by Wendy Tyson
“What does Douglas do for Sam?”
Shirin waved her hand. “Business stuff. He’s a member of the board for Sam’s foundation.” Shirin’s gaze traveled to her husband, Douglas. He was sitting quietly beside Jason who was still deep in conversation with the lovely Lara. Douglas was staring down a glass of Scotch and watching his wife watch him. He seemed angry.
“I see your husband is as taken with Lara as most men seem to be,” Shirin said. She put her fork down on her plate, touched a white linen napkin to her lips, and smiled. It was a snake’s smile, and Allison felt no true female empathy.
“Jason’s my fiancé. He’s used to talking to people.”
“Uh-huh.”
Changing the subject, Allison said, “I didn’t realize Sam Norton was such a philanthropist.” She recalled the media’s portrayal of the eccentric rock star as being a womanizer in his youth, an avid gun enthusiast, a sometimes politician, and, lately, a hermit. But not a man given to charitable causes.
Shirin pursed her lips. “He’s a bloody bore, that’s what he is.” Catching her husband’s gaze, she lowered her voice. “I stay out of Douglas’s business, to be quite honest. It puts me to sleep.” She brightened. “I hear you know Delvar, the designer.”
“I do.”
“I design handbags.”
Allison nodded.
“Perhaps you’ll put in a good word for me when you’re back in the States.” She squinted. “You are going back to the States, yes?”
“Eventually.”
Shirin sat back. A shadow passed across her features. She shrugged her slim, bare shoulders. “You never know. I’ve been to this castle before. It’s rather like the song ‘Hotel California.’ Some who come never leave.”
SIX
Allison waited until Grace was asleep before approaching Jason. The night air was nippy, such a difference from the sticky summer heat of Philadelphia. Someone had turned down the sheets in their small cottage, and the lights in the living area and on the back patio had been flipped on. Allison and Jason walked in to find a bottle of chilled Pinot Grigio and a small plate of fruit, cheese, and dark chocolate sitting on the table along with a note. It asked that Allison move the appointment with Elle to noon tomorrow. It appeared the hostess had a migraine.
“A migraine?” Jason smirked. He’d kissed Grace goodnight in her small bedroom before joining Allison on the patio. He helped himself to a glass of wine, pouring the liquid slowly into a crystal goblet. “Is that what they call it in Italy?”
Allison didn’t respond. Jason should talk. He seemed calm and chatty and slightly buzzed—more spirited than he’d been in weeks. She wished she could attribute even a part of that to their upcoming nuptials. She knew a certain supermodel was the more likely cause.
“What a great evening.” Jason broke off a piece of dark chocolate and put it into his mouth. “Did you get to talk to Elle?”
“Not really.”
“Grace had fun with that nurse. What’s her name?”
“Hilda,” Allison said flatly.
“You’re awfully quiet tonight. What’s going on?”
Allison almost said “nothing,” a holdover from their pre-divorce days. She forced herself to be candid. After all, where had the silent treatment landed them last time?
She said, “You seemed quite taken with Lara.”
Jason titled his head. He had an honest face—all-American good looks wrapped up with sharp intelligence and a well-honed body. Allison could see his appeal, even to a younger woman. A famous younger woman.
“Lara sat next to me.”
“So did Douglas Alden.”
“Who?”
“Exactly.”
Jason grinned. “Allison Campbell, I do believe you’re jealous.”
“Am not.” But she was. And she hated feeling jealous and needy. She wanted to crawl right out of her skin. Or smack him.
He put his glass down, stood up, and knelt in front of Allison. “It so happens that Lara is the niece of the CEO of the company I’ll be working for.”
Allison looked at him, surprised. “Really?”
“Really. She was giving me ins and outs of the business. Who to watch out for, who had the power.” He shrugged. “Captivating intel.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t more about the delivery?” Or the messenger.
Jason’s mood turned somber. He leaned in and gently took Allison’s lower lip between his teeth. Then he kissed her. She felt herself giving in, kissing back.
He stood, took her hand. “There are only two ladies in my life.”
“Two?”
“Well maybe three.” He nodded toward the cottage with his head. “That little girl inside.” He kissed Allison again. “My mother. And you, the love of my life.”
Allison felt a little of the burden release from her shoulders. She closed her eyes and opened them, focusing on the warmth of the cottage and the cool air caressing her skin. Jason pulled down one dress strap, then the other. He kissed her shoulder, the top of a breast. Allison moaned softly.
It’d been a while since they’d had sex just to have sex, and the intimacy felt good. Jason kissed her, took her hand. He tugged her closer, but it was Allison who led him to bed.
It was exactly noon when Karina and the nurse, Hilda, visited the cottage. The pair were a study in contrasts. Karina looked even lovelier by the light of day—a flaxen-haired fairy tale heroine come to life—and Hilda even more gaunt and hunched. Karina was still wearing traditional Austrian dress, though she paired the fitted bodice and skirt with a pair of well-worn Tevas. Hilda wore white pants and a conservative white Polo shirt. A thin white cardigan was draped over her bowed shoulders despite the ninety-degree temperature.
