‘And what did you do then?’ His voice soft.
‘Then? Well, I did go and see the headmistress but I didn’t ask in the end.’ She met his gaze, this time holding it. Her eyes wandered over his skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. ‘I hear Evelyn has secured a place at The Sorbonne, I was so pleased when I heard they’d accepted her for a scholarship.’
‘So was I,’ he replied on a smile, his gaze drawn again to her mouth. ‘But probably not for quite the same reasons. You were saying?’
‘I was saying?’
‘Yes, you were telling me about how you found me?’
‘Oh, yes. Well, after the trail had dried up so to speak, I decided to ask Pauline.’
‘Of course, I should have guessed.’ He interrupted.
‘You should have guessed?’
‘No, nothing. Sorry. Carry on.’
‘Pauline told me all about Prymentia and the loan my father had taken out before he’d died, so I flew home…’
‘Home?’
‘Yes, you know. Martha’s Vineyard.’ Picking up the tissue she blew her nose gently, careful to avoid his gaze. ‘I saw you there.’
‘Ah, I wondered if you had,’ he replied, plucking the tissue out of her hand and aiming it into the bin before shifting up beside her and taking her hand. ‘I’ve wondered a lot since then,’ his fingers turning her hand palm up and sliding across the skin. ‘I’ve been wondering about this, and whether you’d finally found the courage you needed. Is the pain gone?’ he said suddenly, curling his fingers through hers before placing their entwined hands on his lap.’
‘My hand doesn’t hurt, if that’s what you mean? I’ve my final appointment tomorrow but he’ll sign me off.’
He didn’t question her further, just in case she said something he didn’t like. In truth, he was scared of her words.
Looking up, he noticed just how busy the park was getting. He preferred it in the depths of winter when there’d just been the two of them but it couldn’t be helped. Nothing could be helped. He had to carry on, despite the screaming children racing along the paths with the devil at their heels.
‘You haven’t answered my question?’
‘What? I’ve told you my hand doesn’t…’
‘Not that question, the other one. The why question.’ He half turned and, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, pulled her towards him. He felt the resistance and then her acquiescence as she moulded herself to his side, her head just under his chin. ‘Why were you looking for me, Cara?’
‘I wanted to apologise, I needed to apologise.’
‘For?’
‘For thinking that you were after the money.’
‘What money?’
‘My money,’ she added, sitting up now and easing away to the other end of the bench, her face averted as she continued to speak. ‘This is difficult for me and you’re probably going to think I was snooping but it was by accident…’
‘Cara, I swear if you don’t get to the point, I’ll kiss you right here, right now.’
Her eyes met his before flickering away, a blush scoring her cheeks. ‘When, when I went back to your apartment I saw one of the letters on the desk. I wasn’t looking; I’m not a snoop…’
‘I’m not calling you a snoop. Just get on with your story.’
‘It’s not a story, it’s the truth,’ she snapped. ‘The letter was something about a golf course and I put two and two together and made...’
‘You made four, Cara,’ he said, heaving a sigh. ‘You made four but it was all before I met you. As soon as I realised you were her stepdaughter…’
‘Daughter. I’m her daughter, Matti, just as she’s my mother in every sense of the word.’ But he carried on as if she hadn’t spoken.
‘I’d always felt uncomfortable with the CEO’s ethics, especially after meeting Pauline. I did everything I could to try and find that money for her but there was nothing left to sell.’
‘You should have told me, that’s what you should have done.’
‘Cara, I’m a lawyer. I couldn’t tell you and, if it happened again I still couldn’t tell you.’
‘Even if I could have put it right?’
‘Put it right? How could you have put it right? There was a figurine or something?’ He stared across at her. There was something else, something important; something she was keeping to herself. His mind scrolled back over the days he’d spent at the manor house. There was nothing left to sell. It had all been sold long ago. His eyes shifted to the resident statue of Edwin Booth shaded under the leafy green foliage. There’d been no statue. So if there’d been nothing left where had all that money come from?
‘Cara, just how did Pauline pay off the loan?’
‘Well, Matti, I don’t think I can tell you, not if you’re going to be withholding information from me in the future,’ her eyes shining, as she gathered up her bag and went to stand up.
‘Cara, you’re not leaving this bench until you tell me.’ He jumped up and, leaning forward, pinned her between outstretched arms, his eyes, his lips only inches from hers. If he tipped his head slightly, he’d feel those lips against his and he felt giddy at the thought. It would be so much easier all around if she’d just raise her lips to his but that wasn't going to be happening any time soon by the stubborn set of her mouth.
