Shrek, my all-knowing, all-seeing best friend, had the last word.

And what about Montana? Because of Bob, I finally met the man of my dreams, and he’s so different from anything I ever expected he’s turned my world upside down. He’s a man wounded by lack of love, and I’m a woman scarred by wrong love. How could we possibly make a go of it?

Are we in love? Yes, oh yes. Does he say he loves me? Finally, yes. Do I love him? Of course. But Montana is a man dedicated to his work, and that work takes him around the world, often without much notice.

They say you can never change a man, and I don’t intend to try. Rosalia left Bob because she knew she would never be able to change him and I’m not going to make that mistake. Montana is the man he is. His life is what it is. I’ll take what I can get and what’s more I love it.

Our life is a perpetual romance. We have our long weekends at Sneadley and our summer weeks at the Villa Belkiss. We meet at small hotels and pensions in Istanbul or Marrakesh, in Kyoto or Rome … anywhere in the world. We drink wine, smooch in quiet corners of intimate restaurants, stroll hand in hand down cobbled alleys in small Mexican villages, wander sandy paths in out-of-the-way seaside resorts, and make love anywhere and everywhere. Life is different every day with Montana, and that’s what I love about it.

Does this scenario make for happiness? For us it does. At least for now. And to tell the truth, since all this happened, I’ve taken Bob’s advice and become a live-for-the-day woman.

Take it and be happy is my motto. And if you ask me now, Well, are you happy? Well, yes I am. And with luck—and Bob Hardwick—on my side, I believe it will last forever. And maybe this time,
I
will have the last word.