“Hilda is here for Grace,” Karina said. “Elle thought perhaps your niece would enjoy some time down at the pool.”
Jason glanced up and said over the document he was reading, “I was planning to take her down. Then I thought we’d go for a walk along the trail.”
“Hilda can join you then,” Karina said. “She knows her way around the castle. This way she can get to know Grace while you’re here.”
Jason shrugged. “If she wants.”
“It might be a good idea,” Allison said. “That will make Grace more comfortable. And I know she’s been chomping to get to the pool.”
Hilda took that as her cue. She held her hand out to Grace, who grabbed at the frail fingers eagerly. “We’ll be outside on the veranda,” Hilda said. “We’ll wait for you there.”
“You can come with me,” Karina said to Allison. “Elle is ready for you. Bring your computer and your mobile and whatever else you need. You may be a while.”
They met in the study. At least, that’s what Karina called it. To Allison, the massive room in the bowels of the castle resembled a dank chamber, somewhere you interrogated suspected infidels, not a spot that sparked intimate conversation. Nonetheless, it had been outfitted with a massive table and chairs and a sitting area defined by three white embroidered couches and a black and white checked arm chair. The ceilings, like elsewhere in the castle, were high, but because this room was on a lower level, the air felt damp and smelled faintly of mildew.
Elle was sitting on one of the couches, smoking a cigarette. She caught Allison looking at the cigarette and moved her hand back, toward the hem of her gray and yellow sundress.
“You’re late,” she said to Karina between puffs.
“My apologies.”
“Well, you can go now.”
Again, a look passed between them. Karina said, “Allison’s family is expecting her down by the pool at three.”
Allison shot her a questioning look. They weren’t expecting her at any specific time.
Ignoring Allison, Karina said to Elle, “So I will be by at three to get her.”
“Unless we are finished earlier,” Elle said. “In which case, I’ll walk her down myself.”
“Fine.” With a fleeting glance at Allison, Karina turned on her heels and left.
“Don’t mind her,” Elle said. “She swallows nails for breakfast.”
“She seems all right.”
“Daddy hired her to look after me. But he has a thing for blondes.” She took a drag on her cigarette. Brandishing it, holding the smoke in her lungs, she added, “So who did he really hire her for?
“She’s your personal assistant, right?”
Elle shrugged. She blew smoke in concentric circles and then waved them away with her hand. Fuchsia bangles hung from a skinny wrist. She pulled the bracelets off with a huff and tossed them on the couch. “How do we start this?”
Allison sat down on the couch across from Elle and pulled out a red leather-bound notebook. She explained the basics of how she typically worked: intake, followed by a menu of services directed at addressing the issues and goals, and a personal plan for tackling them developed through intake.
“Because I don’t have my experts here, we’ll have to improvise. Use local experts, or perhaps bring in people you like.”
“What kind of experts?”
“Depends on what your goals are.”
“Give me examples.” She’d put out her cigarette and had moved on to biting her nails. The skin around her thumb started to bleed. She dabbed at it with a crumpled napkin she pulled from the pocket of her dress. “Like makeup artists?”
“Could be. Could also be a nutritionist or an acting or voice coach.” Or a grief counselor, Allison thought, but decided that option would best be introduced later. “I can help you with the basics, but for specialty areas, we may want a specialist. But first we need to decide what we need to tackle. Then we set a plan.” Allison smiled. “Make sense?”
“I guess.”
“You don’t seem convinced. What part of that bothers you?”
“It’s fine.”
“It doesn’t sound like you think it’s fine. For this to work, we need to be a team. We need honesty and candor.”
“Sure. Okay.”
Frustrated, Allison said, “Why did you want me to come here?”
Allison let silence hang between them. It was Elle who spoke first. “My family, I guess.”
“Your family?”
“I thought I was an only child. Imagine my surprise when Michael came into my life.”
“Michael is the brother I met last night.”
“Half-brother. My life was never easy, despite what the media may insinuate.” Elle snorted. “Have you met my father? No, of course you haven’t.” She laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “He’s not the man he used to be.”
“Meaning?”
“Too many years indulging his vices? Checked out of the universe? Dementia? The onset of Alzheimer’s? Everyone seems to have a different opinion on what’s ailing him, but the bottom line is that he’s not wholly there.”
“But he is living here, at the castle?” Allison asked, remembering the conversation with Mazy Coyne the night before.
Elle nodded. “Been here a while. I think he wanted to see Damien more than anything. My father and Damien are close.” She closed her eyes. “Were close.”
“I’m sorry. About your husband.”
“Not as sorry as I am.” Elle pulled her mouth into a resolute line. “I never would have called you had it not been for Damien’s passing. I know everyone thought I married him for his money, but that’s not true. He had no money. I loved him. He was my only real love. Without him…” Elle stiffened. “It happened out there.” She gestured in the direction of the forest. “He was an expert hiker. Knew this landscape like he knew the curve of my ass. Somehow he slipped.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I can’t go out there anymore. Not since he and Bits—”
“Bits?”
“My dog. She died too.” Elle inhaled sharply. “I lost them both the same day.”
“She fell?”
“Yes.”
