Too Good to Be True

by Sheila O'Flanagan

  “How could you see how I looked?” demanded Carey as she opened the bathroom door. “You’re at a party.”

  “Yes, but I’m not drinking.” Finola gazed at her friend. “Sure everything’s all right?”

  “Of course it is,” said Carey. “I just got a bit warm, that’s all. I’m ready for action again now.”

  Pushing past Finola, she grabbed a bottle of Miller from the sideboard and then joined the dancing throng. After a while Peter joined them too and they were whirling round and round together, breathless and laughing. Then the music slowed and the aching melody of George Harrison’s “Something” meant that people either stopped dancing or joined together as couples. Carey felt Peter’s arms tighten around her as he held her close.

  When the song ended he held her a little way away from him and looked deep into her eyes. “I didn’t know whether tonight would be a good time,” he said. “I thought maybe it would be better to wait until we were alone?”

  “For what?” she asked.

  He released her and quite suddenly everyone was looking at them, aware of a change in the atmosphere between them. Peter put his hand into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a navy velvet box. Carey’s eyes widened as she looked at it.

  “But maybe it’s a good time to ask,” he said. “In front of witnesses and everything.”

  “Peter…”

  He opened the box. A large solitaire diamond glittered beneath the dimmed lights.

  “I love you, Carey Browne,” said Peter. “And I want you to be my wife.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  PALMAROSA

  A grass oil with a floral fragrance that is very refreshing

  In order to get to the Dominican Republic Carey had bought a discounted charter holiday from London, which meant that to get her dinky and probably totally useless divorce she was going to spend six nights at an all-inclusive resort hotel on the tropical island. Peter hadn’t wanted her to go by herself, had begged her to wait until the summer, when he could take some time off and go with her, but she’d told him that she wanted to get the divorce now so that she could feel right about wearing his engagement ring on her finger.

  She still hadn’t got used to the idea of being engaged to Peter. When he’d proposed to her at her housewarming party she’d been shocked. Her first impulse had been to say no, that he was mad, that she was still legally caught up in another relationship and so was he — but his eyes, dark and searing, had looked at her with a mixture of passion and pleading that had totally disarmed her. And so she found herself saying yes and allowing him to slide the ring onto her finger while her friends and family oohed and aahed and finally applauded them warmly.

  Later that night, when everyone had eventually gone home and while Peter lay in an alcohol-induced sleep on her bed, she asked herself why she’d said yes to him when all night she’d been congratulating herself on being a single woman with her own apartment living her own life. Why had she agreed to change all that simply because he’d taken her completely by surprise in such a public way? She wondered whether she was once again being caught up in the romance of the moment rather than thinking ahead, whether she was being silly and impulsive and walking herself into trouble.

  But she couldn’t walk herself into any worse trouble than she’d done in New York a few short months ago. And Peter loved her. She knew that he loved her. She knew everything about him. There were no murky girlfriends in his past ready to come out and ruin their lives. Admittedly he still had to finalize his divorce with Sandra, but as far as she could tell it was all perfectly straightforward.

  She loved Peter too. When she’d first met him she’d been unable to sleep because she couldn’t stop thinking about him. And though his revelations about his marriage had shocked and hurt her to the core, that didn’t mean she’d stopped loving him. She’d told herself that she’d stopped loving him, of course. She’d pushed him out of her mind. But she could let herself love him again. Couldn’t she?

  And in the end, she thought, what was the point of being a woman out there doing it for yourself if there wasn’t someone to share it with?

  She sat back in her window seat halfway down the airbus cabin and looked at her watch. They were still in Irish-controlled airspace. Much of the air traffic over the North Atlantic was handled by Shannon. She wondered who was working high-level traffic today. She didn’t know many of them in Shannon — in fact, there was a lot of friendly rivalry between their control center and Dublin. She closed her eyes. She wasn’t going to think about work; she was going to think about her holiday. The divorce part was entirely incidental. A week on her own would be fun. It was probably wrong of her to be looking forward to a week on her own, without any man in tow just after getting engaged, but she was enjoying herself already.

