LILY SAT ON THE BALCONY of her suite and inhaled the scent of bougainvillea. It was early afternoon, and the harbor resembled a jewelry case. Yachts gleamed in the sun like alabaster pearls, and there were topaz-colored speedboats.
The opening was in two days, so she had hired a driver and driven into the hills to the town of Templo Pausania to buy a few things for the store. Old women tended stalls selling filigree jewelry and woven rugs and pine-scented candles. They insisted she accept gifts with her purchases and filled her basket with plums and oranges.
One woman even pressed a silver Sardinian wedding ring into her hand. When Lily said she was nowhere near getting married, the woman replied in broken English that it would bring Lily luck. Lily smiled and promised to wear it on a silver chain around her neck.
On the way back, the driver pointed out the secluded beaches of Baia di Sardinia and Liscia di Vacca. Lily gazed at the green hills dotted with flowers and the cobalt ocean littered with speedboats, and her heart lifted. The Emerald Coast was the most beautiful place she’d ever seen.
Now she studied the view from her suite’s balcony and was quite pleased with her morning purchases. She looked down at her plate and picked up a piece of Sardinian flatbread. There was a bowl of cold tomato soup and a glass of grapefruit juice on the outdoor table.
The drapes were closed in Oliver’s suite, and her shoulders relaxed. She hadn’t thought about Oliver and Angela once since she and Ricky had returned from Porto Rotondo yesterday evening. It really had been a wonderful excursion, with dinner at S’Astore and Ricky’s gift of the ruby pendant.
Could she and Ricky be falling in love? But spending more than a few weeks on the Emerald Coast every year was impossible. She had other stores to manage, and she hated being away from Louisa.
When she was with Ricky, she felt like the lead in a romantic movie. In the opening scene, she’s hurt so badly she doesn’t believe in love. But then she meets a handsome stranger and realizes she’s going to get her happy ending.
She had promised herself she would try to be happy; she couldn’t go back on her word. If she didn’t take a chance, it would be like Louisa quitting gymnastics because she fell off the balance beam.
Her phone buzzed, and she pressed accept.
“Let me guess,” Ricky began. “You’re sitting outside eating risotto and ricotta and some kind of fruit. You’re gazing at the boats and thinking this really is the most glorious spot on earth. You are fortunate to be here and wonder why anyone would want to be anywhere else.”
“Are you spying on me?” Lily laughed, glancing around the balcony.
“That’s what every visitor is doing on a beautiful day on the Emerald Coast,” Ricky replied.
“I’m eating cold soup instead of risotto and mango ice cream instead of fruit, and I was thinking I must get fabric for the store that is the same color as the sea.”
“Then you are a woman of many facets.” Ricky paused. “That’s one of the reasons I’m falling in love with you.”
“Ricky…” Lily began.
“Check the hallway outside your suite,” he cut in. “There’s a present for you.”
Lily ran through her suite and opened the door. There was a rectangular box wrapped in tissue paper.
She tore open the paper and discovered a turquoise chiffon dress. There was a quilted purse with a gold chain.
She picked up the phone. “It’s gorgeous. But I can’t accept any more presents.”
“We have been invited to a dinner party on the yacht of Aga Khan III,” he answered. “I wanted you to wear something special.”
“I haven’t even said yes. How do you know I’ll come?” Lily asked playfully. “And for a serious businessman, you spend a lot of time on yachts.”
“Yachts in Sardinia are like golf courses or country clubs. That’s where people conduct business,” Ricky explained. “And Aga Khan III is the grandson of Prince Aga Khan. He is a very influential man.”
Lily remembered reading how Prince Aga Khan turned the wild stretch of Sardinia into a playground for the rich and famous in the 1960s. His consortium still owned most of the hotels and the marina.
“I suppose I could make the time.” She smiled. “Thank you, for the dress, it’s lovely. I’m just afraid I’ll be like Cinderella at the ball, and everyone will know I’m an imposter.”
“You will be the most stunning woman there,” Ricky said softly. “And Lily, wear the ruby pendant. I can’t wait to see it around your neck.”
Lily hung up and felt like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Could she really spend her time drinking champagne and eating oysters? But there was nothing in the books about divorce that said she had to resign herself to carpools and chaperoning field trips. Ricky was handsome and charming, and she couldn’t wait to be with him.
She fingered the ruby pendant and noticed one of the rubies was missing. What if it had fallen out when she’d tried it on in front of the mirror? She crouched down and searched underneath the table. She peeled back the rug and looked behind the sofa.
She could ask Enzo, but he might think she was accusing one of the maids of taking it. Someone must have vacuumed it up and not noticed.
Ricky might not mind if she misplaced a straw hat, but he would be upset if she lost a precious jewel. Suddenly, she had an idea. She scooped up the velvet case and hoped it would work.
* * *
Lily turned onto the Via Porto Vecchio and passed Cartier, with its glittering diamonds, and Prada, with its soft leather sandals. Porto Cervo resembled the villages she and Oliver had visited in Tuscany. But instead of butchers with slabs of meat and delicatessens with sausages dangling from hooks, there were stores selling designer shoes and priceless jewels.