That seemed odd to Allison. Even if Damien had been walking the dog, wouldn’t he have let go when he felt himself slipping? She supposed it was possible he’d clutched the leash, assuming there had been one. She didn’t want to ask. The memories were clearly still devastating. Allison tried to bring Elle back gently to the task at hand, to Allison’s unanswered question. “Now you have your father and your brother here.”
“Half-brother.”
“Half-brother. So you have family support. And clearly you have friends. Mazy, the Aldens, Jeremy Kahn, and his wife.”
“They’re hardly friends. And I wouldn’t call Michael family support.”
Allison studied her client. “What do you want to accomplish, Elle?”
Elle rose. She walked to the wet bar and poured herself a glass of scotch. “Want some?” When Allison declined, Elle swallowed the booze in one swig. She poured another and returned to the couch. “I wish you weren’t so damn sanctimonious.”
“Am I? I just don’t want a drink.”
“I want Damien back.”
“I’m afraid I can’t make that happen.”
“Then I want to know why he died.”
Allison stayed quiet.
“Oh, hell.” Elle slammed back another shot. “What do I want to accomplish? It’s simple, really. I want to be somebody else. Can you do that, Allison? Can you make me disappear?”
Karina collected Allison at exactly three o’clock. By then, Elle had shared bits of her past if not a vision of her future. The conversation had been exhausting for both of them. Allison’s questions seemed to drain Elle’s life force and test her patience, and Elle’s inability to focus was maddening to Allison. Allison gleaned three main points from their intake discussion. One, Elle was very unhappy with her current situation. Two, Elle had few people in her life whom she felt she could trust. And three, without Daddy’s money, Elle had no real source of income going forward. She needed to rejoin the ranks of the working. Damien had died with debts, and with her father’s health deteriorating, Elle didn’t want to approach him for help. She wanted to make it on her own.
Allison considered her client as she left the castle, relieved to be back outside. Was reinvention possible? She wasn’t so sure.
“I apologize for the white lie,” Karina said as they passed through the gate that led to the pool. “But Elle would have kept you there until dinner. She can be rather incoherent at times. And attention-seeking. I thought perhaps you would like to spend time with Grace before dinner.”
Allison smiled. “Thank you. I would.”
Karina had traded her dirndl for a white pair of linen pants and a button-down pink tank. Her hair was loose, held back at the crown of her head with a tortoiseshell comb. She took the comb out, pulled the hair back from her face, and repositioned it. A picture of outdoorsy good health.
“So what do you do as Elle’s personal assistant?” Allison repeated the question she’d asked earlier, hoping for a more lucid response.
“Anything and everything, really. I help Elle with her appointments and correspondence. I oversee the staff here at the castle—although there aren’t many of us left. And I help Hilda manage Mr. Norton’s appointments. He requires a great deal of attention. He’s not well.”
The mysterious Sam Norton. Allison wondered when she’d get to meet the former rock star who already seemed larger than life.
The pool was empty except for Grace and Jason, who were having a catch in the figure-eight pool. Hilda was sitting beneath a large red umbrella, crocheting. She glanced occasionally at the pair frolicking in the large pool, her expression inscrutable. Mazy Coyne lay on a lounge chair toward the back of the deck. Her oversized sunglasses and mop of salt and pepper curls stuck out from the shroud of beige linen protecting her fr
om the sun. The only other guest was Shirin Alden. She sat at a small wooden table, long, bronze legs stretched out assertively beneath a vibrant pink sarong. She was reading a magazine. The straps of her black bikini had been removed, and she held up her top with one hand while she turned the pages with the other.
“Aunt Allison!” Grace yelled. “Come in with us.”
Allison waved. The pool did look inviting. A lapis lazuli oasis amidst a sea of deep green and towering browns, it quite literally shimmered in the sun.
“I took the liberty of moving your bathing suit to the dressing rooms,” Karina said. “Your fiancé provided it. I hope you don’t mind.”
“That’s fine.”
“I was hoping we could have a word. I can show you the spa and accompany you while you change.”
Allison wasn’t quite used to having practical strangers offer to accompany her to change, but she agreed—mostly out of curiosity about what Karina had to say. She followed Karina into the glass-enclosed space. The spa was beautiful: all glass and chrome and wood and fresh white cotton. A central kiosk offered fresh towels and robes, hot tea, lemon water, and fresh fruit. Around the kiosk, under the solarium glass, sat a half dozen lounge chairs. Behind the chairs were several treatment rooms, including a sauna, a steam shower, and locker rooms with a central open shower. After a quick tour, Karina led Allison to the locker rooms.
She checked to be sure they were alone. “Something is going on with Elle,” she said without preamble. “Something…strange.”
“Strange as in?”
The seemingly unflappable Karina was clearly searching for words. “She seems indecisive, aloof. Unstable. She’s been preoccupied with her husband’s death.”
Why are you telling me this? Allison wondered. After all, they only met yesterday.
Seeming to catch Allison’s look of bewilderment, Karina said, “I know it may seem odd that I’m bringing this to your attention now, so soon after you’ve arrived, but you’ll have access to Elle that others, including me, do not.”
