Dinner at the house in Fairford is going to be an outdoor affair, and Holly can hear the preparations below through the cracked window of the bedroom. The gardens of the house stretch down to a riverbank, and the back patio is a stone slab that’s cracked and mossy in all the right places. Holly glances up from the computer screen in front of her and watches the activity on the ground floor as Allison and Sarah and two men she hasn’t met yet drag a table and chairs into place for dinner. Sarah plugs in a string of clear fairy lights that are looped around the patio, and there’s talk of roast chicken and side dishes. It feels like a summer barbecue.
On the monitor, Holly quickly taps in her password to her email account. In less than ten seconds, her inbox is staring back at her.
“One, two, three, four, five…” she counts sixteen messages from Bonnie in all, eight from Fiona, and a couple from her other neighbors. There’s a rush of adrenaline as she clicks the very first one from Bonnie, sent late on Friday, May 12th. It’d probably come in as Holly and River had sat in the police station in Notting Hill.
Sugar—there’s no need to worry…yet. Fee and I tried to call you from the beach tonight outside the Ho Ho, but no answer. Listen, Coco is coming to town. There’s no way to put a candy coating on this lump of dung, so I’m just gonna say it. She called the B&B and then she called Buckhunter, and she’s coming down with some people she wants to show the island to. I’ll keep you posted, but please call me as soon as you get this! Love and kisses, Bon
Holly reads and re-reads the message, her eyes scanning the screen rapidly like a spy who might get caught riffling through the desk of a top government official. She commits the info to memory and moves on to the next one from Bonnie, sent on Saturday night.
The eagle has landed, sugar—or should I say the crow? (Haha—you know, because Coco is a bony old crow…okay, never mind.) Anyhow, Fiona and I were on hand to see her and her guests arrive today, and here’s the skinny: a rich-looking older couple named the Killjoys (I couldn’t make this stuff up!) and a Native American guy named Gator with no apparent sense of humor. They’re staying at the B&B for a few days. We’ll have to see how things go—after all, you can’t tell much about a chicken pie till you get through the crust. CALL ME! Love, Bon
Holly pats her pockets frantically, automatically searching for her phone. Of course, there is no phone. She scans the room, but there’s nothing. Skyping Bonnie isn’t out of the question, but the noise it would make to call and talk to her is probably a bad idea.
“Hol?” River’s heavy footsteps echo on the stairs. She logs out of her email without reading anything else and clicks off the monitor so that the screen goes black. “Holly—you up here?” It’s too late to leave the room and step into the bedroom that she and River are sharing, so before he reaches her, Holly pushes in the desk chair, stands, and gazes out the window at the rolling grass and the water beyond the house, hands on her hips like she’s pondering the view.
“Hey, is this our room?” River is standing in the doorway when Holly turns around with a placid smile on her face.
“This one? Oh, no, I was just coming back downstairs and I saw the view through this window,” she says. “Beautiful place.”
“Yeah, it is.” A split-second passes between them where River is clearly gauging Holly’s answer. His left eye narrows almost microscopically, and just as quickly, the moment passes. “Hey, do you want to go for a walk around the property before dinner? They kicked me out of the kitchen,” he says, holding out a hand for Holly to take.
“Sure.” She steps away from the window and takes his hand, grateful for the escape.
They wander through the tall grass all the way to a boathouse by the river, stopping to pick a few wildflowers as they talk about the crazy idea that they’re about to be models in a real magazine. Holly laughs and smiles at River’s jokes, high-stepping over rocks and following him up little hills and grassy knolls. In the distance the spire of a stone church that dates back to the 15th century is visible beyond the treetops.
A solid bridge with a gate at each end lets them cross back and forth over the narrow river. From where they are, Holly can see the outdoor lights twinkling over the patio on what has turned out to be a clear and beautiful evening.
“Should we head back?” River asks, turning to hand Holly another bunch of wildflowers.
As much as she isn’t in the mood to have dinner tonight with a bunch of strangers, Holly knows it’s time. She fills her lungs with air and nods. “Let’s get this show on the road,” she says with a forced smile.