She entered a shop with a pink marble floor and pastel-colored walls. Jewelry cases held heart-shaped watches and rings set with amethysts and topazes.
“Welcome to Sybarite.” A man stood behind the counter. “May I help you?”
“I hope so.” Lily took off her sunglasses. “What a wonderful store, your collections are exquisite.”
“We take great pride in our pieces.” He nodded. “We just got in a selection of brooches designed for Princess Caroline of Monaco.”
“I’m not here to buy anything, exactly.” She handed him the velvet case. “I’ve done something terrible. A friend gave me a ruby pendant, and I lost one of the stones. I wonder if you could replace it.”
He snapped it open and took out the ruby pendant.
“It’s a beautiful piece. The rubies are imported from Burma, and the clasp is twenty-four-carat gold.” He looked up. “Ricky has wonderful taste. He told me he was buying it for the lovely American who owned the new Lily Bristol.”
“You know Ricky?” Lily asked.
“Of course.” The man nodded. “Last year, he bought our finest engagement ring. A square sapphire surrounded by white diamonds.”
Lily started, and her cheeks turned pale.
“Did you say an engagement ring?” she gasped.
“Yes, he brought in his fiancée. Her name was Poppy, and she was American. Long blond hair and wearing a striped jumpsuit,” he remembered. “You almost never see a couple shopping for an engagement ring together. Ricky said Poppy had excellent taste and knew exactly what she wanted.” He paused. “It was unfortunate that Ricky returned the ring a week later.”
“He brought it back?”
“It happens sometimes, of course,” he said. “One never asks why. A returned engagement ring is a sensitive subject.”
He opened a drawer and took out a ruby. He inserted it in the pendant and handed the case to Lily.
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she breathed. “I can’t tell the difference. What do I owe you?”
“Business owners in Porto Cervo must help each other.” He thought about it. “Wear it to the store opening and tell everyone where it’s from. It will be our gift to the stunning owner of Lily Bristol.”
“Thank you.” She beamed. “That’s exactly what I’ll do.”
* * *
Lily stepped onto the cobblestones and adjusted her hat. She felt slightly queasy—like when you left the doctor’s office after conducting some tests, she thought. You knew it was probably nothing, and that any minute the nurse would call and say they came back all clear. But if there wasn’t a chance something was wrong, why would you have taken them in the first place?
Ricky had said he was serious about love, but he’d never met the right woman. But surely, if he had been engaged, he had been in love before. And why hadn’t he mentioned it?
It probably didn’t mean anything at all. They had so many other things to talk about: the Emerald Coast’s white sand beaches and Lily Bristol’s grand opening and where to buy the best gelato.
The only thing she could do was ask Ricky. But the problem with asking difficult questions was, sometimes you didn’t like the answer. And even if he could explain why he’d hidden his engagement, what if there were other things he hadn’t told her?
She shielded her eyes from the sun and remembered when Oliver had lied to her about Mirabelle. She had thought if only they could start fresh, everything would be different.
* * *
Lily plumped cushions in the farmhouse’s living room and sighed. Oliver had been gone for a week, and she had rearranged the pantry and scrubbed the mudroom. She hadn’t realized how much she would miss him. She missed him handing her coffee with two sugars every morning and calling during his lunch hour and arriving home with Momofuku blueberry cookies.
Perhaps the note from Mirabelle was perfectly innocent. They’d had a friendly cup of coffee or run into each other on Fifth Avenue. But if nothing had happened, Oliver would have told her. Instead, he’d hurried away like the villain in a spy novel.
They had to think about Louisa. They couldn’t let their marriage dissolve like aspirin in a glass of water. But what if she asked Oliver about Mirabelle and he gave her an answer she didn’t want to hear? Then she would have to call a divorce attorney and think about selling the farmhouse.
She straightened magazines on the coffee table and thought anything was better than living in limbo. It was like when she taught Louisa how to dive. You couldn’t stay perched on top of a diving board; you had to work up the courage and jump into the pool.
She grabbed her purse and ran down the front steps. She opened the car door and slid into the driver’s seat. She fiddled with the mirror and saw a figure ducking into the garage. She jumped out and ran to the garage door.
“Oliver! What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“You look lovely this morning,” he said. “You should always wear that shade of lipstick, it suits you.”
“It’s eight o clock in the morning! Why are you in the garage?”
“I bought Danishes and wondered if I could use the microwave. The one in my room at the Comfort Inn isn’t working. There’s nothing worse than a cold Danish, it tastes like cardboard.”
“But why are you prowling around our house? I could have thought you were a burglar and called the police.”
“I hope you recognize your own husband, I’ve only been gone a week.” He paused. “Though you look different. You’ve done something with your hair.”
“You haven’t answered my question,” she said. “And you’re getting pastry flakes on the garage floor.”
“I brought you one too.” He handed her the bag. “I come here every morning. I watched you polish the dining room table and dust the bookshelves,” he admitted. “But today you walked outside, and I got scared.”
