by Anita Hughes
Marjorie opened her eyes and sat up.
“Of course! The brunette who was with Ricky,” she exclaimed. “I haven’t seen him at all. You must be keeping each other busy.”
“I wonder if I could talk to you.” Lily glanced around at couples lounging in deck chairs. “It’s quite personal.”
“It sounds more interesting than the squash game I was invited to,” Marjorie replied. “Why don’t we go into my stateroom?”
* * *
Lily perched on a cream sofa and fiddled with her earrings. The room had a walnut desk and king-sized bed and a window seat scattered with cushions. A sideboard was set with platters of soft cheeses and slices of orange.
“Christoff’s yacht is heavenly. It will be a shame when the summer is over.” Marjorie handed Lily a glass of papaya juice. “Now tell me what’s wrong, it must have something to do with Ricky.”
“We’ve gotten quite serious about each other,” Lily admitted. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I’m only here to open Lily Bristol. But he’s falling in love with me, and I feel the same.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Marjorie asked. “Ricky is one of the most eligible bachelors on the Emerald Coast.”
“I discovered he’d been engaged and didn’t mention it,” Lily said. “Her name was Poppy, and they met last summer. I wonder if you knew her.”
“Of course I know Poppy!” Marjorie exclaimed. “Her home base is New York, but she spends most of her time cruising around the Aegean. I remember seeing them together, but I never imagined they were engaged.”
“Then you don’t know why they broke up.” Lily’s shoulders sagged. If Marjorie couldn’t help her, she didn’t know what she’d do.
“It couldn’t have been too traumatic. Poppy got married in April. I attended her wedding. It was in a garden in Kent, and it rained. The whole thing had to be moved inside.”
“She got married?” Lily felt a warmth spread through her chest. Ricky was telling the truth! Poppy had only gotten engaged to him to make her fiancé jealous.
“Apparently it was a whirlwind courtship,” Marjorie continued. “She met Anthony on a chairlift in Gstaad and got married three months later.”
“O-oh, I-I see,” Lily stammered. “Thank you for telling me. You’ve been a great help.”
“I haven’t been a help at all.” Marjorie frowned. “You look like I just told you I had to put your dog to sleep.”
“Ricky said Poppy only agreed to marry him to make her boyfriend jealous. As soon as Ricky’s ring was on her finger, he showed up and asked her to marry him. Poppy called off the engagement and went back to her boyfriend.”
“That is a different story,” Marjorie agreed. “Why don’t you ask Poppy? I have her number in my contacts.”
“I can’t call a woman I’ve never met.” Lily shook her head.
“Of course you can,” Marjorie said. “When you’re in love, you have to fight for what you want. And if you’re going to get hurt, it’s best to know now.”
Lily remembered driving up to Ricky’s villa with the wind blowing her hair. He’d squeezed her hand and said he was falling in love with her.
“I suppose you’re right.” She nodded.
“I’ll send Poppy a message and tell her you’ll call.” Marjorie ate a slice of orange and tossed the peel on the plate. “You think love gets easier when you’re cruising the Mediterranean, but it never does. Women have to help each other. Who else do we have?”
* * *
Lily stood in front of her dresser and brushed her cheeks with powder. She smoothed her hair and wished Oliver had never entered Lily Bristol. She had been so looking forward to eating suckling pig with eggplant. Now there was a knot in her stomach, and she could barely swallow.
What if she didn’t call Poppy? They’d sip a gold liqueur and discuss when Ricky could come to New York. He would touch her cheek, and she would feel so happy.
But Marjorie was right; if Ricky had lied, she had to know now. She punched Poppy’s number into her phone and pressed send.
“Hello.” A female voice came over the line. “Who’s calling?”
“This is Lily Bristol.” Lily suddenly felt like a teenager making a prank call at a slumber party.
“Marjorie said you would call, but she didn’t tell me what it was about,” Poppy answered. “I’m on a yacht in Ibiza, and reception is terrible. I hope you can hear me.”
“I can hear you perfectly,” Lily said. “I’m calling about Ricky Pirelli.”