Whether she wants to or not, it’s time to put on her game face and try to push the emails from Bonnie out of her mind.
“So you two met on this tropical island?” Sarah asks, her eyes dancing between Holly and River as she searches their faces. “And it was totally random—just a fishing trip with the boys that turned into true love?”
“That’s amazing,” Allison adds, pushing back her chair on the patio and standing up to pour more wine into everyone’s glasses.
Holly looks down at the table sheepishly. She isn’t ready to address whether or not their initial meeting on Christmas Key was kismet or true love, and she’s pretty sure that River isn’t about to drop to one knee and profess his undying love either.
“Well,” River says, drawing out the pause. They’re just getting their footing again after so many months apart, and he jiggles his leg nervously next to Holly’s under the table.
“Oh,” Sarah says, her mouth staying in position after the small word. She turns it into a low whistle. “Sorry. That’s none of my business.”
“No,” Holly says too loudly. “It’s fine. We’ve had a couple of hiccups since we met, but we live three thousand miles apart. Long-distance relationships are hard.” River says nothing, but reaches for his refilled wine glass, knocking his fork and knife off his plate noisily in the process. “And we’re hoping that this trip will give us a clearer picture of what the future holds.”
“How exciting!” Allison flings her bright red hair over one shoulder and blinks with wide eyes. “And romantic. Where are you going?”
River sets the wine glass down. “We’re going wherever the wind takes us,” he says, resting one strong arm on the back of Holly’s chair. “We got mugged the first night we were in London, and Holly lost her phone and cash.”
“No!” Allison and Sarah say, hands covering their mouths.
Holly looks at River’s profile as he tells the story, feeling relaxed for the first time since they arrived at this country house.
“Yep. And we agreed that morning that we’d both get by for the whole trip without phones or any connection to home, and that we’d say yes to everything that comes our way.”
“Pass the chicken?” Roberto, the editor for the magazine, holds out a hand as he interrupts the conversation. He and Heath, the photographer, have been eating and listening to the women with mild interest as they try to piece together Holly and River’s love story. River picks up the platter of roasted chicken and baby potatoes and passes it down to Roberto. “Thanks, mate.”
“So what have you said yes to so far?” Sarah spears a stalk of grilled asparagus on her fork and lifts it to her mouth.
“This photo shoot,” Holly says. “I met a modeling agent at Heathrow and she gave me her card. River set up the appointment to meet her, and boom—here we are.” She pushes her plate aside and leans back in her chair so that her shoulder touches the arm that River’s still resting on her seat back.
“What if I told you that I’m working on a film set in Dublin in a couple of weeks and they need extras—would you say yes to that?” Sarah lifts an eyebrow.
“We might,” River says without hesitation.
Holly is about to object, so she holds her tongue, focusing instead on the string of fairy lights winking against the sky that’s smudged with darkness. Stars dot the various shades of blue like pinpricks. In the distance, the call of a lone bird pierces the evening.
“It’s an action movie and it pays a per diem rate, but I could probably get you both in at the hotel where the extras are staying if you’re interested,” Sarah says, speaking more to River than to Holly, which Holly has picked up on and filed away for reference.
“Let’s trade info and we’ll touch bases,” River says, putting his hand on Holly’s shoulder and rubbing it with his thumb as he speaks.
“What info?” Holly turns to him. “We don’t have phones.”
“We could turn them on for that,” River says. He lifts his arm from the back of her chair and leans forward, placing both elbows on the table on either side of his dinner plate. A soft wind rustles across the patio, lifting the edges of their napkins and blowing the women’s hair around.
The only sound at the table is of silverware on plates as River’s statement settles over Holly. There’s been an unspoken friction between them all day, and River deciding without discussion that he’s willing to turn on his phone for a call from Sarah irks Holly. She stands and starts gathering empty plates and glasses.
“Oh, don’t do that,” Allison says with a laugh that bubbles from her chest. “We don’t make our models do grunt work.” She stands on her side of the table and follows Holly’s lead.
