by Diana Fraser
“Hiding? Yes, I guess you could call it that. Life before Christmas seems a long time ago.”
“It was a month ago.”
“A lot can happen in a month.” She sighed. A lot could change, a lot could come to you, and a lot could be left behind.
He shrugged, as he considered what she’d said. “True. Stock markets can plummet or rise within hours. I can’t let a day go by without checking my investments. There’s always something to be bought or sold.” He rocked back on the heels of his leather-soled shoes. “Can’t leave it to my investment managers. You’ve always got to keep an eye on things yourself. Take oil, for example…”
Ursula let him drone on. She’d stopped listening the moment he’d given that self-satisfied rock back on his heels. She’d known men like him all her life, and she was tired of them, bored with what they talked about, irritated by their smugness, and essentially, repelled by their lack of substance. It was all about money. Nothing else mattered. But it did to her, now.
“Would you like to, Ursula?”
She jerked her head up. “Sorry, what?”
“I was just saying that I’m about to flick off some of my commercial property in Manhattan and I’m looking to reinvest in Miami. Prices are still strong there. I wondered if you’d like to come along for the ride?”
She shrugged, as she briefly wondered how long her attention had strayed for him to move from oil to Miami in such a short time. Probably not long. All he ever talked about was money.
“So, how about it?”
“Er, no, sorry. I’ve no plans to travel to the States anytime soon.”
He grinned. “Then make some.”
Her smile fixed, and she looked around, trying to work out how she could leave him without appearing rude. She caught Ruby’s eye. “No. I won’t be going to the States. I have other plans. I have a lot on with work.” She added, hoping that would stop him.
He shrugged. “Maybe later, then.”
Apparently it took more than a hint to stop the advances of a self-absorbed man.
“Robert!” said Ruby appearing like a guardian angel. Ursula sighed with relief. “How nice to see you again.” They exchanged pecks on the cheek. “Have you been entertaining Ursula?” Ruby grinned at Ursula.
“I’ve just been telling her about how well my property portfolio is doing.”
“Oh, lovely.” Ruby smiled with great charm. “I’m sure she was fascinated. Did she tell you where she’s just been?”
Robert tried to look interested. “No, where?”
“Italy.” She took a sip of her Champagne.
“Oh, I was in Milan recently. Some friends of mine have just bought a villa on Lake Como.” He grimaced. “It’s not the optimum time to buy. Now, if he’d—”
“No,” interrupted Ruby. “Ursula was staying in the country.” She gave Ursula a knowing smile.
“The country?” said Robert. It was all Ursula could do not to laugh. He might as well have been told that she’d gone to the moon for the weekend. “Surely not? You must have been close to a city?”
Ruby pulled a face and shook her head. “The house was miles from its next neighbor, would you believe?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” he said, looking at Ursula in alarm.
“Well, it’s true.”
“Why would you go to the country?” asked Robert. “There’s nothing there.”
“Ursula?” said Ruby, with her butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth expression.
Ursula sighed. “I got lost, and then liked it, and stayed for a while. End of story.”
“Got lost in the country? With nothing but fields and trees, and things.”
“There are people there, too, you know,” Ursula said.
“But what kind of people?” He snorted. “Not our kind, surely.”
“Well, my kind. Not sure if they’re yours or not.”
“If they’re country bumpkins, yokels, simple folk who do the same thing day in, day out, year after year, then true, they’re not my sort. And they don’t sound like yours, either, Ursula.”
“How so?” Ursula knew what he meant, but his comment irked her.
“You know. The kind of people who live in these places, lead very small lives. Stuck in weird, crumbling houses, living in the past, doing the same-old, same-old. God, it would drive you crazy!”
“You mean it would drive you crazy.”
“Same thing.”
“I don’t think so,” she said quietly.
Robert raised his eyebrow as if he suddenly twigged what was happening. “Oh, I see.” He swirled his drink and then looked back up at her. Ruby and Ursula exchanged glances. “You know, it’s purely novelty value. All that”—he waved his hand in the air—“getting back to nature stuff. Sure, it has its appeal. Some of those old farmhouses, given major overhauls, smarten up real nice for country retreats. But that’s all it is, you know, Ursula. A retreat from the real world. There’s nothing there. Nothing happens. Just the same as what’s gone on for centuries.”
“And is that so bad? There’s a lot to be said for tradition, for celebrating with family, for being there for each other in times of need, and in times of happiness.”
“Family?” he scoffed. “How often do you spend time with your family?”
“Not often enough. You’re right. But I aim to correct that.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it.” He laughed again. “I can just picture it! Ursula, slaving over a hot Aga.”
“It has been known,” she replied quietly, remembering the time it had taken to restart the Aga in the morning. The trips to the woodshed, the feeding of the wood chips, one by one into the fire pit, coaxing it into sullen life. What was the point in trying to make someone like Robert understand?
“An Aga?” He shook his head. “You’re mad. This”—Robert waved his glass, indicating the rest of the room—“is your natural habitat. Networking, making deals, connecting with people.”