“So you hid in the garage?”
“We don’t have any bushes,” he explained awkwardly. “It was the closest thing.”
“You’ve been spying on me all week?” she asked, and didn’t know whether to be furious or slightly happy. Oliver hadn’t been having trysts with Mirabelle; he had been peering through their window.
“Well, yes.” He nodded. “We really should hire someone to clean the drapes. I don’t like you climbing on that ladder.”
“Why didn’t you knock on the door?”
He rubbed his forehead, and she noticed his cheeks were pale, and there were circles under his eyes.
“I was afraid you would tell me to go away.”
“I probably would have.” She fiddled with her earrings.
“Are you going to tell me to leave now?” he asked.
“No, Oliver.” She shook her head. “I want to hear what you have to say.”
“I had dinner at Mirabelle. I shouldn’t have, but I was so miserable,” he began. “She offered to show me the kitchen, and things got out of hand. It was a terrible mistake. You’re the only woman I ever wanted, and I’d do anything to keep you.”
“Something did happen between you and Mirabelle?” She clutched the paper bag.
“Yes, but it’s not as bad as you think.” He touched Lily’s hand. “I promise it will never happen again.”
“That’s what you said when you kissed her.” Lily pulled away.
“But I had a reason to kiss her, you kissed Roger,” he reminded her. “This is different, it’s entirely my fault.”
“How you could see her again when we were trying to work things out?” she asked, and her voice rose.
“Not talking to you was the worst thing in the world. I needed to end the pain,” he explained. “But I realized right away it was a mistake. I should have begged you to take me back.”
“I don’t think that’s possible, Oliver,” she said slowly. “It’s better if we separate before we cause each other more pain.”
“We love each other! We can’t throw away our marriage like cold pizza,” he protested. “We have to start over.”
“What do you mean?” she looked up.
“Do you remember when we met at the train station in Naples?” he asked eagerly. “Let’s have our first date all over again. We’ll be together just because we love each other’s company.”
“You want to go on a first date?” She laughed.
“That’s exactly what I want to do,” he insisted. “And I know where. Meet me at Grand Central Station at six PM.”
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“It’s a surprise.” He handed her his pastry. “You can have my Danish too. I have to catch a train.”
* * *
Lily stood under the clock at Grand Central and glanced at the revolving glass doors. It was almost six thirty and Oliver hadn’t shown up. Maybe he’d gotten delayed at work or forgotten he had an evening function. She would have a bowl of corn chowder and take the train home.
She turned and saw Oliver hurrying toward her. He wore a blue blazer and carried a paper sack.
“It’s impossible to get fresh peaches in New York in November.” He handed her the bag. “I finally found a market on the Upper West Side that imports them from Argentina, and charges fifteen dollars a peach.”
“You brought me peaches?” She looked inside.
“Don’t you remember when we met?” he asked. “Your sandwich fell on the floor, and you lost your credit cards. I offered you a peach because you were starving.”
“Thank you.” She nodded. “They smell delicious.”
“You can’t eat them yet. You’ll spoil your appetite.” He took her hand. “Come with me.”
They walked a few blocks to East 44th Street and entered a brick building. The interior had polished wood floors and red wallpaper and pinpoint lighting. Tables were set with checkered tablecloths, and it smelled of garlic and tomatoes.
“Piccolo Fiore is the finest Italian restaurant in Midtown.” Oliver led her to a table by the window. “Their gnocchi Genovese is better than you’ll find in Rome, and the pastas are made fresh in the kitchen.”
“That’s very nice, Oliver.” She sat down. “But why did you drag me into the city? We have Italian restaurants in Wilton. And I’m not in the mood to have the chef come to the table and thank you for your review.”
“That’s not possible,” Oliver said and smiled. “The restaurant is closed.”
“What did you say?” She looked up.
“The restaurant is closed on Tuesdays,” he explained. “We have the place to ourselves.”
Lily noticed the water glasses weren’t filled and the breadbaskets were empty.
“How will we eat?” she asked.
“Wait here,” Oliver replied. “I’ll be right back.”
The kitchen doors opened, and Oliver carried plates of buffalo mozzarella and stuffed olives. There was spaghetti with meatballs and grilled asparagus. He poured two glasses of Chianti and handed one to Lily.
“Where did all this come from?” She took a bite of melon wrapped in prosciutto and had never tasted anything so delicious.
“Daniel, the chef, owed me a favor.” Oliver sipped his wine. “Do you remember our first meal at Umberto’s? The door was locked, and you thought we were breaking into a restaurant. I went into the kitchen and brought out eggplant parmigana and bowls of minestrone.
“I asked what you wanted to be when you weren’t getting stranded in train stations, and you said you wanted to open a furnishings store.” He paused. “Then you suggested I become a food critic.”
“Of course I remember,” Lily said, and a chill ran down her spine.