“I don’t mind,” Holly counters. “Really. I’m used to doing everything at my B&B. I can serve dinner, clean up after, run the office—you name it. I’m kind of a jack-of-all-trades.”
“Impressive,” Sarah says smoothly, leaning back in her chair. She doesn’t offer to help clean up. “I admire a woman who can juggle so many different things.”
Heath puts his salad plate on top of his dinner plate and pushes back his chair. “And I admire a man who doesn’t let the women do all the washing up.” His dark hair is coarse and rumpled, and over dinner, Holly’s noticed the way his eyes always look like he’s amused by everything that’s going on around him. “Also, my wife would have my head if she heard I sat around and made the women wait on me, so let’s do this, ladies.”
In short order, Heath, Allison, and Holly have the table cleared and the kitchen cleaned. When the dishwasher is finally humming in the warm kitchen, Holly runs a rag over the long farm table that’s been used for prep, swooping the crumbs into her open palm and dumping them into the sink. She doesn’t even notice as Heath and Allison fade from the room quietly, replaced by River and his wineglass. He’s standing next to the pantry door, his shoulder leaning against the wall as he watches her.
“You’re mad,” he says simply. “But I’m not sure why.”
“I’m not sure why, either,” Holly admits readily. “But I don’t like being roped into something later on that I’m not even sure I want to do right now.” The dishwasher clanks as water moves through the stacks of plates and forks.
“No one is roping you in,” River says with impatience. “I thought ‘maybe’ was generous of me, when technically I should have said ‘yes’ to her.”
Holly throws the dishtowel in her hand onto the counter and it lands with one end dangling into the oversized sink. “There is no ‘technically’ to this, River—we’re making the rules up as we go.” Holly pivots and stares out the window at the darkened garden beyond. “When we planned this trip, I thought it was going to be the two of us exploring Europe and seeing how this whole thing was going to work out between us—if it was even going to work out.”
River pushes himself away from the wall and sets his wineglass on the kitchen table. He walks up behind Holly and wraps his arms around her shoulders, resting his chin on top of her head. They can see their own reflections in the window over the sink.
“And see, I think we are exploring Europe and seeing whether this thing between us will work out,” he says softly, rocking her slightly as he holds her. “You know I like to have fun and be impulsive—who organized a game of baseball with coconuts on the beach in the moonlight?” he asks, reminding her of their impromptu game during his first visit to Christmas Key. “And if we’re going to do this,” he says, referring to their relationship, “then you have to accept that about me.”
“And you have to accept that I’m a little less impulsive than you are,” Holly says. “I like to plan and organize, and I like to have some control over my life. It’s what I do—it’s who I am.”
They’re both quiet for a moment as their words sink in with one another. “I don’t think our differences are a bad thing,” River says, letting go of Holly and turning her so that she’s facing him. “But I would love to see you stop trying to live in two places at once, at least for a couple of weeks.”
“What do you mean?” Holly wraps her arms around River’s waist and puts her cheek against his chest. “I’m not living in two places at once.”
River huffs. “You are always living on Christmas Key, at least in some corner of your mind.”
Holly’s kicked off her shoes and is standing on the warm terra cotta tiles of the kitchen floor in her bare feet. She tries to keep her mind entirely on the present: on the smell of River’s cologne that fills her nostrils as she hugs him; on the feel of the smooth tiles under her feet; on the sound of the dishwasher that’s filling the kitchen with heat. But she can’t do it. The mention of the island brings Bonnie’s emails back to the front of her mind, and the thought of Coco infiltrating Christmas Key raises her blood pressure and heart rate. She pushes back from River’s embrace.
“You’re right,” Holly says with a weak smile. “I’ll try harder.” It’s not terribly convincing, but it’s what she can give him for the moment. “I think I’m going to turn in,” she says. “I’ve never been a model before, but I hear they need their beauty rest. How about you?”
River looks away. “I think they’re having dessert out on the patio, so I might join them and then come up. I’ll try not to wake you.” He plants a hasty kiss on the top of her forehead and walks away, picking his wineglass up from the table as he goes.