He pushed his sunglasses up, as if to check his eyes were working correctly. Behind the pool was a gently sloping lawn; behind that, a low tangle of scrub, then dazzling white sand and beyond that, the sea.
‘It’s an amazing party,’ he said, sighing at the view and accepting a glass of champagne.
‘Well, we invite everyone at the start of summer so that they’ll come and spend at the fund-raisers we host over the season,’ she whispered playfully. ‘Come on. Let me introduce you to a few people. And don’t believe anyone who says they bought in the Hamptons before the area was fashionable.’
Jim found himself enjoying the party more than he’d thought he would. He met Chesters, Millies and Jensens; there was even a red-faced woman named Muffy. They were all wealthy, smug and patronising, but they were also masters of small talk, which allowed him to settle back and soak it all in.
‘You’re in property, Jim?’ said a tall, thin man called Cooper. ‘Very wise in this day and age. Where’s the up-and-coming area at the moment?’
‘Jamaica,’ said Jim, sensing a chance for some mischief.
‘The Caribbean?’
‘No, Jamaica, Queens. The pocket right around the AirTrain,’ he added, ignoring Sarah’s look. ‘If you have any spare cash, I’d snap up anything you can lay your hands on. It’s solid pre-war stock, near the airport, and the hipsters are moving in. And where the hipsters go . . . Look at Brooklyn. Can’t buy a fourth-floor walk-up for less than a mil in Williamsburg any more.’
Cooper nodded sagely and conversation moved on to the rising costs of running a car in the city. Sarah raised a laugh by suggesting they all chip in for a minivan and take it in turns to pop to Whole Foods. Eventually she and Jim detached themselves and drifted down towards the pool.
‘You know Cooper will be ordering his realtor to buy some crack house in Queens by Monday,’ said Sarah, settling into a big egg-shaped love seat. ‘But I don’t know any hipsters moving into Sutphin Boulevard.’
‘I was yanking his chain a little, but if you’re prepared to take a punt, it’s not a bad call – assuming you can afford to wait for the upswing. Manhattan’s not getting any bigger, people are going to move out, especially people with young families.’
Sarah sat swishing her feet back and forth.
‘And what about you?’ she said. ‘You have any plans to move out and have a family?’
He cut his eyes across at her. Was this a variation on Melissa’s babies and wedding bells speech?
‘Sarah, I’ve only just moved to the city . . .’
She looked at him. ‘But Jim, I need to know that you’re serious about us.’
Her face was stony, then a twinkle appeared in her eyes, then she laughed her Sid James laugh.
‘You’re a devil in the sack, but don’t flatter yourself that you’re husband material. You’ve got the big four-oh coming up; isn’t it about time you bought a Harley?’
‘Isn’t thirty-nine a bit young for a mid-life crisis?’
‘Our executive editor, Ryan? One Friday lunchtime, he went out and got a tattoo of a shark. We all laughed, until the following Monday when he didn’t turn up for work. We got a postcard from him a month later saying he’d moved to the Cayman Islands and was working as a diving instructor.’
‘That’s a classic.’
‘Yeah, but Ryan was thirty-six and had a wife and two-year-old daughter. Don’t know if they got a postcard too.’
Jim laughed. ‘I’m not sure thirty-six counts as middle age,’ he said pointedly.
‘Should we go for a nosy around this place?’ said Sarah, standing up. ‘I thought I saw Karlie Kloss by the buffet. Besides, I want to take a picture of the lobster thermidor for Instagram.’
As Sarah picked up her shoes, Jim felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned, but too fast, slipping in Sarah’s wet footprints. A voice he immediately recognised spoke, a hand gripping his elbow, steadying him.
‘Don’t want anyone drowning, do we?’
Embarrassed, Jim straightened and forced a smile.
‘Thanks, Connor,’ he said. ‘Not quite the way I imagined making my entrance.’
Connor Gilbert laughed. His hair was streaked with grey, he had deep lines across his forehead, but there was no mistaking him. Whereas most of his contemporaries had filled out a little since their twenties, Connor’s lineback physique had become leaner.