“Look what we’ve achieved.” Oliver sat forward. “Lily Bristol is an international brand, and I’m the restaurant critic for the New York Times, and we have a wonderful daughter. We can’t throw it away because of a few missteps. Think of what we’ll miss.”
Oliver’s blue eyes sparkled, and Lily remembered everything she loved about him. But then she imagined him kissing Mirabelle, and her stomach clenched.
“Too much has happened.” Lily fiddled with her glass. “I don’t know if we can look at each other in the same way.”
“I’m looking at you now, and I see a woman in a yellow dress who is more beautiful than the day we met.” He took her hand. “Of all the airports and bus terminals and train stations in Italy, you ended up in Naples. Don’t you think if we had the good fortune to find ourselves on the same platform, we have to keep trying?”
“It doesn’t mean anything if we don’t make each other happy.” Lily’s eyes glistened. “Every marriage is built on trust, and we broke it.”
“They rebuilt San Francisco after the earthquake and New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina,” he urged. “We have to make it work.”
Oliver kissed her, and her heart melted. He was everything she wanted, and she couldn’t imagine life without him.
“All right,” she whispered. “We’ll give it another chance.”
“Good,” Oliver said and smiled. “Because I just got spaghetti sauce on my tie, and you’re better at getting the stains out.”
* * *
They ate flourless chocolate cake and talked about spending a week on Lake Michigan the following summer. Oliver suggested having an aperitif, and they took a cab to the St. Regis.
Lily sipped a Casanova with Campari and orange juice and thought she never tired of the King Cole Bar. The Maxfield Parrish mural was stunning, the inlaid gold ceiling was spectacular, and the walnut booths made you feel like were in an English library. And the people! Men wore wool overcoats, and women were dressed in cashmere suits, and they all looked impossibly sophisticated.
Lily went to the powder room to refresh her makeup and returned to the bar. Oliver drummed his fingers on the wood. His fists were clenched, and he looked like he was going to explode.
“What happened?” She sat next to him. “I was only gone a minute.”
“You left your phone and you got a text,” he offered. “I shouldn’t have looked, but I thought it might be the babysitter. It was from Roger. He’s going to be in New York next week and wanted to know if you’d like to have lunch.”
“Roger!” Lily gasped, and ice filled her veins. “I have no idea why he would text me. I haven’t spoken to him since that night in San Francisco.”
“Why does he have your number at all?” Oliver asked.
“I’ve had the same number for years.” Lily’s eyes blazed. “I thought we were going to trust each other.”
“That was before Roger’s name showed up on your phone.” He stood up. “I don’t feel like drinking a Bloody Mary and listening to jazz. I’m going home.”
* * *
Lily fumbled with her key and opened the door of the farmhouse. Oliver hadn’t said a word on the train. Now he entered the living room and poured a glass of scotch.
“Don’t you think it’s odd that Roger would text you out of the blue and try make a date?” He filled the glass with ice and took a long gulp. “Usually when people are in New York on business, they’re too busy to have lunch.”
“I would never make plans to see Roger. And I told you, I have no idea why he contacted me,” Lily said. “If you don’t believe me, you can call and ask him if we’ve been in touch.”
“The last person I want to talk to is the man who keeps trying to ruin my marriage.” He bristled.
“No one can ruin our marriage except us, Oliver.” She walked to the hallway.
“And don’t tell me to sleep in the guest room.” He followed her. “I paid for our down comforter, and I’m going to sleep under it.”
“You’re welcome to the bedroom,” Lily said and smoothed her skirt. “I’ll sleep in the guest room.”
* * *
Lily clutched her champagne glass and glanced around the room. Colored lights dangled from the ceiling, and a Christmas tree was decorated with glass ornaments. Waiters carried trays of profiteroles, and Lily inhaled the scent of nutmeg and cinnamon.
For the first time in weeks, Lily felt slightly hopeful. She and Oliver had finally made up and were sleeping in the same bed. They’d taken Louisa Christmas shopping on Fifth Avenue and spent a romantic weekend at an inn in Vermont.
Now they were at the Spotted Pig’s annual Christmas party. Manhattan’s hottest restaurateurs gathered in the Spotted Pig’s private dining room to nibble scallops and drink Brandy Alexanders. Oliver flitted from group to group, and Lily felt a surge of pride. Oliver was just a boy from Michigan, and now he was the most sought-after food critic in New York.
“If we stand under the mistletoe, you have to kiss me.” Oliver appeared at her side. He held a plate of fruit tarts, and she inhaled the scent of his cologne.
“As I recall, we did quite a lot of that on the train into the city.” She smiled.
“I can’t wait until we leave so we can repeat the performance.” He kissed her. “I might even ask Ken if we can take a bottle of champagne. It’s making me appreciate your beauty.”
“Oliver, you don’t need to flirt with me.” She laughed. “It’s lovely to be here. The room looks so festive, and everyone is enjoying themselves.”
“I don’t care about any of it. I just want to be with you,” Oliver said, and his eyes were serious. “Let’s never fight again. I can’t bear it.”