“Maybe it was, but not anymore.” He hadn’t a clue, and she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, with his money-obsession, with his surety and smugness that his lifestyle was superior to all others. “I’m leaving it behind. I’m—”
Just then her cell phone beeped. If she’d been talking to anyone else, she’d have ignored it. But Ruby had been caught up elsewhere, and she desperately needed an excuse to end the conversation.
“Excuse me.” She pulled her phone from her purse and checked the text. It was from Demetrio. She could have sworn her heart stopped. She glanced up at Robert who was still hovering, watching her. “I, I have to deal with this. Sorry!”
She walked away and then checked her phone once more. She hadn’t heard from Demetrio since her return. She’d tried to phone him to apologize for what had happened at the airport, but she hadn’t been able to leave a message, not when hearing his voice had caught her off-guard, and brought a lump to her throat. She’d got as far as, “It’s Ursula, I’m…” but hadn’t been able to find the words to express what she wanted to say, and had ended the call. She’d thought that maybe he’d phone her back, but he hadn’t returned her call, until now.
She scrolled through the text, but there was only one line.
Do you like surprises?
She paused, frowned, and then began to text with shaking fingers.
Only good ones.
Her heart was pounding as she focused intently on the phone. What was this all about? Why now? Had something happened to Lorenzo again? Had something happened to Nonna, or Demetrio himself? She paced toward an alcove, needing to be away from all of these people, to focus on the one person whose messages she’d imagined—she’d dreamed of—every waking moment since she’d left him. She almost jumped as the text came through and its vibration traveled up her arm.
Turn to the door and text me if it’s a bad one, and the surprise will disappear. If it’s a good one, then…
Ursula turned before she’d finished reading his text and saw Demetrio, standing alone
by the door, still wearing his coat, hair wet from the snow, looking straight at her with an expression in his dark eyes that shot straight to her heart.
Her phone slipped through her fingers and hit the parquet floor with a clatter. She walked swiftly to him, pushing or weaving around groups until she found herself standing in front of him, somehow breathless even though she’d only walked across the room.
She couldn’t speak immediately, just devoured him with her eyes. With his height and dark good looks, he easily fitted into this room of beautiful people. But there was something which set him apart. It could have been the casual way he was dressed—black trench coat that had seen better days, worn jeans and a black sweater underneath. Certainly, none of the people in the room would have seen dead in clothes which were not in pristine condition. But it wasn’t only this which made him stand out. It was his air of indifference, of confidence in himself that drew her like a moth to a flame. She wanted to be warmed by that flame so desperately. She ached to touch him.
“Demetrio.” She reached out to him, to reassure herself that he was real, then stopped herself. “Is it really you?”
His smile was real enough. “It is. Good surprise, or bad?”
She didn’t manage to contain her grin. “Good. Definitely good.” But while her body felt energized just being near him, her mind had turned to mush. “But, what…” The question hung between them. There was so much she wanted to know, and so much she had no right to know, not after what she’d said and done.
“What am I doing here? I’ve come to see you, of course. Why else would I be in Stockholm?”
Her heart pounded, hardly daring to believe he was here to see her. “I don’t know. Business? Scandinavia has some interesting landscape architects. Maybe…”
He shrugged. “I can say that if it’s easier for you to accept.”
She shook her head. How could she hope to protect herself from this man? “It’s just that…”
“You’re afraid.”
She nodded. “And I’m so sorry—about all the things I said.” She paused. “Or didn’t say…”
“Hm. You certainly didn’t leap to my defense, or that of my family, or our way of life. But then, I was hardly very understanding, was I? I didn’t listen to you properly; I didn’t give you enough time to adjust. I was too demanding, and you backed off.”
“And you’re being way too reasonable as well, Demetrio. What I did, and didn’t say, was so wrong of me. I think, in some way, I wanted you to believe the worst of me. I wanted you to see, with your own eyes, why I wouldn’t fit in.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Because you wouldn’t believe me when I told you I didn’t belong in Italy, with you.”
“Right.”
It was all he said, but she could see that there was no change in his eyes. He held her gaze steadily, as if able to see through her defenses, through her self-delusion, to the heart of things.
The room suddenly felt airless. Everyone else, apart from Demetrio, had dissolved into an amorphous background, inconsequential and irrelevant.
Suddenly a tray appeared between them, laden with glasses of Champagne. “Champagne, sir, madam?” asked the waiter.
They both shook their heads, and the waiter moved on.
But the moment had passed and Ursula stepped away abruptly. Why was he here? Really. “And how is Lorenzo? Is he fully recovered?”
“He’s fine. It’s as if nothing had ever happened. He’s bounced back and is now creating havoc for Marianna back home.”
“And your parents?”
“Papa is well. My mother is sad though. She’d hoped you’d return for Twelfth Night and, when you didn’t, she charged me with coming to give you your present myself.”
Ursula swallowed. “Oh.” She couldn’t hide the disappointment. “Nonna sent you here?”
“Yes. She told me what I knew already. She told me that you were afraid and that I had to help you.” He laughed uncomfortably. “I don’t know what makes old women so damned wise.”
“Maybe the fact that they’re old… and they’re women,” she added with a smile.