‘You look great,’ said Jim honestly, extending his hand and immediately regretting it: Connor Gilbert was one of those people who felt the need to crush your knuckle bones by way of a greeting.
‘Yoga and vitamins,’ Connor said off-handedly. ‘Been a long time, Jimmy,’ he added, slightly too loudly. ‘You haven’t changed a bit.’
Jim wasn’t sure he meant it as a compliment.
‘This is Sarah . . .’ he began, then suddenly remembered they were already acquainted.
‘I know this little lady,’ said Connor, reaching over to give Sarah an awkward hug. Jim knew she wouldn’t exactly be overjoyed to be referred to as a ‘little lady’, either.
‘So how’s things?’ he said. ‘Jennifer says you’re working for Simon Desai. I hear his finances ain’t what they were.’
Jim felt his anger rising.
‘Really? Well don’t believe all you hear, Connor.’
‘I thought you were going to be a rock star?’
‘Teenage kicks,’ he answered, although the music reference was lost on Connor.
Connor turned to Sarah. ‘Could you excuse us for a few moments?’ he said, indicating that she was no longer welcome.
When she had gone, they were both silent for a few seconds.
‘So how did it feel then, Johnson? Did it give you all the satisfaction you thought it would?’
‘I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Connor,’ said Jim, not moving his gaze from the other man’s.
‘Buying Casa D’Or. A master class in petty point-scoring if ever I saw one.’
‘No,’ said Jim emphatically. ‘It wasn’t a point score. We were looking for a house in the South. We looked at Casa D’Or. I happen to think it needed saving.’
‘Needed saving!’ scoffed Connor. ‘Is that how you’re justifying it to yourself when you’re trying to sleep at night? You leave Savannah under a cloud. You come back and rub salt into the wound after everything that happened. Sylvia Wyatt died in that house, Jim, and you write to Jennifer asking for permission to turn it into a pleasure palace. If that’s not the most fucking immoral and insensitive thing I have heard in the property business, I don’t know what is.’
Jim felt angered that Connor had taken the moral high ground. He felt sure that men like Connor didn’t get to be as rich or successful as he had without making some ruthless decisions. The truth was, though, he knew the other man had a point.
‘I know you’re here in the city now, Johnson, I know you’ve even seen Jen once or twice.’ Connor put his glass of champagne down on a table and looked Jim directly in the eye. ‘But if you mention that house to her, if you mention the family name in any of the marketing material, if you bring her anywhere near that place, involve her in any way, then I will do everything I can in my power to make things difficult in Savannah. Do you understand?’
‘You don’t need to threaten me, Connor,’ said Jim coolly. ‘I’ve only ever had Jen’s best interests at heart.’
‘Really? You’ve got no idea what Jennifer’s best interests are,’ Connor said coldly. ‘You did your best to sabotage our relationship, pit Jennifer against her family. And when she fell apart after what happened, where were you to pick up the pieces?’
I was sent away, thought Jim, clenching his hand into a fist.
Just go back to England, Jim. If you are truly my friend, you should do what is right for all of us and not contact me again.
Connor shook his head, glaring at Jim. Then, with a snort of disgust, he turned and stalked back towards the house.
‘Shit,’ whispered Jim under his breath. He fe
lt the same way he used to after trying to lock horns with his father as a young man: like he’d just been run over.
He looked around for Sarah, but she was locked in conversation with a supermodel. He didn’t feel she would welcome an interruption, not when she was probably trying to secure an interview or a story for Whizzfeed.
He picked up the glass of champagne that Connor had left behind and knocked the dregs down his throat. Then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and left the pool area through a side gate that led to the beach, letting the party noise fade behind him.
The light had fallen out of the sky and the horizon was streaked peach and violet. As he got closer to the water, he could hear the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.
A sobering thought hit him. No matter what he felt about Connor – and right from the start he had never liked him – there was no denying that he loved Jennifer. And for that, he felt like a cuckoo in the nest just being here.
