As You Wish

by Jude Deveraux

  “Do you think he knew Kent had put the pills in your drink?” Olivia asked.

  “No. I think my father thought I’d found out about Carmen and had tried to kill myself. He wanted me put under constant care so I couldn’t try to do it again. He and Kent signed papers and I...” Elise shrugged.

  “You were put in a psychiatric ward,” Olivia said.

  “And no one there believed me when I said I hadn’t tried to kill myself. One of the doctors said I was so angry that he was afraid that if I were released I might harm Carmen and her child.”

  “That’s horrible!” Kathy said. “You were made into the villain. And meanwhile, Kent was at home like nothing had happened.”

  “Then you met Jeanne,” Olivia said.

  “She wasn’t my doctor so she couldn’t release me without the permission of my father and my husband. The, you know, sane people.”

  “So you escaped in the trunk of her car.”

  “I did. She let me out after we crossed the state line, and I sat in the front seat. We took turns driving.”

  “What did you talk about?” Olivia asked.

  Elise smiled. “Jeanne said, ‘Just so you know, I think your whole family is a bunch of douche wads and I’d like to see them locked up. But let’s talk about happy things.’ So we did. Food, gardens, and places we’d been. The next day she dropped me off at the diner in Summer Hill. She said, ‘I’m going to see that you will be given a chance to fix all of this.’”

  “With lawyers,” Kathy said. “I know some.”

  “I guess so, but I got the idea that she meant something else.”

  Olivia smiled. “I’m on Jeanne’s side. I want to hear about happy things. I want to know about your shirtless hero.”

  “Who may or may not have been spending time with me to cover for Carmen and—”

  Olivia put up her hand. “Tell us the story, then let Kathy and me be the judge. How did you meet Alejandro?”

  “Through Tara,” Elise said. “At least she’s the one who made me actually see him.” She shook her head. “It’s hard to imagine now but I was so involved with my husband that I paid no attention to the gorgeous, half-naked man sauntering through the garden two days a week. But then, Tara showed up and—”

  “Wait!” Kathy said. “When and where was this?”

  “Long Island, the summer before I found out about Carmen and their child. Back in the days when I still believed that Kent and I could possibly be a happy couple.”

  “I want to know how you and Kent acted when you were together,” Olivia said. “And especially what you were like.”

  Elise grimaced. “I was perfect because that’s what I thought it took to make a man love me.”

  “Been there, done that,” Kathy said. “With every diet I hoped that—No. This is your story. Tell us about you and Kent, then we want details about you and the beautiful Alejandro.”

  “We were and are nothing but friends. That’s all.” Elise’s voice softened. “It never went past that. On that last night, I tried, but he said no.” Her eyes seemed to fade as though in a dream.

  “Does Alejandro have dark eyes?” Kathy asked.

  Elise came back to the present. “Like a stallion at midnight.”

  “And you never went to bed with him?” Kathy asked.

  “I was never unfaithful to Kent. Not so much as a kiss. But there was one night with Alejandro when I was tempted to the point where I nearly broke. Moonlight and margaritas. We’d had an argument and he was leaving the country. I had some decisions to make and...” She looked at the women. “I guess I better start at the beginning.”

  “Yes, you should,” Olivia said and the women settled back to listen.

  Chapter Seven

  Elise had on what looked like a 1950s nightie. Something out of a Sandra Dee movie. Physically, she didn’t have a lot on top but she knew her long, slim legs often sent men’s eyes into spirals. As usual, this morning, she was trying to entice her husband to actually look at her.

  “The Becketts are a very important couple so cook something special, will you?” Kent said.

  Elise leaned against the kitchen counter, her legs extended so they looked even longer. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not a cook. Have you seen my keys?”

  “Behind you.”

  He turned. “Where?”

  “There. In that red lacquer box.”

  He picked them up. “No wonder I couldn’t find them. Why did you put them inside that thing?”

  “It’s a Japanese tebako box and I would never think of putting car keys in it. It might damage the finish.”

  “If you didn’t put them there, who did?” When she started to speak, he put up his hand. “It doesn’t matter. I have to go.”

  “Wait! I was wondering if you like what I have on.” She twirled around. It was a very short garment, covering the upper half of her with yards of semitransparent pale pink silk, and leaving the bottom half of her bare.

  “It’s cute. How much did it cost?”

  Elise tried to not let her fallen spirit show. “Nothing. I’ve had it since before we were married. Part of my trousseau.”

  “That’s good.” He stood there, staring at her, waiting for her to release him. “Out with it. I can tell that something’s on your mind.”

  “I want to get a job.”

  Instantly, there was laughter in his eyes. “Doing what? I understand that you’re bored, but really, what kind of job could you get?”

  “I was thinking about an art gallery.”

  “There aren’t any galleries near here—unless you count the local craft fair.”

  “Maybe Dad could lend me the money to open one.”

  Kent gave a snort of laughter. He was a handsome man, tall, with dark blond hair and blue eyes. He looked best in tennis whites, with a sweater tied around his shoulders. He was the epitome of good health and ancestors who went back to English aristocracy. Whereas Elise’s family had had money for generations, it was Kent’s that brought in the illustrious lineage.