“That’s a name I didn’t expect to hear again.” Poppy laughed.
“Ricky and I are involved, and I discovered he was engaged to you last summer. I wondered if you could tell me why it didn’t work out.”
“You mean why Ricky and I didn’t get married?” Poppy asked.
“Yes.” Lily flushed. “I hope I’m not being too personal.”
“If you’d called a few months ago, I would have hung up,” Poppy said. “I was so hurt, I thought I’d never recover. But I met Anthony, and now I feel so lucky.”
“Recover from what?” Lily asked.
“From Ricky dumping me on our wedding day.”
“What did you say?” Lily sunk onto the sofa and stared out the window. The sun melted over the horizon, and the sea was a muted purple.
“I met Ricky at a party on the yacht. God, he was gorgeous, with those dark eyes and chiseled cheeks.” She paused. “We played tennis and swam and went horseback riding. Then all of a sudden, he got serious. We took a day trip to the village of Arzachena. We were browsing in the outdoor market, and he stopped in front of a jewelry stall. He bought a glass ring and said he couldn’t bear to be apart. Then he got down on his knee and asked me to marry him.
“I thought he was joking, but he said he had never been more serious. The whole scene was so exotic: pastel-colored villas and hills bursting with wildflowers. I never wanted to leave. I said yes, and everyone cheered, and he slipped the ring on my finger.
“We realized I couldn’t wear a glass ring; it would never fly in our circles. Ricky insisted we pick out an engagement ring together; he didn’t want to get it wrong. And it was gorgeous! A square sapphire flanked by diamonds.
“I suggested we fly to Manhattan to meet my parents and hold the wedding the following summer. Everyone would have been so disappointed if there wasn’t a reception with an orchestra and a twelve-tier wedding cake.
“But he couldn’t leave his store. And he was afraid if I went back to New York alone, the whole thing would fizzle. He wanted to have a civil ceremony and host a party next spring.
“I thought that was thrilling. What could be more romantic than a secret ceremony performed by a justice of the peace? I bought a short white dress, and he wore a white suit, and we met at an office off the piazzetta. Then I had to show him my passport, and Ricky called the whole thing off.”
“Your passport?” Lily repeated.
“I’m based in New York, but my father is British and my mother is from Venezuela. I don’t have an American passport.”
“I don’t understand,” Lily replied. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Ricky always dreamed of opening a clothing store on Fifth Avenue. He needed a green card,” she explained. “He had to marry someone with an American passport.”
Lily remembered Marjorie saying Ricky adored everything about America, and felt a pain in her chest. She clutched the phone and gasped.
“He just said he didn’t want to marry you?”
“He was more diplomatic than that.” Poppy paused. “He said he realized how important my family was and he had gone about it all wrong. He suggested he visit New York at Christmas and meet my parents. I might have believed him, but the next day he left for Rome. He said his uncle was ill, and he had to take care of him.”
“And after that?” Lily whispered.
“I never heard from him again.” Poppy sighed. “I was so angry, I wished I’d kept the ring. It was my idea fo
r him to hold on to it. I didn’t want to show up at my parents’ apartment wearing an engagement ring from a man they hadn’t met.” She stopped. “But Anthony is perfect, and we’re going to spend part of the year in England. Not the summers, of course, it rains so much, it would be like living in India.”
“I’m glad everything turned out,” Lily said, and clutched the side of the dresser. “You’ve been very helpful.”
“Ricky is a lot of fun and a wonderful kisser. I hope you’ll be happy,” Poppy replied. “You’re everything he dreamed of.”
“What do you mean?” Lily asked.
“Marjorie said you’re from New York,” she said. “You’re exactly what he wanted.”
Lily hung up and walked to the dresser. She took the ruby pendant out of the box and snapped it around her neck. Then she sank onto the sofa and burst into tears.
* * *
Lily sat at an outdoor table at Il Pescatore and moved peaches with vanilla ice cream around her plate. The sky was thick with stars, and the air smelled of hibiscus and juniper.
