“Yes, fast cities,” Mason said. “I lived in Boston and Washington, D.C. I spent some time in Philadelphia. People are always in a hurry, rushing, don’t stop for a minute. They don’t understand that everything can end at any moment.”
“That’s true,” Michael said. “One second and you are history.”
“We need to learn how to live for today,” Mason said. “We need to take from life everything it gives us. You just blink and it’s time to go.”
“Yes, right,” Michael nodded. He ate everything that was on his plate, unlike Mason, who practically didn’t touch his food.
“I hope you enjoyed this simple dinner,” Mason said.
“It was good.” Michael said, but his voice didn’t sound as enthused as he probably wanted it to sound. Margo’s head was spinning from the amount of wine and from the fact that she, while watching Mason, also tried not to overeat. Wine acted stronger on a hungry stomach.
“I’m glad. I really wanted you to like it,” Mason said. “Now I want to show you the pearl of my house—my wine room.”
“That would be great!” Margo exclaimed.
“Yeah,” Michael said without enthusiasm. Margo exhaled. She had so much to say to him later.
Mason stood up.
“After that we’ll start with dessert. I love dessert the most,” he said.
“Me too,” Margo answered.
Mason headed out of the room and Margo got up too, but Michael grabbed her arm.
“Listen, I feel sick,” he said, holding his stomach.
“No wonder,” Margo snapped. “You guzzled like a pig.”
Michael looked at her angrily.
“Don’t talk to me like that,” he said.
“Enough. I can’t believe you acted like this,” Margo answered.
“Where are you, guys?” Mason called from the other room.
“Coming!” Margo yelled.
Michael took a step from the table and stopped. Then, to Margo’s horror, he vomited right in the middle of the room, on the expensive wooden floor, and on the equally expensive Persian carpet.
Margo gasped.
“What happened?”
Mason returned to the room, striding faster than before, and froze in the doorway, viewing the catastrophic scene.
“What is it?” he asked.
Margo wanted to answer, but she couldn’t even breathe from anger and disappointment.
“I’m sorry,” Michael muttered.
Mason stared at the mound of vomit, spreading on the floor. Margo wanted to apologize, but the shock was so great that she couldn’t move or say a word even a minute later. The odor of Michael’s stomach contents concealed all other smells that had been in the room. Margo suddenly felt sick too and she was afraid she would cause even more distress to Mason with her weak stomach.
“I’ll clean it up.” Michael looked around. “Where can I find something to clean it up with?”
Mason raised his hand.
“It’s all right,” he said softly.
“He’ll clean it,” Margo finally said, but soon realized that if she didn’t leave the room immediately, she wouldn’t only barf, but she would also blackout. Her head was spinning as if she was sitting on a carousel. “Mason, thanks for the dinner. Everything was amazing.”
Mason didn’t answer or maybe he did, but Margo didn’t hear. She dashed out of the room, sprinted through the living room, and stopped only after she ran down off the porch. Leaning on the car, bending in half, she breathed so hard it seemed to her that dust rose in clouds at her feet, although of course it wasn’t like that. Michael called her after about three minutes, but Margo felt so dizzy that she needed another couple of minutes to recover. She even wanted to sit on the ground until she felt better, but fortunately she didn’t have to do that. When she got into the car, Michael was already there.
“I wanted to clean it up, but I puked again,” Michael said quietly and Margo moaned. “I wanted to clean that up, but then I felt sick again! I thought I would throw up all over his room, so I just ran away. Mason said that his wife bought that carpet.”
Michael started the engine and drove the car to the gate. It automatically flung open before them. They barely had time to leave when the gate began to close.
Margo bent her head on the cool window of the car, gradually returning back to life, although she was still sick and her head was spinning like she had done ten laps on a merry-go-round.
“What a disaster,” she mumbled. “I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.”
“I didn’t expect it,” Michael said, “but all those spices.”
“Couldn’t you eat like a normal person?” Margo groaned. She almost cried she was so upset. “Why did you attack that food like you hadn’t eaten in a hundred years?”
“That’s not true,” Michael said. “I just wanted to be polite.”
“Be polite? Are you kidding me? You were embarrassing,” Margo said.
“No one can control their stomach!” Michael yelled. “It’s not my fault.”
“If you ate slower, like a normal person, this wouldn’t have happened.” Margo wanted to add many unflattering epithets, but nausea rolled up to her throat again. The smell still remained in her nostrils and threatened to cause her stomach to turn inside out.
“Are you saying that I’m not a normal person? You’re very rude, by the way.”
“You ruined the evening!”
“Why are you so worried about this? Do you really think he will give you part of his shit?”
“That’s not important!” Margo cried. “We visited a man who has no one in his life. Did you see how happy he was to see us? The evening went so nicely and our visit would have left him something pleasant to remember for months. Now he will only remember your vomit!”
Margo noticed Michael frowning.
“So, you went there to entertain him? Was that your only goal?” he asked.
“Of course,” Margo said. “Also to have a good time. I like people, unlike you.”