  “Juice?” The stewardess leaned across with a tray and Carey took the proffered glass of orange. Then she fixed her earphones in her ears and settled back to watch the romantic comedy movie which was being shown to while away the Atlantic crossing. When it was over she got up from her seat and walked up and down the cabin to stretch her legs. She smiled involuntarily as she remembered her last long-distance flight, the much-delayed return from New York where Ben had complained about deep vein thrombosis before they’d even managed to take off. Was that the last time we really loved each other? she wondered suddenly. Was it the last time that we felt truly close?

  She sat back in her seat. At least this time there was no chance of her losing her heart to a fellow-traveler since she was sitting beside two comfortably late-middle-aged women who were traveling together. Staying at the same resort hotel as her too, she discovered. They chatted to her for a while, clucked over the fact that she was traveling on her own, hoped she’d have a really nice holiday. She told them that she hoped she would too. She didn’t say anything about her reason for visiting the Dominican Republic. She imagined they’d think she was cracked if she did.

  Peter had said that it didn’t matter that they had to wait to get married, that he wanted her to wear the ring, and that she could move in with him anytime she liked. He said that he didn’t care whether or not she went to the Dominican Republic. But she knew she had to go. She wanted something, she told him, even if it was a nonsense piece of paper, to tell her that she wasn’t married to Ben Russell any longer and that it was OK to be engaged to Peter instead. When she finished speaking he’d shrugged in acquiescence and told her to enjoy herself. And her eyes had filled with unexpected tears so that he’d put his arms round her and hugged her, and she’d almost changed her mind about going without him.

  But now that she was on her way, Carey confidently expected to enjoy herself. Excluding the day’s trip to the court in Santo Domingo to deal with the divorce, she planned to while away the week on the beach doing absolutely nothing. The Palmyra Resort had, according to the brochure, unrivaled access to a wide stretch of white sandy beach ideal for doing absolutely nothing.

  She opened her bag and checked, for the tenth time, her folder of the necessary documents which she’d had to bring with her. The marriage certificate, the power-of-attorney, the property settlement, and her passport. She’d sent an e-mail to Ben giving him the details of everything she needed from him and telling him that she’d be traveling to the Dominican Republic soon but not giving him the exact date. Ben had then appointed a representative to appear for him in the Dominican Republic court.

  Then he’d asked her if it was really worth all the trouble, whether or not they would just be better off waiting for their four years to be up and then getting a proper divorce at home, but she’d explained about her engagement to Peter and her uneasiness at wearing his ring until she was divorced, in some shape or form, from Ben. He’d given her everything she needed. And so, she thought with a sense of relief as she closed her eyes, by next week this chapter in my life will be over.

  Freya and Sylvia sat in Bewley’s in Grafton Street with two cups of frothy white coffee in front of them.


  “She went this morning,” said Sylvia. “Flight to London first thing and then a flight to the Dominican Republic. I think she’s off her rocker.”

  “Oh, what’s another off - her - rocker - like maneuver for either Ben or Carey?” asked Freya. “Let’s face it, everything else they’ve done has been totally insane.”

  “I couldn’t believe it when Peter took out the engagement ring at her housewarming,” Sylvia said. “I was hoping that she’d tell him no, that she needed some time, but she just gasped and put it on her finger straight away, and of course everyone thought it was the most romantic thing ever. Including my silly, silly daughter.”

  Freya sighed. “How is Jeanne, by the way?”

  “Oh fine,” said Sylvia dismissively. “Actually quite well now. We’ve kind of got over the whole thing about asking her where’s she’s going all the time and that’s helped.”

  “Not something I’ll ever have to worry about,” said Freya.

  “No,” agreed Sylvia. “Are you feeling OK these days?”

  “More or less,” Freya told her. “Coming to terms with it has been difficult, but I’m better in myself and the remedies are certainly helping. I was so cranky and tired all the time and my cycle was all over the place. Now I feel much better.”