She had wanted to talk to Ricky before dinner, but he was already seated at the table. Then the maître d’ brought a complimentary bottle of pinot noir, and the chef came out to greet them, and she had to join him.
Ricky ordered scorpion fish and fregola pasta, and they talked about his store and Lily Bristol’s grand opening. Lily ate sautéed cockerel, and her chest tightened. It was all so perfect, with the boats lapping against the shore and the sound of tinkling glasses.
“You’re very quiet.” Ricky ate pears with white chocolate. “You must be tired from preparing for the grand opening. We should have an early night.”
“Oliver came into the store this morning.” Lily fiddled with her spoon.
“Your ex-husband came to see you?” Ricky asked.
“He wanted to see the store.” She paused. “He told me yesterday he was going to propose to Angela.”
“Does he always share such intimate details about his life?” Ricky inquired.
“Well, she would be Louisa’s stepmother. He was very excited,” she answered. “But this morning, he said they’re not getting married after all. Angela said she was pregnant, but he discovered she lied to him.”
“That’s shocking! But it’s better he find out now.” Ricky concentrated on his dessert. “That would be a terrible way to start a marriage.”
“He asked Angela why she lied, and she said you put her up to it.” Lily looked up, and her eyes were huge. “You were afraid Oliver was still in love with me and didn’t want the competition.”
“That’s absurd!” Ricky frowned. “I haven’t wanted to say anything, but Oliver seems a little unbalanced. Obviously, Angela jilted him, and he was trying to come between us.”
“That’s what I thought. I told him he just didn’t want me to be happy…”
“You see, we agree on everything.” Ricky beamed. “I hope he didn’t upset you. Let’s take our glasses of Mirto and walk along the beach. There is nothing more soothing than the sand between your toes.”
“But then I remembered about your engagement to Poppy.” Lily kept talking. “I thought if I could find out if you told the truth, I’d be more confident that Oliver was lying.
“So I went to Christoff’s yacht and saw a woman I met a few days ago, Marjorie. Marjorie said she attended Poppy’s wedding in April.”
“Poppy got married?” Ricky looked confused. “That’s wonderful news. I’m glad she and her fiancé worked it out.”
“Except it didn’t match what you told me. Marjorie said it was a whirlwind courtship; Poppy and her husband met in Gstaad and got married three months later. She suggested I call Poppy and find out the truth.”
“Lily,” Ricky stopped her. “You don’t have to go to such measures. I should have told you I was engaged to Poppy, but I was embarrassed. In Sardinia, males are taught to hide their failures.”
“It wasn’t any trouble getting hold of Poppy. She was on a yacht in Ibiza. She said you suggested having a civil ceremony because you didn’t want her to go back to America without you.” She paused. “But when she presented her passport, you stopped the wedding. You wanted to marry her for the same reason you said you are in love with me. All you wanted was a green card.”
“Everyone makes up stories after a relationship ends,” he implored. “You haven’t even met Poppy. How can you believe her? Perhaps she was angry at her new husband and wanted to cause trouble.”
“All I wanted was someone to explore the Emerald Coast with. You didn’t even have to kiss me.” Her eyes glistened. “Then you said you were falling in love with me, and I started to feel the same. How could you lie to me? It’s the cruelest thing in the world.”
Ricky swallowed the Mirto and placed his glass on the tablecloth. He leaned forward and took her hand.
“You have it all wrong, I am in love with you. You are bright and beautiful, and we share the same goals,” he began. “I ran into Angela at the pharmacist and noticed she was buying a pregnancy test. I merely suggested that it would be a pleasant surprise if she were pregnant. I was worried that Oliver still had feelings for you. At the Yacht Club, he behaved like a lovesick figure in a Shakespeare play. But I would never tell Angela to lie about a pregnancy.
“And what happened with Poppy last summer was completely different. You don’t understand what it’s like growing up on the Emerald Coast. I own a designer boutique, but I’m no different from Petro the newsagent, who sells the Sunday Times and Violet Crumble bars. I might get invited on fancy yachts, but they never leave the port. And I could as easily afford one of the Bentleys parked outside my store as a trip to the moon.
