Emma walked out onto the terrace, her mouth falling open in delighted awe. The stone terrace was huge, running the entire length of the house. It was filled with fruit trees, flowers, and seating areas. In the distance, rocky cliffs sharply dropped off, but she caught sight of a white staircase. It must meander down to the sea. Far below them, the brilliant blue Mediterranean took up the entire horizon. It was the most breathtaking view she’d ever seen. She soaked in the sunshine and the stunning view for several minutes, standing next to a three-foot-tall stone wall covered in vines and blooming roses. She inhaled deeply of the sea air. The smell of gardenias and roses wafted into her nose. She could almost see Adrian and Vanni on the terrace as children . . . Adrian staring at the magnificent landscape dreamily while Vanni excitedly described some new adventure for them to undertake. Adrian would have calmed his fire, and Vanni would have infused Adrian with energy and purpose. How was it that she could picture Vanni so easily as an animated, happy child when she’d only ever known him as sober and controlled?
Resigned to his sadness?
Perhaps it was because of the trace of wistfulness in his tone when he’d talked about Adrian and him at La Mer as boys. Maybe it was because of the glimpses she caught of him when he made love, and she saw beneath the aloof surface to his fierce, savage soul.
Her thoughts weighed on her. Why couldn’t he make La Mer his permanent home? Why couldn’t he completely reclaim the happiness he’d once felt there?
And . . . tell Vanni . . . to forgive himself. I know he thinks it’s his fault.
Some of Cristina’s final words rose to haunt her at that moment, a sad, poignant reminder in such a sunny, beautiful, peaceful place.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” Mrs. Denis said from behind her. Emma turned from the stone wall and saw the housekeeper laying a tea service on the one of the wrought iron tables. Formerly, “tea” meant a bag and hot water in one of Emma’s mismatched mugs, but since Vanni had entered her life, it was an event.
“I’ve never seen anything to compare to it,” Emma agreed as she walked over to the table. “How long have you worked at La Mer?”
“It’ll be twenty-five years this winter,” Mrs. Denis said, setting the delicate antique teapot on the table along with a tiered plate filled with cakes, slices of aromatic, thick whole-grain bread, and a dish of butter. Emma’s mouth watered. “It’s hard to believe, especially since La Mer hardly ever changes. It’s the same old house I remember from my first weeks here.”
Emma smiled and sat when Mrs. Denis pulled back a chair at the table for her. “Some things should always remain the same. La Mer is definitely one of those places. I can see why Vanni loves it so much.” She started to pour, but Mrs. Denis beat her to the task.
“He does love it here. I only wish he’d be in residence more,” Mrs. Denis said. Her gaze sharpened on Emma as she set down the teapot. “I’ve never heard the tone in his voice before—the one I hear when he speaks of you.”
Emma’s fingers fumbled the silver cake knife she’d picked up. She looked at the housekeeper in surprise. “Really?”
Mrs. Denis shook her head, a sparkle in her black eyes. “If I had to guess, I’d say that Vanni thinks you’re special.”
Emma felt her cheeks heating. “That’s so nice, but it’s not as if . . . that is . . . Will Vanni be away for the entire day?” she fumbled, changing the topic because she didn’t know how to respond to the news. Mrs. Denis’s kind observation warmed her to her very core, but she didn’t know how to tell Mrs. Denis that she’d likely never return to La Mer, given the parameters of her relationship with Vanni.
“Yes, but I just called to tell him you’d arrived,” Mrs. Denis said, stepping back, her hands folded at her waist. “He asked me to tell you to rest up after your trip. He’s going to take you to Cannes this evening for a dinner planned for the drivers, their teams, and the racing committee at the Hôtel et Casino ‘Le Majestueux.’ We just call it Hôtel Le Maj, for short. It will be très glamour. All of the surrounding villages are very excited for the race, too,” she said, her toothy grin making her look years younger. “We’re having our own little celebrations at the café in town tonight, although it will be nowhere near as fancy as the one you’ll be going to with Vanni. Vanni has a special reason to celebrate, too, since Niki won the pole position for the Montand car today. Is everything all right?” Mrs. Denis asked, obviously noticing the shadow that crossed Emma’s face.
“Yes, of course. Thank you for the tea.”
“I probably shouldn’t have spoken about Vanni’s feelings. What do I know? It’s not as if he ever says anything of significance to me. Still, an old woman gets used to reading a man when she’s known him since he was this high,” she said, indicating a place on her leg below her apron. Emma smiled. “Forgive me if I made you uncomfortable,” she said. Emma was moved by her si
ncere, warm manner.
“You didn’t. You’ve made me feel very comfortable here, in fact,” Emma assured.
“I’ll keep an eye out for you. When you’re finished, I’ll show you to Vanni’s suite. He said to put you there.”
“Thank you,” Emma said, watching as the housekeeper left her to her tea.
In truth, she hadn’t looked worried because she was thinking of what Mrs. Denis had said about Vanni’s tone of voice when he spoke of her. It’d been the mention of the dinner they’d be attending tonight that reminded her uncomfortably that she’d told Vanni to return all the clothing he’d so generously bought her. Had he carried out her request or ignored it? He’d told Amanda in his message that she needed only bring herself, and he’d have everything arranged for her. She’d taken him at his word, bringing only some bare necessities and toiletries. Now that she was here in these glamorous surroundings, however, she started to “get” just how truly out of place she’d be wearing one of the sundresses she’d brought.
A half hour later, Mrs. Denis led her down an arched-ceiling, whitewashed stone hallway to a closed door.
“Oh, how lovely,” Emma breathed out when she followed the housekeeper into the room. Like the rest of the house, it was flooded with sunlight from an entire wall made of French doors. It was a large, wide-open room, simple in design, containing a huge iron bed with pristine white bedclothes, two armchairs, and a sofa situated before an ancient-looking fireplace and a fantastic carved antique armoire made of dark stained wood. She saw the large trunk Marco had brought from the plane next to the armoire. Flowers were everywhere, cut ones arranged skillfully on the mantel, bedside, and on the table in the seating area. They were also living ones outside on the shallow terrace beyond the French doors, waving in the sunshine. In the distance was the brilliant azure sea.
“Do you have everything you need?” Mrs. Denis asked her after she’d showed her the bathroom suite and how to regulate the temperature in the room.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Vanni says it’ll be a late night. Why don’t you rest?”
“I’ll definitely try.”
The housekeeper smiled and left her. Emma took a quick shower and freshened up in the bathroom, then changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top. Instead of drawing the drapes like Mrs. Denis had showed her, she opened a pair of French doors and crawled into the sumptuous bed. She pressed her cheek to one cool down pillow and inhaled deeply. Not finding what she craved, she switched pillows, smiling contentedly as she nestled deeper.
She fell asleep to the sound of the wind rustling in the trees and the sea in the distance, the scent of Vanni filling her nose.