“Why should we fight if there’s nothing to fight about?” she agreed. “Now go mingle. Everyone wants to say Merry Christmas to Oliver Bristol, New York Times restaurant critic.”
Oliver drifted across the room, and Lily went to the powder room to reapply her lipstick. She walked out and saw a couple standing under the mistletoe. The woman had blond hair and wore a red dress. She stood on tiptoe and had one hand in the man’s pocket.
Lily blinked and realized the man was Oliver. His hand was around Mirabelle’s waist, and his eyes were slightly closed.
“Oliver!” Lily exclaimed. Her cheeks flushed and she ran down the steps.
“Lily!” Oliver jumped and raced after her. “Where are you going?”
“I’m leaving, Oliver.” She gave her claim to the coat-check girl.
“We can’t leave without saying good-bye to our hosts,” he hissed. “It’s not polite.”
“You can do anything you like.” She slipped on her coat. “I’m going home.”
Lily hurried down West 11th Street and tried to stop shaking. Slush covered the sidewalk, but she was too upset to flag a cab.
“Where are you going?” Oliver caught up with her. “And you’re not even wearing boots. You’re going to freeze to death.”
“I’m not your concern,” she said. “Go back to the party.”
“Of course you’re my concern, you’re my wife.” He touched her arm. “Lily, stop. It didn’t mean anything. Mirabelle walked by, and I was standing under the mistletoe. I shouldn’t have let her kiss me. She was just being friendly. But it was a stupid thing to do, and I apologize.”
“You had your eyes half-closed like a swooning teenager,” she retorted. “And her hand was in your pocket.”
“She gave me a Christmas present.” He took a flat box out of his pocket. He tore it open and held up a silver pen. “I receive a dozen pens at Christmas. That’s hardly a romantic overture.”
“Keep it,” Lily snapped. “You can use it to sign the divorce papers.”
“I’ll give it back, if you prefer,” he pleaded. “I promise I’ll never see her again.”
Snow dusted Lily’s cheeks, and she took a deep breath.
“It’s no use, Oliver,” she sighed. “This isn’t working.”
“What do you mean?” he protested. “We had the best sex we’ve had in months in Vermont. And we had so much fun Christmas shopping with Louisa. She’s positive Santa Claus is going to bring her everything on her list.”
“It’s not hard to have great sex, we’ve been doing it for years. And we’re both good parents.” She twisted her hands. “But there will always be a Mirabelle or a Roger between us. We’re not a team anymore.”
“We’ll become a team,” he insisted. “We’ll take up couples yoga or learn to play bridge.”
“I watch you looking at me sometimes, and it’s as if you’re seeing someone else. And every time you get a text, I wonder if it’s from Mirabelle.”
“Sometimes I wonder if you wished you married Roger. But I know I’m being silly.” He paused. “And I swear I haven’t had any communication with Mirabelle.”
“The problem is I don’t believe you, even when you’re telling the truth,” she said, and her eyes were huge. “We can’t live like this. Any moment there can be a flare-up.”
“What do you want to do?” he asked.
“One of us has to leave,” she said quietly.
“Leave for how long?” he gasped.
She walked to the curb and raised her arm. She waited for a cab to pull up and turned around. “Leave for however long it takes us to be happy.”
* * *
Lily adjusted her sunglasses and entered the lobby of Hotel Cervo. She thought of what the jewelry store owner had said about Ricky’s excellent taste in jewelry and gulped. She had to ask Ricky why he hadn’t mentioned his engagement. They couldn’t have secrets in their relationship.
Sofas were scattered with sea foam cushions, and vases were filled with yellow orchids, and Lily had never been anywhere more beautiful. She climbed the steps to her room and hoped Ricky had the right answer. If he didn’t, she didn’t know what she would do.
* * *
Lily stood in front of the mirror and zipped up her red chiffon dress. She slipped on gold sandals and dabbed her wrists with perfume. There was a bouquet of roses on the glass coffee table, and she felt a shiver of excitement.
After she’d returned from the jewelry store, she took a swim in the hotel pool. Then she came up to the suite and discovered the flowers with a note. Ricky couldn’t wait to see her, and they were going to have a wonderful evening.
She fastened the ruby pendant around her neck, and there was a knock at the door. Perhaps Enzo was bringing a platter of fruit and soft cheeses. She would tell him she was going out to dinner with Ricky; she didn’t need anything at all.
“Oliver!” She opened the door. “What do you want?”
“That’s not a polite greeting. I would have thought after four days on the Emerald Coast you’d be more relaxed.” He entered the suite. “It smells like a florist in here. Where did the roses come from?”
“They were a gift.” She followed him into the living room. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m busy.”
“You really should slow down and enjoy yourself.” He poured a glass of scotch. “Don’t you remember when we booked our holiday, we were so excited about exploring the Emerald Coast? We even thought of renting a Ducati motorcycle and driving up into the hills.”
“You suggested it. It was part of an early midlife crisis.” She fixed her hair in front of the mirror. “I would never get on the back of a motorcycle.”