  “Sorry, babe, but you know your dad. He’s not going to do anything that won’t make a ten-times profit. Why don’t you take some classes?”

  “More cooking?”

  “That’s a brilliant idea! You could make something fantastic when we have Mr. and Mrs. Beckett over. Duck a l’orange. How about that? Doesn’t that sound good?”

  “Such fun!”

  Kent gave a sigh. “Okay, so you don’t want to take any more cooking classes.” He looked at his watch—a gold Piaget that her parents had given him as a wedding gift. “I have to go. We’re working on a big merger today and I have to be there. Tonight we’ll sit down and talk about everything and I’ll try to find something for you to do.”

  “Then you’ll be home tonight before dark?”

  “Of course. No. Wait. Today’s the eighteenth, right? I have to attend a...well, something tonight. Take a bubble bath and curl up with a book. Use my absence to enjoy yourself.” He gave her cheek a quick kiss, then hurried out the door.

  Elise stood by the window and watched him drive away in his 700 series BMW, a car owned by her father’s company. Across the lawn, through the trees, she could see the side of her parents’ house and wondered if her mother was watching as Kent left.

  Where they lived had once been a guesthouse, used for overnight clients of her father’s management company. But when Kent and Elise got married, everyone—except Elise, that is—thought it would be great for “the children” to live there.

  Turning, she looked to the right and could see the corner of Kent’s parents’ house.

  They were kinder, less financially ambitious than Elise’s parents.

  The two mothers had met in college and they were so opposite that they were a perfect match. Elegance and ambition wer
e their overriding characteristics and they learned from each other.

  When they met men like themselves, they snatched them up so fast the men weren’t sure what had happened. The women got their husbands to buy two big houses next door to each other. The wives acted as though they were one property and loved to call the place “an estate.”

  There was great disappointment when one got pregnant and the other one didn’t. A boy was born, Kent, then two more children. It wasn’t until years later that Elise was finally born. She would be an only child.

  From the time she was a year old, her mother was disappointed in her. Elise was a quiet, ethereal, dreamy child who was more interested in art than in being better than the other kids in her class. She wasn’t competitive, didn’t seem to have any ambition, and liked to step back and let other people win. “It makes them so happy,” she said, and that was enough for her.

  The only thing that pleased her mother was Elise’s blind adoration of Kent. Whenever he was near, Elise would put her paints and crayons down and watch him.

  “I think they should marry,” Kent’s mother said one sunny afternoon as all the children were playing in the pool, their nannies close by.

  “Agreed,” Elise’s mother said, and that was that. They never spoke of it again. But then, they didn’t need to. It was settled.

  As Elise looked out her window at both houses, she felt trapped. She couldn’t figure out why her husband was so distant with her. She couldn’t put her finger on what was wrong, but there was something missing. There was a gap in their marriage and she had no idea how to fill it.

  With a sigh, she got dressed in knee-length shorts, a sleeveless linen blouse, and sandals, then cleaned up the kitchen that she’d never liked.

  On the wall was pinned a list of things she was supposed to do that day. Pick up Kent’s dry cleaning. Call Mrs. Beckett to ask if she or her husband had any food allergies. Take Kent’s shoes to the shop to be repaired. Go to a department store and find a gift for one of Kent’s clients—who Elise had never met. Drive twenty miles to the fishmonger Kent liked and get their red snapper.

  Elise pulled the list off the wall and had an impulse to crush it, but she didn’t. She tried to put it in order of what to do when. Feeling defiant, she dropped the list on the little kitchen desk and picked up a novel she’d had for a week, and went outside.

  There was a small patio at the back of the house that couldn’t be seen from the big houses. It was a haven to Elise. There was a larger stone terrace to the side, where they had a grill and the obligatory fire pit. It was what the designer Kent had hired called an “entertainment area.” It was only used for clients he wanted to impress.

  What Elise liked most about the guesthouse was the small patio. It was shaded and had a short stone wall around three sides. It made her feel safe, protected.

  When they’d moved in, Kent had wanted to tear it out. “We’ll bring in a dozer and flatten the area and make it five times as big,” he’d said. The landscape designer—a very nice older man—had seen the way his young bride looked like she was about to cry. He told Kent that was a terrible idea and the new entertainment area should be on the sunny side of the house.

  When Elise had mouthed “thank you,” he’d smiled.

  Last summer, she and Diego, the Mexican man who took care of the gardens for all three houses, planned how to make the little area beautiful. She sketched her vision of it on a drawing pad, but she didn’t know enough about gardening to make her ideas reality.

  “My brother knows about plants and he’s coming here. He’ll tell me what to put in to make it look like your drawing,” Diego said.

  She smiled at him; she’d always liked him. He’d been working there since she was in middle school. His sister, Carmen, was often there and they’d shared a few laughs—until the first time Elise came home from college, that is. Carmen had glared at Elise as though she were an enemy. Elise asked her what was wrong but Carmen wouldn’t say.

  By the time Elise and Kent were married, Carmen was so hostile that Elise stayed away from her.