  “You look wonderful,” said Sylvia. “How are you about the whole baby issue, though?”

  Freya was silent for a moment. “Still a bit sad,” she said eventually. “I don’t know whether it would ever have been on the agenda for me, Sylvia, but I’m sad that it’s not me who decides. At the same time I know I can live with it. And I know Brian can too. That’s why learning about Linnet was so important.”

  “Will you see her from time to time?”

  “Mm.” Freya nodded. “In her case, though, the very last thing I need to do is get involved with her life or tell her what she should and shouldn’t do! Fortunately she’s grown up, so it doesn’t matter.” She sipped her coffee. “Actually we’re going to Amsterdam next month. I’ll meet her then. I’m looking forward to it even though part of me is terrified.”

  “Terrified?”

  “That she won’t like me.” She smiled faintly. “Isn’t it silly to be worried about the opinion of someone who’ll never really get to know you? But I want her to feel OK about Brian and me.”

  “I’m sure she will,” said Sylvia comfortingly. “And I think you’re great.”

  Freya laughed. “Not great,” she said. “Not great at all. But more comfortable about things lately. Definitely.”

  “If only I thought anyone in my family had reached that level of comfort.” Sylvia sighed.

  “Perhaps Carey has now,” said Freya.

  “Perhaps.” Sylvia dumped extra sugar into her coffee. “And how about Ben? How does he feel about this half-divorce?”

  Freya shrugged. “He doesn’t say anything. He’s been caught up in work lately. We had an offer from a U.S. chain to take a stake in Herbal Matters.”

  “Really? A good offer?”

  “Yes.” Freya nodded. “He’s trying to decide what to do about it.”

  “Surely it’s as much your decision as his?”

  “Of course. But I’ve said I’ll go along with whatever he decides. A while ago it would’ve mattered to me more. Getting the money from the U.S. crowd would be nice, of course, but it’s not really that important to me any longer. Knowing that we have a good business is what counts.”

  “And that you’re both happy?”

  “Absolutely,” said Freya.

  Ben looked at the spreadsheet in front of him. There was no question but that the offer from Palmarosa for a stake in the Herbal Matters chain was a generous one. He was still astonished that they’d made the offer in the first place, but Diane, who’d called him about it, had said that their market research had shown that Ireland would be a good place for their first European foothold. Ben wasn’t sure that he wanted to be part of a European assault by Palmarosa, but he also knew that they were a good, ethical company and that if he had to sell out to anyone, they were one of the best.

  The money would be helpful, he thought, but not as critical as it might have been a few years ago. It wasn’t as though Freya needed it — Brian was extremely well-off and Freya’s own investments had done well. It wasn’t as though he needed it either. Sure, a lump of cash would mean that he could pay off his mortgage, but it wouldn’t change his life. He liked his life the way it was.

  He didn’t want to go back to his technology-crazed days where you were never 100 percent sure what you were trying to sell or why. With Herbal Matters he knew exactly what he was trying to sell. And he thought it was a worthwhile product, too, unlike some of the so-called new generation stuff he’d done before. The field of natural remedies was as competitive as anything else, but he liked it.

  He supposed there were other things he could get involved with if he wanted. The one thing about himself that he was really proud of was that he was flexible. He’d decided that in the last few days. He could roll with the punches, he told himself. He could take whatever it was life threw at him. And he could learn from his mistakes. He sighed as he thought about this. He hoped, he said out loud, that he could learn from his mistakes. Which was a slightly different thing.

  The monitors above the passengers’ heads showed that the journey was nearing its end. The stewardess announced that they were about to begin their final descent and the screens switched to showing their altitude. Carey watched as it decreased, sliding through 3,000 feet, 2,000 feet — from where she visualized the captain establishing them on the localizer — 1,000 feet, and then suddenly the runway was beneath them; then came the touch of the tires on the surface and the roar of the reverse thrust being applied.