“You could have worn a scarf and oversized sunglasses. We could have looked like a modern-day Bonnie and Clyde.” He perched on the sofa. “The sun would have stretched over the horizon, and the sea would have been a dappled carpet.”
“That’s quite poetic, but I have a date.” She fastened her earrings. “Why are you here?”
“There’s something I have to tell you,” he said. “But you better sit down.”
Lily turned and felt a small tremor.
“Did something happen to Louisa?” she asked.
“Louisa is fine. The last time I talked to her she was baking chocolate-chip cookies.” He paused. “I thought about what you said, that a relationship has to move forward. I think you’re right.”
“Is that all? I have to get ready.” She fastened the ruby pendant around her neck. “I’m supposed to be at the harbor in thirty minutes.”
“Good god, where did you get that pendant?” Oliver jumped up. “Don’t tell me you’re dating some Eurotrash. They buy you expensive jewels, and then they get stolen. You file an insurance claim and give them the money. It’s only when you discover a ‘Dear Jane’ letter on your pillow that you realize the jewelry was fake. It’s worse than those scams claiming you inherited ten million dollars from a dead relative in Africa.”
“Ricky gave it to me,” she said. “He bought it at a jewelry store in Porto Cervo.”
“Ricky gave it to you?”
“If you say one word about him moving too fast, I will ask you to leave,” she warned him. “It’s just a pendant, and it’s lovely.”
“I don’t think you’re moving too fast at all.”
“You don’t?” She looked up.
“That’s what I want to talk to you about.” He took a deep breath. “I’m going to ask Angela to marry me.”
“You’re what?” Lily started, and her hairbrush fell on the floor.
“I’m not good at living alone. I end up watching Gilmore Girls because it’s the only thing I can find on Netflix.” He sipped his drink. “I always run out of toothpaste because I forget to stock up on toiletries at Grand Union.”
“I don’t mind if you get married, I want you to be happy.” She bit her lip. “But you have to do it for the right reasons.”
Oliver opened his mouth as if he were about to say something. He swallowed the scotch and ran his hands through his hair.
“What are the right reasons? That Angela and I love each other?” he inquired. “You and I loved each other, and that didn’t count for anything.”
“It counted for everything. We had ten wonderful years and created a beautiful daughter. Why are you telling me before you ask Angela?”
“I thought you should know,” he answered. “She’ll be Louisa’s stepmother.”
“You wouldn’t ask Angela to marry you if you didn’t think she would be good with Louisa,” she replied. “Honestly, Oliver. I appreciate the sentiment, but you don’t need my permission.”
“So you won’t tell me if you’re going to get married again?” he asked. “I don’t want Louisa raised by some hedge type who believes you need an Ivy League education and your own helicopter pad to be worth something.”
“What’s wrong with wanting to attend an Ivy League school?” She laughed. “But I’m not marrying anyone. I have to concentrate on Louisa and running Lily Bristol.”
“Well, I am getting married and I thought I should tell you,” he said stiffly. “Unless you prefer to communicate across the barbed wire fence at the playground like other divorced couples.”
“I’m glad we’re getting along.” She flushed. “But I don’t need to know the flavor of the wedding cake or the first dance song.”
“Do you remember when Louisa was little, and we dreamed about her wedding?” He sighed. “Whoever thought there would be any weddings in the family besides hers.”
“I’m sure your wedding will be gorgeous. You are marrying a florist.” She coated her lips with lipstick. “I really have to go. I’ll see you later.”
“Did you mean what you said about not getting married?” he asked.
“If the right man came along, I’d consider it.” Lily hesitated. “But right now, I’m much too busy.”
Oliver put his glass on the side table and walked to the door.
“That pendant suits you.” He turned around. “Whoever you choose will be a lucky man.”
* * *
Lily walked to the marina and tried to stop her heart from racing. Why was Oliver getting married? There was something he wasn’t telling her. Maybe he was just lonely. Oliver was never good at being alone. He slept with Louisa’s stuffed animals when she traveled and texted the minute she landed.
Oliver could do whatever he liked. And it would be good for Louisa. She would return from her weekends with Oliver with freshly washed hair and matching socks.
After all, she was seeing Ricky. But why hadn’t he told her he was engaged before? Maybe Ricky just wanted a summer romance, and she was going to get her heart broken.
She would tell Ricky she had a cold and curl up in her suite with a bowl of tomato soup and an old Meg Ryan movie. Tomorrow she’d spend all day at Lily Bristol, preparing for the grand opening. That’s why she was in Sardinia after all; she wasn’t looking for love.
“Lily, wait!” a male voice called.
She turned and saw Ricky striding toward her. His dark hair touched his collar, and he looked like an ad in a fashion magazine.
“I was so worried.” He caught up with her. “I went to your suite and you weren’t there.”
“You told me to meet you at the harbor,” she reminded him.
“I completely forgot.” He took her arm. “I was afraid you weren’t coming.”
“And you were worried?”
“Of course, I was worried. I waited all day to be with you.” He kissed her. “But you’re here. And that’s all that matters.”
