An Unwanted Guest(13)
She hadn’t enjoyed the meal. She hadn’t liked the way the attorney insinuated himself into a place at their dining table. He was so obviously interested in Gwen. That bothered her. Riley always used to be the one men were interested in, not Gwen. Riley was the striking one, the one men noticed and pursued. Not tonight. Not any more. This, perhaps more than anything else, has brought home to her just how much she’s changed.
But it’s not jealousy that makes her wary of the attorney. There’s something about him. Some memory floating around at the back of her brain, nudging at her thoughts. But she can’t grasp it. His name is familiar; there’s some whiff of scandal about it. She wishes that there were an internet connection here; she could have googled him.
Although Gwen was obviously flattered by his interest, Riley had thrown cold water on their little romance by asking him bluntly about who he was. Judging by the way he clammed up when he found out she was a journalist, she’s pretty sure she’s on to something. He’d skipped dessert and excused himself, saying that he was going to visit the library. Gwen has been quiet since he left.
She’s sorry that Gwen has to be disappointed like this, but Riley has always been protective of her, from the time they were roommates. This weekend was supposed to be about Gwen helping Riley, but Riley has slipped again into her old role. It feels good, especially for someone who has trouble getting through the most basic aspects of her day.
Riley says, ‘Shall we go up? I’m pretty tired.’
Gwen hesitates. ‘I’m not that tired, actually,’ she says. ‘I think I might go stop by the library, get a book,’ she adds, averting her eyes.
Riley is annoyed. ‘I thought you brought a book?’ she says coldly. They both know this is true. They both know this is about Gwen choosing to go up with Riley or to spend more time with the attractive lawyer. Riley wants Gwen to choose her. She wonders what kind of friend that makes her – a protective one, or a needy one?
‘Are you okay going up on your own?’ Gwen asks. ‘I won’t be too long.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about me,’ Riley says curtly. ‘I’ll be fine.’
Friday, 8:25 PM
David finds himself alone in the library, a large room in a back corner of the hotel, to the left of the grand staircase, beyond a sitting room. It’s like something out of a Victorian novel, a cross between a library and a men’s smoking room. Like the bar at the front of the hotel, it’s rather handsome. There’s a large fireplace against the west wall. Above it hangs an antique hunting rifle; above that, a buck’s head with an impressive spread of antlers. It looks down at him with a glassy eye. There’s a worn Persian carpet on the hardwood floor. An old sofa sits at a right angle to the fireplace, a pair of chairs facing it. French doors appear to open out to a veranda, but it’s hard to tell with it being so dark outside. In the corner nearest the door is a large writing desk, which David briefly admires. But what he likes most are the beautifully made bookshelves. David touches them and admires the craftsmanship that went into them. The bookshelves are stuffed with every kind of book – from old, leather-bound sets to hardcovers and tattered paperbacks. It’s all very orderly, with little brass plates reading ‘FICTION’, ‘MYSTERY’, ‘NONFICTION’, ‘HISTORY’, ‘BIOGRAPHY’. He thinks of Bradley – he suspects this is his handiwork. He pulls an interesting-looking book from a lower shelf – a coffee-table book really – full of photographs of the failed Shackleton expedition. It seems oddly suited to this room. There’s a dim overhead light, but now David also switches on a lamp resting on a side table and sits down in the deep leather armchair. What could be nicer than to sit by a fire, in this lovely room, and read about the struggles of the ill-fated crew of the Endurance at the South Pole? But the fire hasn’t been lit, and the room is a bit chilly.
He thinks regretfully of Gwen. How unfortunate that her friend is a damned journalist with the Times. He will stay away from both of them for the rest of the weekend. He doesn’t need anyone dredging up his past.
He becomes absorbed in his book, until he is interrupted by the sound of a woman’s voice.
‘Is that you, David?’
It’s Gwen, and, in spite of his earlier resolution, his heart leaps. ‘Yes.’ He turns to look at her, standing in the doorway, and sees that she’s alone.
‘I remembered you saying you were going to the library.’
How lovely she looks, he thinks, getting up out of his armchair.
‘It’s perfect,’ she says, gazing around the room.
‘Yes, isn’t it,’ he agrees. Somehow he knew she would appreciate it, too.
‘I wonder where everyone is,’ David muses. He feels awkward, adolescent.
‘Riley is tired and has gone up to bed,’ Gwen offers shyly. ‘I think some of the others might still be in the dining room, having nightcaps.’
‘I can ask Bradley to light the fire in here,’ he says. She nods, but he can’t tear himself away from her to find Bradley just yet.
Together they begin to peruse the shelves. He enjoys standing beside her, while the storm rages just outside. After a particularly loud gust of wind they both look towards the French doors.
‘Do you think it’s going to get worse?’ she asks.