“True.” He smiled, and it lit up his face. She felt it wriggle its way deep inside her, warming her as nothing else could. “And that’s fine, that you’re afraid. It just means that other people have to be less afraid.”
“Other people?”
“Me, of course, I mean me. If you’re afraid, then I have to have the courage for both of us if we’re to move forward.”
He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. Then he studied it as if it were the most interesting thing he’d ever seen and dropped a kiss on her palm. Then he folded it tightly within his. It was all she could do to concentrate on what he was saying, as she struggled to contain her response to his lips on her hands.
“To move forward?” she repeated.
“Otherwise, I fear, if I left it to you, we’d both continue to live in fear, in the past, unable to move forward, unable to break through that safety net we’ve both woven around ourselves.”
That caught her attention. “You, afraid? I don’t believe you’re afraid of anything.”
“Then you’d be wrong. I’m afraid of change. I’d keep everything the way it is, now, and forever, if I could—with my land, and my family. But I can’t. My parents won’t live forever. Things are always changing, whether I like them to or not. You made me realize that.”
At that moment Ruby and a frowning Robert came up to them. “Demetrio!” Ruby kissed him on both cheeks. “What a lovely surprise.” She looked from Ursula whose cheeks burned, back to Demetrio. “And what brings you here?”
Was it Ursula’s imagination or had news that the ice queen, Ursula Adamsson, was holding hands with a strange Italian, spread through the whole room? People had begun wandering toward them.
“Sweden is beautiful, Ruby. But it’s Ursula who brings me here, of course.”
His words were heard by about a dozen people who now pressed around them. Ursula was aware of their mutterings, the repetition of her name, but had no idea what they were saying. All she could focus on was Demetrio.
Ruby was the only one who seemed to have her wits about her. Ursula looked at her with pleading eyes, and Ruby responded. “Absolutely understandable, of course, Demetrio. I’m here because of Ursula too.”
“She’s a popular person.”
Ursula opened her mouth but couldn’t find any words.
Ruby grinned. “A very popular person, even when she has nothing to say.”
Ursula cleared her throat. “Demetrio is here because his mother asked him to bring me something.”
“Interesting,” Ruby said, looking from one to the other, a smile playing on her lips. “Just as well you’ve come now, Demetrio, because tomorrow you’d have missed her.”
Demetrio turned with a stunned expression to Ursula, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re leaving? But you’ve only just arrived.”
“That’s what I said to her.” Robert moved forward to shake Demetrio’s hand. “It’s work, work, work, with Ursula. I told her to let it wait until the holiday season is over. But she reckons this is too important.”
“Work…” Demetrio repeated faintly. Then he shook his head as if shaking off a dream. “You’re leaving for work reasons.”
“Yes, work. But—”
“But, nothing!” Robert said. “You work too damn hard, Ursula. She won’t even come to the States with me!”
Demetrio’s expression changed instantly. He took a step toward Robert, and Ursula gave a little cry as Ruby, who must also have seen the effect of Robert’s words on Demetrio, stepped between him and Robert.
Ruby smiled. “Robert won’t give up hope, despite Ursula’s constant rejections.” They turned to Robert who looked stunned by this news and Demetrio’s stance relaxed a little. “Demetrio, you should ask Ursula about her new job. She’s quite passionate about it, you know.”
“You didn�
�t mention you’ve got a new job, Ursula,” said Robert, who didn’t appear to notice that he’d been soundly defeated in the previous conversation.
“A new job?” asked Demetrio. “Oh.” He looked uncertainly at the exit as if wondering how he could make his escape. He glanced at her with a small smile that was as brief as it was slight. “So, you’re starting something new. That’s good.”
“Yes, I needed to do something. After Christmas, so…”
“Demetrio!” Some acquaintance of Demetrio’s pushed through the thickening crowd and extended his hand to his. “Good to see you, again. We met at the design conference in Milan last year. What brings you to Stockholm?”
If Demetrio remembered the man, or even heard the question, he showed no sign. He didn’t take his eyes off Ursula, and his expression cut her to the quick. There was a pain there which she felt in her own body. She fisted her free hand, rubbing her knuckles with her fingers to try to take away the pain. It didn’t work, and she knew the only thing that would work, would be to take away the pain from those beautiful chestnut brown eyes.
She wanted to hold his head firmly in her hands, and kiss him. But before she could make a move, Demetrio’s acquaintance pushed through and thrust his hand in front of Demetrio. Demetrio ignored it again. But the man wasn’t going to be put off easily. “What brings you to Stockholm, Demetrio?” he repeated.
“Why am I here?” He shrugged and looked down at Ursula’s hand that he still held in his. He pressed his lips together regretfully and dropped her hand and took a step away. “I’m not sure.”
“Demetrio!” Ursula reached out for his hand and grabbed it tightly. As she tried to mold the chaos of words and thoughts and feelings which spun around her mind, into some tidy semblance of meaning, she watched Demetrio’s expression change. His lips curved slowly into a smile that lit his eyes. She might have been tongue-tied at that moment, unable to express everything that fought to be expressed, but it seemed he understood anyway.