Lily kissed him back, and he smelled of musk aftershave. The sea looked as calm as a bath, and suddenly she felt happy. Why should she eat a bowl of soup in her room when she could have dinner on a glamorous yacht?
“I can’t wait.” Lily tipped her face up to his. “I haven’t eaten since lunchtime and I’m starving.”
* * *
Lily leaned against the yacht’s railing and gazed at the harbor. The sky was black velvet, and Porto Cervo was an impossibly beautiful painting. Couples mingled on the deck, and she heard the sounds of laughter and tinkling ice cubes.
It had been a wonderful evening. The Aga Khan’s yacht was even bigger and more elaborate than Christoff’s. There was a ballroom with Carrara marble floors and Murano glass chandeliers, a gallery filled with Impressionist paintings, and a music room with a gold harpsichord and a Steinway grand piano. Staterooms were decorated in pastel silks and had canopied beds and oriental rugs like the inside of an Arabian palace.
The lower deck held a hothouse with beds of English roses and orchids imported from India. There was a deck where Afghan hounds lounged around, and an aviary filled with tropical birds. One room was devoted entirely to Ming vases and Fabergé eggs.
And the food! Platters of smoked salmon and Russian caviar and exotic vegetables. A chef from the Hôtel de Crillon in Paris made crepe suzettes, and a sushi chef prepared trays of dragon rolls. There was a selection of aged cognacs and two-hundred-year-old bottles of French wine.
One table displayed desserts from all over the world. Lily sampled shaved ice with mango pudding from Taiwan and vanilla lamington cakes dusted with coconut from Australia. She and Ricky shared phyllo and sweet cheese from Jerusalem and marsala custard gelato that was transported in portable freezers from a gelateria in Rome.
Lily tried to find a few minutes alone with Ricky, but they played in a shuffleboard tournament, and the Aga Khan insisted on taking them to his library and showing them his collection of rare manuscripts. Finally they were alone, and Lily took a deep breath.
“I’ve never seen anything like it.” Lily leaned against the railing. “The ballrooms resemble a palazzo in Venice, and the staterooms are like the palaces described in a Rudyard Kipling book. I half expected to see a tiger or some impossibly sleek cheetah.”
“The Aga Khan does have exquisite taste,” Ricky agreed, standing beside her.
“And the food!” Lily sighed. “It’s as if Michelin-starred chefs from all over the world gathered in one place. The Scottish salmon with wilted spinach was superb, and the caramel croquembouche could have been served at the finest restaurant in Paris.”
“This suits you,” Ricky mused. “Standing on the deck of a super-yacht with a champagne flute in your hand.”
“Who wouldn’t look good with the breeze blowing her hair and a ruby pendant around her neck.” Lily laughed. “It’s like when I attended the fashion shows in Milan. You think you must have the organza dress that resembles a birthday cake or the sheath that leaves you half naked until you picture wearing it on the street. Some things are best left as a fantasy.”
“This isn’t a fantasy at all.” Ricky waved his hand. “Do you remember when I said I want to help you be happy? You’re happy here. Your eyes sparkle, and you are radiant as a girl.”
“I’m having a wonderful time. The yacht is spectacular, and the food is delicious, and the air smells of the finest cologne,” Lily agreed. “But tomorrow I’ll worry whether we received enough RSVPs for the grand opening and if I made Louisa’s dentist appointment.”
“This doesn’t have to end.” He touched her hand. “I’m not going to let you go just because you have to get on a plane.”
“I have to live close to Oliver because of Louisa, and I work fifty-hour weeks,” she explained. “I can’t flit off to Sardinia for the weekend.”
“I’m falling in love with you, and I think you feel the same.” He kissed her. “We need to give ourselves a chance.”
Lily stepped back and fiddled with her earrings.
“I do have feelings for you. But there is something we haven’t talked about,” she began. “We can’t keep secrets from each other.”
“What kind of secrets?” he asked.
“Any kind.” She shrugged. “We need to be able to tell each other everything.”
“There is something I haven’t told you,” he admitted. “Do you remember when you came into my store, and I gave you my card? Then you called and invited me to lunch.” He paused. “I had already rung all the hotels in Porto Cervo looking for you. I couldn’t let you disappear.”
“Is that the only thing you haven’t told me?” she breathed.
“Of course it’s the only thing,” Ricky said and took her hand. “Let’s go inside. The Aga Khan asked us to play dominos, and we shouldn’t keep him waiting.”
Lily swallowed and tears pricked her eyes. If Ricky was capable of lying, they didn’t have anything at all.
“All this champagne gave me a headache,” she said. “Please give the Aga Khan my regrets. I’m going back to the hotel.”
“Did I say something wrong?” he asked.
“It’s nothing.” She hurried down the stairs and stepped onto the dock.
“Lily, wait!” He ran after her. “Something changed. You have to tell me what I did.”
Her heart thudded and she looked at Ricky. His dark eyes shone in the moonlight, and he had never looked so handsome.