He kicked at a stone with his toe, then bent to pick it up. Flat and round, it felt good in his hand. Whipping his arm sideways, he threw the pebble, spinning it with his index finger, watching with satisfaction as it hopped once, twice . . . four . . . no, five times across the water before disappearing with a plop.
‘You tried to teach me to do that, do you remember?’ said a voice behind him.
He turned around and saw Jennifer standing there, holding a glass.
‘I never could get it, though, could I?’
Jim took a step towards her. The sea roared on to the beach and sucked a raft of pebbles out to its depths
‘What are you doing out here?’ he said finally.
‘Coming to bring you in.’
‘Don’t be daft, I’m just getting some air.’
‘So how rude was Connor to you?’ she asked, searching around for words.
He frowned.
‘You were talking. Heatedly . . .’
‘We were just chatting.’ He shrugged.
‘That’s what Connor said.’ She looked at him dubiously. ‘But I know him better than that.’
Jennifer’s soft face smiled at him. He remembered the first time they had been alone together, in the dark, by the water, the first night he had gone to Casa D’Or. He’d been dazzled by her. She was pretty – beautiful, even – but in the short time he had been at that supper party, he’d guessed at her many beguiling layers. Jennifer Wyatt was at once the lost girl, the rich girl, the tomboy and the swan. She had spent her whole life doing what other people had told her, and yet with a quiet sense of will she was determined to strike out on her own.
‘He doesn’t think I should be developing Casa D’Or,’ said Jim, knowing he couldn’t hide things from her. ‘Is that what you think?’
‘It’s too late to object now.’ She smiled slowly. ‘I got an email from Marion. She said they’re already recruiting for staff to start at Thanksgiving.’
‘It was never my intention to hurt you, Jen.’
‘I know that. I always have. Despite everything, I love Casa D’Or. I don’t want it to become a mausoleum, and I know you’ll breathe life back into the place. I think it deserves that.’
‘Well, I’m sorry,’ he replied.
‘I’m sorry too. Connor . . . he’s going through some things at the moment.’
He knew it was his opportunity to bring it up.
‘Work?’
She puffed out her cheeks, then looked away.
‘Nothing. Just his latest condo development is more complicated than he thought.’
Jim nodded. It was the big risk in any development project: the time it took and how long you could afford to keep going. Buildings had a way of throwing you endless curveballs: foundations built on unseen mining work, attics that had become home to protected creatures that couldn’t be moved. Ancient masonry, subsidence, termites – there were hundreds of variables that could hold up a build, and that was before you got to the legal problems of ownership, planning consent and any number of local protests that could bubble up. It was always about how soon you could deliver. The longer it took, the more it cost.
‘How complicated?’
She didn’t speak.
‘Jen, tell me. I might be able to help.’
‘He’d like that.’ She smiled grimly. ‘Besides, I’m sure he’ll work it out.’
He took a step towards her.
‘Jen, I know people. I might be able to point him towards someone, maybe pull in a favour.’
‘No,’ she said, shaking her head.
‘Too proud?’
‘Not me. Connor.’
‘Besides, I’d be the last person he’d take help from, right?’
‘Your words, not mine,’ she smiled.
She looked at him for a long moment, then threw back the last of her drink.
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s get back to the party.’
Jim shook his head. ‘I think it’d be better if Sarah and I pushed off.’
‘Pushed off? You’ve both had a drink, it’s two hours back to the city. You’re staying over as planned, and that’s the last I’ll hear of it. If you leave, it will only make things more awkward. Besides, I don’t go to the trouble of matchmaking if I can’t enjoy watching the results.’
Jim grinned awkwardly.
‘How’s it going?’ she said after a moment. Her words came out quite stiffly, but Jim tried not to read too much into it.
‘With Sarah? She’s nice. You were right.’
‘Only nice?’
He wasn’t sure if she was teasing him. He didn’t smile back.
‘She’s fun,’ he said finally, deciding that sounded the best balance of being complimentary and yet non-committal. Besides, it was entirely honest.