‘Alright, if I must. But I’d like it to be noted for the record that I’m doing this under coercion,’ she said with a small smile. ‘I’m a millionaire.’
His hands dropped to his sides and he stumbled back as if she’d hit him. She had hit him. She’d hit him with the one thing that could drive a wedge between them larger than a double decker bus. A millionaire? How the hell could she be a millionaire, his eyes trying to psyche her out even as he scrolled back through everything he knew. There was the helicopter, of course, but she’d convinced him it wasn't expensive even thought he’d suspected she’d been lying. Then there’d been the hotel in London but again, she’d managed to convince him about it being out of season. The piano, he’d nearly forgotten about the swanky piano. And finally there was Pauline; Pauline living in poverty. How did that work exactly?
‘You’re a what?’ His voice rose.
‘Shush. I would prefer not everyone in the park knowing my bank balance, thank you very much.’
‘And what is your bank balance exactly?’
‘Well, I’m not sure. I’m not that good at checking statements…’
‘Cara,’ he warned.
‘Oh, all right. My last bank statement was 893 but I’ve bought a couple of properties since then.’
‘893 dollars, thousands?’
She coughed slightly. ‘Million, and it’s in pounds actually so that would be…’
‘More, that would be quite a bit more,’ his face suddenly pale under his Italian skin. He ran his hand through his hair, a look of pure confusion stamped across his features. ‘I don’t think I understand and I’m not sure I want to,’ he added, his look wary. ‘So how does it work exactly? You know, you being mega wealthy and Pauline being…’
‘Pauline’s a millionaire in her own right, Matti.’ Her voice firm.
‘But she wasn’t, was she?’
‘Come and sit down. I really don’t want my business wafting around Manhattan like a bad smell,’ she said, patting the space beside her, and only continuing when he’d joined her. ‘You know Pauline is my mother, my stepmother. I inherited my fortune and my title down my mother’s line and my father; my stubborn father wouldn’t touch a penny when she died.’ She sighed. ‘Oh, there was money for food and he used it on my education, my year in The Sorbonne but apart from that, it was all in an account run by my solicitor.’ It was her turn to take his hand, but he’d bet a million of those pounds she had no idea she was playing with his fingers. Her face, her voice, her expression all told him she was miles away. ‘I could have helped, you know. I’m not a bitch or anything but I was too wrapped up in my music and then Aaron to realise what was happening ba
ck home.’ She paused; her fingers paused before placing his hand back on the bench between them. ‘And then it was too late. My dad was gone, Aaron was gone and Pauline and I, well it’s not as if we’ve ever been on the best of terms until recently, that is. It was too late and, if I hadn’t visited when we were in London, there’d be a ruddy great golf course instead of our home.’
‘You probably won’t believe me but I was going to hand my notice in the following morning. I’d had enough of Murray and his firms’ antics. I’m working with my dad back in Cape Cod now.’ He pulled a face. ‘I’m thirty-four years old and living in my old room and working for my old man.’
‘And are you happy?’
‘Happy? What’s happy?’ His face turned towards hers. ‘I’m my own boss, within reason, and I have enough money to make ends meet, if not in the middle then nearly so.’
‘And what about girlfriends?’
‘Girlfriends,’ he exploded. ‘You ask me about girlfriends! Just who was that hunk you were canoodling with in Edgartown, hmm? You can’t answer, can you?’ his eyes flashing.
‘Yes, I can. That was Pascal de Sauvarin, or the Marquis de Sauvarin, if you’d like his exact title. He’s married to my best friend, Matti and, whilst I acknowledge he’s a hunk, he’s really not my type,’ she said, starting to giggle. ‘Wait ‘til I tell him you called him a hunk,’ her giggle disappearing as suddenly as it had started. ‘You’re doing that man thing about answering a question with a question aren’t you? What was it again, oh yeah – girlfriends. We were talking about your girlfriends?’
‘Cara, there’s no one, no one and there won’t be anyone else, ever. I thought you understood that afternoon…’ Leaning towards her, he lifted a hand and ran a finger across her bottom lip. ‘And what about you tesoro mio, are you happy by yourself? Now your hand is healed and you have your music back?’