“I lost a ruby from the pendant. I felt terrible, I thought you’d be disappointed,” she began. “I went to the jewelry store to replace it, and the salesman said you bought an engagement ring last year. You brought your fiancée, she was American, and her name was Poppy.
“How could you have been engaged and never have been in love before?” She looked up, and her eyes were huge. “And why didn’t you tell me?”
“In Sardinia, men are not supposed to show their weaknesses,” he began saying. “Poppy arrived on a yacht last summer. She was very pretty, and we swam and went horseback riding.
“She was on the Emerald Coast because she had just broken off an engagement. Everything had been arranged: the ceremony at St. James Church and the reception at the Pierre. She was afraid if she returned to America, she would be convinced to go through with it.
“Somehow I thought the best solution was to marry her. You couldn’t help but be dazzled by Poppy, she was like bubbles in champagne. We went shopping for a ring and planned to elope.” He paused. “A week later, her fiancé, Grant, appeared. Poppy hadn’t told me the correct story. Grant had gotten cold feet and called off the engagement.
“Poppy wanted to make him jealous. She sent him photos of the engagement ring, and Grant arrived on the next plane. Poppy returned my ring and said she hoped we could still be friends.
“I was too proud to tell you,” he finished. “What woman would want a man who has been discarded by someone else?”
“I wouldn’t have cared,” she said. “You should have told me the truth.”
“There are many things I have to learn about love, but I would never hurt you,” he pleaded. “Will you forgive me?”
Ricky pulled her close and kissed her. She kissed him back, and the dock seemed to spin. If she let him go, would she ever feel this way again?
“I forgive you,” she whispered and felt like her heart would explode.
Ricky grabbed her hand, and his face broke into a smile. He opened the door of the red convertible, and she slid into the passenger seat.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Somewhere completely private.” He jumped in beside her.
They drove into the hills and stopped in front of a stone villa. There was a fountain, and there were green trellises.
“It’s a little sparse inside.” He opened her car door. “My sister offered to furnish it, but I want to do it myself. “
Lily followed him into a tile entryway. The living room had rounded plaster walls and a patterned rug. There was a low white sofa with scattered cushions.
“The villa belonged to an American artist. At first, he couldn’t convince me to buy it. The bathroom doesn’t have a tub, and the stove only works if you blow in it. But then he brought me out here.” He led her to the patio. “I was like all the visitors who arrive on the Emerald Coast and never want to leave. I told him he could have every penny in my bank account, as long as he sold me this house.”
Lily inhaled the scent of myrtle and gasped. The view was of the whole coastline, and the sky was filled with a thousand stars. Yachts gleamed in the harbor, and she could see the lights of Porto Cervo.
“It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.” She nodded.
“Before it was beautiful.” He touched her cheek. “With you, it is a slice of heaven.”
Ricky’s hand fumbled under her dress, and she wondered if they were rushing into things. But if she asked to go home, they might not get another chance. She was a divorced woman on the brink of a love affair; she couldn’t stop now.
“I’m terribly thirsty.” She hesitated. “I’d give anything for another glass of champagne.”
Ricky found a bottle of champagne and two glasses and brought them into the living room. They sat on the sofa and talked about the Aga Khan’s yacht and Ricky’s store.
“When Louisa was born, Oliver smuggled champagne into the hospital. I wasn’t supposed to drink, but he said one glass wouldn’t hurt. And it was perfect! I wasn’t nervous about being a new mother.” She stopped and flushed. “I shouldn’t be talking about Oliver. I would understand if you wanted to take me home.”
“On the contrary, I think you and I feel the same,” he said.
“The same?” She looked up.
“We’re both nervous about what’s going to happen next. But we don’t want to miss out.”
Ricky gathered her in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. There was a king-sized bed and a dresser with a vase of sunflowers.
He unzipped her dress, and it fell to the floor. Lily turned and unbuttoned his shirt.
“I’m falling in love with you,” Ricky whispered and drew her onto the bed.
“I’m falling in love with you too,” Lily murmured.
His fingers made circles around the small of her back and her body tightened. She pulled him on top of her, and he gasped. She’d forgotten what it was like to be with a new man. The sheets were crisp against her skin, and she felt almost electric. He pushed inside her, and she savored his weight and then the exquisite opening.
He moved faster, and she dug her fingers into his back. Her body shuddered, and all she could feel was the deep throbbing and the warmth exploding inside her
“Love is a very good thing,” Ricky moaned and pulled her close.
“I agree,” Lily breathed and tucked herself against his chest.
* * *
Lily stood at the window and smoothed her hair. Ricky was asleep, but suddenly she was thirsty. She padded into the kitchen and poured a glass of sparkling water.
She moved through the living room and noticed a wooden coffee table. There was a stack of envelopes on it and a bowl of fruit.
She picked up a peach and remembered when Oliver had given her a peach at the train station. She had been certain they would be in love forever. Now she was standing in a strange man’s living room on the Emerald Coast.
She waited to become anxious, but all she felt was a giddy excitement. She climbed into the bed beside Ricky and closed her eyes.