  Late last summer she and Kent returned from a trip that was supposed to have been a second honeymoon, but he’d spent most of the time on the telephone. While they were away, Diego had finished her little patio. The beauty of it had cheered her up considerably. “These are lovely,” she told Diego as she touched the vines that trailed down the low wall. “You are a plant genius.”

  “It wasn’t me. My brother, Alejandro, did this.”

  “Tell him thanks from me,” Elise said, and went back inside the house. She had to sort out the household accounts and take care of the mail and do the laundry and go to the grocery and... She had to do all of it.

  The rest of that summer she’d been overwhelmed with all the things Kent gave her to do. Dinner parties and barbecues and Kent’s clients stopping by for cocktails.

  Sometimes she got fed up. “Why can’t you take them to a restaurant?”

  “Everyone takes them to restaurants. They want to feel like they’re part of a family, our family.” He put his arms around her, clasping his hands behind her back. “Come on, baby, all of this is for us. For you and me. So we can get closer to the time when we start that family you want so much.”

  Kent held the promise of a baby in front of her like a carrot before a donkey. It always made her back off.

  This was the beginning of the third summer they’d been married and Elise was determined that this year would be different. She had to get something to do besides pick up Kent’s dry cleaning. As for cooking, she’d taken enough classes to know that it wasn’t a skill she wanted to develop further.

  She stretched out on one of the thickly padded chaises and opened her book, but she didn’t see it. She needed to figure out what to do about her marriage.

  “You look like you’re fascinated by that book.” The voice dripped sarcasm.

  Elise tried to keep from showing an expression of horror. Tara! The school gossip. The girl who found out secrets and happily blabbed them. She lived in New York City, but her mother had a house nearby. “Hi,” Elise managed to say. “What brings you out to the boonies?”

  “Mom wanted New York bagels and whitefish salad so I had to drop everything and take them to her.”

  Elise understood. Tara’s mother subsidized her daughter’s New York apartment—with the stipulation that her daughter be at her beck and call.

  Tara plopped down on the chaise next to Elise. “So what’s up with you other than staring into space? Recovering from the night? With a hunk like Kent you must have a great time in bed.”

  Elise gave what she hoped was a mysterious smile. “Yeah, sure. We never get enough.”

  Tara seemed to be satisfied with that answer and looked back toward the little wall.

  Behind it was lawn and trees that Diego and his men kept trimmed. Suddenly, Tara sat upright. “Good Lord! What was that?”

  Elise looked but saw nothing. “I don’t know. Sometimes we get foxes, but—”

  “No! Him. The man.”

  “Diego? One of his men? They’re the gardeners.”

  Tara got out of the chair and looked along the side of the house. “Hey! Yeah, you,” she shouted. “Come over here.”

  “Tara, let the men work.”

  “He can work on me,” she said under her breath.

  “Most of the men are married and have children. I don’t think you should—” She broke off because a truly gorgeous man was standing at the top of the wall. He had on dirty cotton trousers and heavy boots, but from the waist up he was naked. Long, lean muscles, stomach divided into ridges, honey-colored skin. But as beautiful as his body was, his face was from the cover of a magazine: high cheekbones, full lips, dark eyes surrounded by thick black lashes. His coal-black hair reached down the back of his neck.

  Elise had no idea who he was.

&nb
sp; “Do. You. Speak. English?” Tara asked loudly.

  He jumped down to the patio with the grace of an athlete, then oddly, turned his back to Elise as he looked at Tara. Elise’s face was about a foot from his sun-warmed skin. If she put her hand up, she could touch him.

  When he reached behind him, it took her a second to see why. Tucked into his waistband was a copy of The Lord of the Rings. He was showing her that he could indeed speak English.

  Elise moved around him to stand beside Tara. She was looking up at him like he was a meal and she was starving.

  “Do you think he can speak?” Tara asked out of the side of her mouth.

  Elise saw the man’s eyes sparkle. “I have no idea. I’ve never seen him before. He’s probably one of Diego’s relatives.”

  “There are two of them?”

  Elise saw the man try to keep from smiling. “No. Diego isn’t like him at all.”

  “What. Is. Your. Name?” Tara asked. “Me Tara. You...?”

  “Tarzan?” Elise suggested.

  Tara frowned at her. “Really, Elise, how can you make jokes about this? This man is hanging around your house and you don’t even know who he is.”

  When Tara looked away, the man glanced at the wall behind them and nodded slightly.

  She understood. “He’s Diego’s brother. He chose the plants along the wall. What was his name? Alex? No. Alejandro.”

  “Si, si, Alejandro.” The man grinned, showing even, white teeth.

  Tara went to the chaise to reach inside her handbag. “I like men who speak no English.”

  When Elise looked up, he winked at her in conspiracy.

  Tara handed Alejandro her business card. “This is my address on Long Island. Why don’t you come by tomorrow afternoon? You and I can talk about you doing my garden.”

  Alejandro made no reaction.

  “Do you think he understands you?” Elise asked.

  “Probably not.” Tara smiled up at him. “Maˇnana. Get it? Tomorrow at two. Dos.”

  “Maˇnana. Dos. Si,” Alejandro said.