Margo didn’t see, but felt that Michael was looking at her. Maybe she went too far with altruism? He had to believe that she didn’t want anything from Mason. Her desires were exclusively philanthropic. The only desire she had was the desire to make a person’s life better and more rewarding.
“I’m sure we’ll have an opportunity to make things right by him,” Michael said finally after scrutiny and deliberation.
“Yes, of course. Next time you’ll puke all over the house.”
“Enough already,” Michael said. “It’s not like all I do is barf! You can’t blame me! I’m telling you, it’s the spices. Maybe the shrimp weren’t fresh.”
Margo didn’t want to continue the conversation. She was at Mason’s house, walked around the rooms of old furniture (old, not vintage in her opinion) with her housekeeper and her secretary and told them what to clean, what to change, what to throw away. She wore a long silk robe and a heavy diamond necklace. The secretary wrote everything down in her notebook. The secretary was Daisy.
“Fucking Daisy.” Margo opened her purse and found the phone.
“What happened?” Michael asked.
“I think Daisy ran away or something. I don’t know. Her mother is looking for her.”
“I hope she’s all right,” Michael said.
“What would happen to her?” Margo answered.
She opened the message of her assistant’s mother and replied that she hadn’t seen her daughter for several days.
“I hope she’s all right,” Margo heard from Michael again, but didn’t answer. Daisy’s mother called and Margo had to repeat the info and add that they had an argument and she had to let her daughter go. After that, Margo hadn’t seen her. Daisy’s mother was upset that Margo fired her daughter and suggested it was the reason for her daughter to do something because she valued the job. Margo wasn’t going to take the blame, so she just hung up. Then she sent a message to Mason, where she thanked him for dinner and apolo
gized for Michael, avoiding calling him her husband. Mason didn’t answer and Margo decided to call him back the next day. She went to bed thinking about Mason and his house. For a moment, she thought about Daisy, but it was just before the dream overpowered her and Margo couldn’t remember in the morning what that thought was about.
CHAPTER 21
Margo closed the door behind the policemen and went to the kitchen to get a glass of wine. Yesterday she didn’t treat the situation with Daisy seriously and didn’t even think about her, but today she had to think about her and answer questions. Her former assistant really disappeared without a trace and her stupid mother didn’t find anything better to do than sending the policemen to Daisy’s former employer. How could she have anything to do with this girl? The police came early in the morning, asked questions which Margo answered without difficulty, and left. The questions were typical: working relations, arguments, any missing things. They asked if Daisy behaved differently in any way recently, if she talked about going anywhere, if she had enemies. Margo answered that recently Daisy did seem a little distracted, couldn’t concentrate on her work, and often came late. Those were the reasons Margo had to fire her. Their relationship was exclusively business and Margo didn’t know anything about Daisy’s personal life, she wasn’t even interested. It seemed to satisfy the police. At least, Margo hoped so.
Margo poured herself a glass of cold white wine and wanted to take a sip, but then sniffed it, twirled it around the glass, and only after that she drank it. Just yesterday, she couldn’t say with precision whether wine was good or bad, her only guide was price (something that wasn’t crazy expensive, but also not too cheap), but today she thought that this wine was sour. However, Margo didn’t have an alternative. She went outside drinking what she had, hoping it would take away some of the tension from her shoulders.
“He’s an idiot.”
Margo was sure that Tristan helped Daisy to “disappear without a trace”. How else would she disappear so suddenly without even telling her parents?
Margo ignored his endless calls and messages at first, but then turned off her phone and even thought about throwing it away. It wasn’t expensive, that was good. If Tristan really had something to do with the disappearance, she didn’t want to have anything to do with him. If the police began to seriously suspect him, they would check his calls and everything. They communicated via Viber and that was something authorities couldn’t find by regularly searching any phone data. At least Margo hoped that was the right information. She also thought that disposable phones were untraceable, especially if they were bought with cash, but what if she was mistaken? No matter what, extra caution “ain’t hurtin’ nobody”.
Despite the quality of the wine, whatever it was, after a few sips the situation began to decrease in size. The sun was getting hotter, but Margo didn’t feel it in the shadow of the canopy with a working fan over her head. She watched occasional yachts and the gardener cutting the bushes around the house on the other side of the canal. She was enjoying the day and wanted to get more wine when there were only a couple of sips left on the bottom, but was too lazy to get up and refill the glass. She closed her eyes, thinking of ways she could turn this situation in her favor. She had never had so many things in her life going at the same time. First, of course, there was Michael. He still was number one on her new life list. Tristan was just a supplement, or better yet he was an instrument that could help her with Michael in the future. Yesterday she added a new item to the list—Mason. Mason, with his passion for wine and his luxurious house. Now she also had to think about Daisy, because she talked with her mother and the cops about her and it was time to correct some of her planning. She didn’t enjoy it. Yesterday Michael became an obstacle and Margo didn’t like obstacles. Any obstacles had to be removed immediately. How would she remove Michael and not bring suspicion? Tristan couldn’t help her anymore. Should she just divorce him and kick him out of the house? But then all this time spent on him would be wasted. He agreed to buy a life insurance policy, but did he buy it? In what amount? Maybe she should kick him out of the house and marry Mason. It could be easier, faster, and safer. She didn’t even have to kill Mason because he could die from natural causes any day. Maybe the cosmos sent Mason to her when she made such a mistake with Michael. Michael was a mistake, she had to admit it. Mason was a great substitute from above.