He was watching her face, expecting a smile, a glimmer of the inner delight she must be feeling at being able to play again. There was no smile. There was no expression. There was nothing.
‘If only life was so simple, but it’s not.’ She heaved her shoulders. ‘Oh, I can play. I can play up to a point,’ she added, stretching her hands out in front of her and flexing her fingers as if she was sitting in front of a keyboard. ‘But I’ll never be good enough.’
‘Good enough for whom? Who do you need to be good enough for? I’m confused.’
‘Good enough for me, Matti. Just good enough for me. You’re not an artist, a musician, so you don’t understand, you can’t. If I can’t play properly, I’d prefer not to play.’
‘Cara, I can’t help you with that. In fact, I can’t help you at all,’ his eyes wavering and then he stood up.
She stood up too and faced him, her arms grabbing onto his wrists. ‘And what? And now you leave me, is that it? You who set me on this road to nowhere and now you’re just going to walk away?’ Suddenly he was free and she was the one turning away. She grabbed her bag and, opening it started rummaging down the bottom.
‘It’s not like that Tesora.’
‘Don’t call me that. I’m not your treasure.’
‘But you are, and that’s why I can’t stay.’
‘What?’ She turned back, her eyes searching his face.
‘I love you, Cara. I love you with every molecule but I can’t have you thinking I’m after your money or your title.’ He spread his hands wide before turning and heading towards the gate only to pause in his tracks at her laugh.
He felt her hand on his back, his arm and then something being thrust into his hands.
‘Here, this is for you. I should have given it to you at the start but I sort of forgot.’
He glanced down at the envelope with a frown. His fingers already working their way under the glued flap. ‘What is it?’
‘Read it, Matti. But before you do just remember it wasn't my idea. In fact, it has nothing to do with me or indeed you. Pauline wants to get married and Mr Pidgeon, Horace, won’t marry her because, just like you, he doesn’t want people to think he’s marrying her for her money.’
His eyes scanned her face and then dropped to scan the letter. ‘I don’t understand?’
‘I thought you were the lawyer, not me. It’s all very clear,’ she continued. ‘You’re Pauline’s heir, not that there’ll be anything left the way she’s filling up those acres with any and every unwanted and unloved animal she can find,’ she continued, missing his expression as she plucked the letter and envelope out of his frozen fingers and stuffed them both back in her bag any old how. ‘But that’s not the point, is it? Today, now you’re heir to millions and I quite fancy a trip to Tiffany’s. What do you say?’
What do you say? Say something. Say anything.
Cara shifted from one foot to the other, wishing now she’d kept her big mouth shut. She shouldn’t have showed him the letter. She should have posted it so at least he’d have some warning, her eyes drinking in his expression. What was he thinking? Was he happy or sad? She had no idea and, at this rate, the park would be closed before she had an answer.
Of course, now he was heir to millions, he could walk away. He didn’t need her anymore and in some sort of perverse way, that’s how she wanted it. She wanted to be loved for herself and this was the only way of knowing. But it hurt. It hurt so much standing in the gateway waiting for an answer, any answer. It hurt because she needed him desperately. She’d been lucky to find love twice in a lifetime and now she wanted it all. She wanted the wedding, the honeymoon and the kids. She wanted all of it. She might be lucky in a few years with her music and she might not but it wouldn’t hurt quite so much with him by her side.
He moved finally, a jerky uncoordinated movement as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Flipping the scarred leather open, he pulled out the notes and then the coins and, laying them flat on his hand, at last met her gaze. ‘I have a hundred and fifty three bucks. If you think you can manage to buy something you’d actually want to wear in Tiffany’s for that, I’m happy to pay for it?’
‘Well I think they do a special on engraving silver toothpicks…’
‘I’ll give you toothpicks,’ he said, swooping down and pressing his lips to hers, his arms wrapping themselves around her back in the tightest of holds. After a while, he leant back and, dropping the lightest of kisses on the end of her nose, whispered in her ear. ‘I think I might be able to afford a plain gold band but if not, you’ll have to do with silver.’
‘Matti, if all you can afford is a curtain ring I’ll wear it with pride.’
‘I didn’t think Tiffany’s sold curtains…?’ But his words were lost against her lips as Gramercy Park, Manhattan and New York City shifted to make room for a new world; a new world with only them at the centre.
The End
The Englishwoman Trilogy: Box set of: Englishwoman in Paris, Englishwoman in Scotland, Englishwoman in Manhattan Page 55