“At night, I would read American newspapers and watch American television. You could be successful doing anything: becoming an athlete or a hairdresser or owning a chain of stores. Americans don’t care what village you come from, or how many languages you speak, or what schools you attended.
“When I finally got the chance to go to New York, it was better than I dreamed: boulevards wider than Porto Cervo and every kind of shop! I took the escalator to the top of Ralph Lauren, Fifth Avenue, and thought I could have that. Four floors of exclusive fashions on the most important street in the world.
“I came back to the Emerald Coast and met Poppy by accident. We had fun, and she was very pretty, why shouldn’t I marry her?” He paused. “Then I found out she didn’t have an American passport and got cold feet. I wouldn’t even be able to work in New York.
“I stopped the wedding because I needed time to think. Poppy left, and the affair just fizzled.” His eyes dimmed. “You have to believe me. I don’t care where we live or what we do, I just want to be with you.”
“I don’t understand.” Lily frowned. “Enzo said you were educated abroad and well-traveled.”
“I went to a Catholic boys’ school in Sicily,” Ricky admitted. “And before last summer, I’d never been farther than Rome. But we’ll explore the world together. And you can show me San Francisco. I’ve always wanted to see the Golden Gate Bridge.”
“Please stop.” Her head ached, and she’d never felt so tired. “Oliver and I met when we were twenty-two, and we were so in love. All we wanted was to be happy. Then he told one small lie, and it was like a tapeworm we couldn’t get rid of. I could never be with someone who didn’t tell the truth. I’ve had a lovely time, but I should go.” She pushed back her chair. “I’ll return the pendant in the morning.”
“Keep the pendant.” He walked around the table. His fingers caressed her neck, and she shivered. “Maybe after you sleep on it, you’ll change your mind.”
“I won’t change my mind.” She gathered her purse. “Good-bye, Ricky. Thank you for showing me the Emerald Coast.”
* * *
Lily left the restaurant and hurried along the rocks. How could Ricky lie to her about everything? She’d let herself fall in love and now her heart was breaking.
She took off her sandals and walked alon
g the shore. She remembered running on the beach in Portugal with Oliver on their honeymoon. She pictured building sand castles in Connecticut with Louisa. Ricky said the sand was soothing between your toes, but tonight he was wrong. She perched on a pile of driftwood and let the tears roll down her cheeks.
* * *
Lily spread preserves on whole-wheat toast and dusted her omelet with salt. It was the morning after her date with Ricky, and today was the grand opening of Lily Bristol. She stirred sugar into a cup of coffee and walked to the balcony. The sea was like a tapestry, and it was going to be a spectacular day.
After dinner with Ricky, she’d come back to the suite and taken a long bath. She told herself she had one night to cry, and she curled up with a box of tissues and a book she’d bought at the hotel gift shop.
She had been wrong to date so quickly; she had only just gotten divorced. But you couldn’t predict or prevent falling in love. The most she could do was concentrate on something else: the grand opening of Lily Bristol and going home to Louisa tomorrow.
There was a knock on the door, and she hoped it was Enzo. She couldn’t deliver the pendant to Ricky; she would have Enzo do it. After all, he was her butler.
She opened the door, and Oliver stood in the hallway. He wore khakis, and his arms were folded over his chest.
“You took my breakfast. I can smell the cheese omelet from the hall.” He entered her suite.
“What are you talking about?” she asked. “Room service left the tray outside my door half an hour ago.”
“I ordered an omelet an hour ago, and it never arrived.” He glanced at the tray. “And you hate grilled tomatoes.”
Lily noticed the side plate of grilled tomatoes and frowned. Had she forgotten to hang the room service menu on the door last night?
“The tray may have been closer to your suite, but I thought they made a mistake,” she conceded. “I always order a cheese omelet when I travel.”
“So do I,” he reminded her. “I’m the one who told you it’s hard to ruin eggs and cheese. It’s the safest thing on the menu.”
“I guess you’re right.” She handed him the plate. “Here, you can have it.”