‘Oh yes?’
‘A gentleman never tells,’ he said, holding up his hands.
‘You’re no fun.’ She grinned slowly, swinging her arms by her sides.
‘Let’s just say I can’t decide if the age gap keeps me young or makes me feel very old,’ he said, finally letting his guard down. ‘I told her the first gig I’d ever been to was the Nelson Mandela tribute at Wembley. She said she was there too; the only difference was she was in utero.’
In his line of vision he could see Sarah walking towards them, coltish legs in tailored shorts striding across the sand. He felt guilty about the quip he had just made, and turned his attention back to Jennifer.
‘I like her. Thank you,’ he said as his girlfriend got closer. ‘I forgot how lonely New York can be. So it’s good to have someone around. And I always knew you had impeccable taste in everything.’
‘I wondered where you’d got to,’ said Sarah, her eyes darting between Jim and Jennifer. ‘Is everything OK?’
‘Connor was just being Connor,’ said Jennifer.
She diplomatically stepped back and let Sarah stand between them. The younger woman’s broad smile was a little tighter than usual. As she took her spot, she folded her arms protectively across her chest.
‘I was just stopping Jim from fleeing, because you two are staying here tonight. Best room in the house, although if there’s any more bad behaviour from Connor, we’ll be in separate bedrooms.’
Sarah’s look of fear softened to something more reassured, and Jim took her hand.
‘Now come on,’ said Jennifer. ‘Cooper has been telling me all about a zingy new property hot spot you put him on to, and I want in.’
Jim laughed and followed her back across the sand.
Chapter Fifteen
Gently Jim lifted Sarah’s arm and slid out of bed, tiptoeing across the floor to the bathroom. Closing the door, he ran water into his hands and splashed it on his face. He looked rough, his complexion pallid.
The rest of the evening had actually been surprisingly fun. Once he’d loosened up, Cooper had shown he had a nice line in anecdotes about the celebrities who dined in the Japanese restaurant he owned downtown. Jim had also found himself in demand as a dance partner once the
cheesy disco began on the terrace – one of the pampered wives declaring, ‘It’s like dancing with Mr Darcy.’ Clearly one handsome Englishman was as good as any other after a few appletinis, but at least it allowed Jim to relax a little. He was still angry about his confrontation with Connor by the swimming pool; in the sober light of day, and taking his own guilt out of the equation, he knew that Connor had been spoiling for a fight for the past twenty years and was using the Omari development of Casa D’Or as a rod to beat him with. And with good reason. After all, as far as he was concerned, Jim had tried to pinch his girlfriend off him. Jim and Jennifer had fallen in love, but Connor was never going to see it like that.
Stretching, Jim left the en suite and returned to the bedroom. Sarah had rolled over and kicked off the sheet in her semi-slumber and now lay temptingly naked. Part of him wanted to slide back in next to her and wake her up, but he knew where that would lead. Last night he had avoided sex by blaming his reluctance on the heavy consumption of alcohol; this morning there would be no excuses, but he felt uncomfortable about doing anything so intimate in Jennifer’s house, even if they were in a distant wing.
He stepped outside, squinting at the brightness. Nothing better for a hangover than a blinding flash of sun. Slowly his eyes adjusted to the glare and he leaned on the rail, taking in the view. It was even more impressive from the second floor. From here you could see the whole sweep of the beach, and apart from a small group of gulls picking at the sand, it was deserted. Then he saw movement in the water; not quite deserted, then. Someone was on a paddleboard, heading back towards the beach.
Jim watched as the figure paddled closer, turning from a silhouette to a man in a wetsuit to a recognisable person. It was Connor; there was no mistaking his height. Plus who else would be out on a private beach at six in the morning?
As quietly as he could, he scooped up his jeans and a T-shirt from his overnight bag, put them on, and headed for the door. For himself, Jim would rather never speak to the man again, but for Jennifer’s sake he knew he had to try to make peace with Connor – and there was never going to be a better time than now, when he was on his own.
The House on Sunset Lake Page 13