“It’s pretty stupid though,” Margo muttered.
“What exactly?”
Margo almost screamed, dropped her glass and it crashed at her feet. Margo had to blink several times to make her vision clear and see Tristan in front of her.
He stood with his legs apart, arms crossed on his chest.
“How did you get in?” Margo asked, but then she thought about it, looked around. Of course he just went through the back. Anyone could do that. You just flip the hook from the inside of the wooden gate and walk right in like no one’s business. He kept his motorcycle here while having sex with her. Where did he leave it now? She hoped it was not right in front of the house for everyone to see. He was an idiot, just like his girlfriend.
“I knocked at the front door, you didn’t open, and I figured you were here. Where else? You don’t work.”
Margo looked at the fragments of the glass, regretting once again that Daisy wasn’t around, and got up from her chair.
“Go away,’" she said, heading for the house.
Tristan grabbed her hand and Margo immediately pulled it away.
“So, you just told me to go, and I should go?” he asked.
The expression on Tristan’s face made Margo stop. If he got rid of Daisy, who knew what else he could do?
“Listen,” Tristan said, “I was at work all day when Daisy disappeared. Except for the morning. She was here in the morning and called her mother when you fired her, she spoke to her. I have an alibi for the time when she disappeared.”
“That’s good,” Margo said.
“Good? You don’t think I could have done anything to her, do you? I didn’t even think anything bad. I just wanted to talk to her.”
“I understand.”
Another yacht passed by and Margo waved back in response to a wave from a couple of elderly sailors. Wave to them and they would forget, don’t answer, and they would remember.
“What’s happening?” Tristan asked, approaching Margo. She took a couple of steps back, looking at her bare feet and the floor to avoid stepping on the glass.
“Listen,” she said, sighing heavily. “I thought about us a lot after talking to Daisy. I don’t know what happened to her and I’m not interested, to be honest, but I realized how wrong I was.”
Tristan winced as if Margo suddenly spoke in a foreign language.
“You have to understand,” Margo continued, “how much we hurt this innocent girl. She is kind and naive, she trusted us.”
Tristan looked even more confused. He wasn’t sure that Margo spoke his language, but he also wasn’t sure he heard her at all.
That didn’t stop Margo.
“Not just Daisy. My husband. I can’t believe what I did to him. A minute of weakness could destroy my marriage.”
Now Tristan looked like he had been hit with a hammer.
“You wanted to kill him!” he shouted.
Margo looked back at him in horror.
“I’ve never, ever told you that!”
“Not directly, but that was what you wanted. You wanted to waste him and take his money.”
“You are crazy!” Margo was outraged. “How can you ... How can you ... I can’t believe you!”
“Is there a hidden camera somewhere or something?” Tristan turned around.
“Stop it,” Margo said. She hoped there wasn’t a camera anywhere.
“Are you kidding?” Tristan couldn’t believe what was happening. He wiped sweat from his forehead then rubbed his hand on his shorts. Margo looked at his tanned legs, at the tattoo of a cross on one of his ankles. “Just like that, that’s it?”<
br />
“You’d better leave. My husband should be here any minute.”
“You hate him!” Tristan yelled. “You want to be with me!”
“Does it look like I want to be with you?” Margo asked.
Tristan shook his head in disbelief.
“Look, our relationship was a mistake,” Margo said. “I mean, it was great, fun, but we brought pain to other people. I’m sorry for what happened. Let’s not hold a grudge against each other.”
Margo stood still for a second looking at the expressions of shock on her lover’s face, and headed to the house, hoping that he wouldn’t follow her. She closed the glass door and walked toward the kitchen. She saw Tristan in the big mirror, on the wall facing the terrace. He stood for a minute before leaving.
Margo smiled. She was brilliant. It was worth a celebration with a glass of wine.
Thinking of wine, Margo remembered Mason and dialed his number a minute later. He didn’t answer the first time. Margo changed her clothes to go to a restaurant for lunch. She wasn’t going to cook. She thought about Michael for a moment and where he could be, but only because she remembered how much he had humiliated her yesterday.
Margo dialed Mason’s number when she was in the car. This time he settled down to talk.
“I’m calling to apologize,” Margo said after her initial greeting.
“You did that yesterday,” Mason said dryly.
“Yes, but I still feel bad. The beautiful evening was ruined.”
“No one can control his stomach,” Mason said. His voice didn’t soften.
“I know. Michael screamed at me yesterday. He said it was my fault.”
There was a pause in the receiver for a few seconds just like Margo had calculated. People, especially men, were predictable.
“How could it be your fault?” Mason asked at last.
Margo also allowed herself to be quiet for a few seconds before answering.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It doesn’t matter. He blames me for everything. I’ve gotten used to it.”
“He doesn’t look like a person who would do that kind of thing.”
The garden of dead thoughts Page 13