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‘Excuse me, Mr Johnson, you have a visitor.’
Jim was having a final inspection of the spa, which had been created in the style of a boathouse on the far reaches of the property. He was wondering whether to ask to actually try out a massage himself – his back seemed to be a series of knots these days – when Liane, one of the receptionists, came to find him.
‘Who is it?’ he frowned, glancing at his phone, where all his appointments and calls for the day had been logged. He had nothing scheduled for that moment.
‘Says her name is Marion Wyatt.’
‘Oh,’ said Jim more brightly. ‘She used to own this place. Bring her to the terrace and send over a couple of glasses of sweet tea.’
He wrapped up his conversation with the spa manager, and by the time he got back to the house, Marion was waiting for him at one of the white wrought-iron tables under the shade of a linen parasol.
‘Hello, Marion,’ he said, kissing her warmly on both cheeks.
‘How are you, Jim?’ she said, squeezing his hand. ‘I was so sorry to hear about Bryn.’
Jim sat down and nodded at the reminder of his father’s death. He had been trying so hard to shut it out, but whenever someone mentioned it, or whenever he stopped working and caught his breath, he was knocked sideways by a wave of grief and emptiness.
‘Thank you. I guess you know what it feels like,’ he said quietly, remembering David Wyatt’s passing.
Marion nodded. ‘I don’t think it ever goes away. Every hour of every day I still stop and feel displaced, and for a split second I don’t even know why something feels so wrong, until I realise it’s because David isn’t ever coming back.’
She looked around the grounds and smiled sadly.
‘They’d have adored what you’ve done with this place. Both of them.’
‘My father loved it here,’ said Jim honestly. ‘It’s why he enjoyed working in the boathouse. The whole view of Casa D’Or was so inspiring, and I guess you only see how amazing it is from the other side of the water. Like looking at the Manhattan skyline from Queens.’
‘Maybe you should have bought the Sittenfields’ place,’ smiled Marion.
‘Maybe,’ he said, wondering if that would actually have made life simpler. Had he bought the Lake House rather than Casa D’Or, he might never have met up with Jennifer and his father might still be alive . . . but he didn’t want to torture himself with that now.
‘How’s your mother?’
‘As well as can be expected. She’s coming to the launch, actually. I’m about to go and pick her up from the airport. I think it will do her good to get out of London.’
‘Well, I just wanted to come and see what you’ve done with the place. I’ve heard so many rumours about how fabulous it is, and they’ve not been wrong.’
‘You’re not coming to the launch party tomorrow?’ he asked with disappointment.
‘Perhaps,’ she said in a tone of voice that suggested she would not. Jim didn’t want to push it. He’d had the same dilemma with his mother. He knew that a week in the sunshine would do her good, but there were so many memories attached to the grand old house that he was still worried how she would react.
‘At least let me show you around,’ he offered.
Marion didn’t reply.
‘You’ve changed the name,’ she said eventually.
‘Yes. The Plantation House,’ said Jim awkwardly. ‘Casa D’Or was your name, the family house name. I’m just glad you had faith in me to do it justice.’
She fell silent again, and when he looked over at her, she had dropped her head and was staring at her glass.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked after a moment. He was conscious of the heat of the afternoon and wondered if she wasn’t suffering from a touch of sunstroke.
‘I’m afraid I’ve not been entirely honest with you,’ she said finally.
Jim pressed his lips together. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what he heard next.
Marion looked away as if she had regretted starting to tell him.