  Carey followed the rest of the passengers into the small terminal building and drank a bottle of mineral water while they waited for their luggage to arrive. It was nearly half an hour later before she emerged into the soup-warm air to look for the minibus to take her to the resort.

  The two older women who’d sat beside her had already found it and waved frantically at her. She clambered on board and sat behind them, wiping the perspiration from her forehead. The rest of their group made it in dribs and drabs, and it was another half an hour before they finally set off for the resort. Carey felt her energy begin to flag, but she was kept interested by the lushness of the island, the worrying signs of poverty belied by the beaming smiles of the children who waved at the minibus as it drove by.

  Nevertheless she was thankful when they finally pulled up outside the hotel, pleasantly surprised to see that it was extremely modern with a large marble foyer, chillingly air conditioned so that everyone shivered as they waited to register. Carey’s room was on the first floor and, as she discovered to her delight, had a view over the millpond Caribbean Sea. She leaned over the wooden balcony and looked into the luxuriant green gardens below, crammed with extravagantly colored flowers and shrubs. It was a pity in some ways, she thought, that she couldn’t have waited until Peter could have come with her. She was sure he would have loved it. But if she was having closure, she decided, she was having it now, and she wasn’t waiting for anyone.

  Carey never spent long over her unpacking and she didn’t this time either. She pulled clothes out of her case and hung them on the wooden hangers in her wardrobe, stuffed her underwear into one of the drawers, and then pulled on her swimsuit, a pair of shorts, and a T-shirt, and went downstairs.

  The foyer opened out onto a wide wooden verandah dotted with tables and chairs which, she decided, was almost directly below her room. From here, a wooden path led to a pool area and then, a couple of yards further, to the sea. Catching her breath in delight, Carey walked onto the finest, whitest sand she’d ever seen. It was as though any holiday brochure she’d ever picked up and sighed over had come to life right here in front of her. A huge palm tree, bent almost sideways, reached across the beach towards the sea, its bark bleached white from the sun. Straw-topped suns
hades lined up in neat ranks near the hotel but didn’t intrude too far onto the glorious sand. Carey walked over to a sunbed and sat down. Almost immediately a hotel employee arrived with a blue and white striped mattress and a bright yellow towel. This is heaven, thought Carey, as she slid off her sandals and lay beneath the shade. Absolute heaven.

  It was raining in Dublin. Ben hurried up the driveway of Brian’s house and rang the bell. When he stepped inside, he shook his head so that the drops of rain spattered onto Brian’s dark green wallpaper.

  “You’re not a bloody dog,” said Brian in amusement. “I’ll get you a towel.”

  “It’s OK.” Ben slicked back his hair with his hands in a practiced gesture. “Just getting the heavy wet out of it.”

  “Right,” said Brian, and led him into the living room. “Want a drink?”

  “Yes, please.” Ben closed his eyes. “I’d really like a whiskey. I’m cold and wet and I had to wait ages for a cab.”

  “You need a car,” said Brian.

  “Nope.” Ben shook his head in disagreement, but this time raindrops didn’t spray the room. “Too much trouble. The van is usually fine, but Genny from the Tallaght branch has it tonight because they’re doing some work tomorrow…you know how it is.”

  “I keep telling Freya that as joint managing directors of a company being courted by a U.S. multi-national, the least you could do is have a Merc between you.”

  Ben laughed. “I did all that,” he said. “At least, I had the Saab — which was a statement car too. I don’t care anymore.”

  “Does that mean you don’t care whether or not you sell?”

  “Partly,” he said. “Thing is, we’re both happy doing what we’re doing. At least…” He looked inquiringly at Brian. “I think we’re happy. Unless Freya’s said anything else to you?”

  “No,” said Brian. “Let’s face it, Ben, Herbal Matters is the biggest thing in her life. I’m not sure she wants to sell either, especially since her foray into the menopause stuff. I was looking at the sales figures — they’re phenomenal.”