The Last of the Stanfields(54)
“When she talks about you, you can hear in her voice how much she admires you.”
“Darling, that’s very thoughtful to say, but I don’t believe it for one second. Sally-Anne thinks only of herself. She has such hatred for her own family . . . There’s nothing but bitterness in her heart.”
“If you think that, you don’t know her at all. Not really. You think I’m thoughtful? Sally-Anne’s the queen of thoughtful! She spends all her time thinking about other people. Sure, she was born into money. She could have just put her feet up and enjoyed the easy life, but she didn’t. She chose not to. Yeah, she’s rebellious, but always for noble causes, all against the injustice of the world.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were in love with her, the way you talk.”
“Please, Edward, don’t be silly.”
“Very well, then,” he sighed. “Message received. Don’t speak ill of my sister, or else run the risk of getting my head bit off.”
May took Edward by the arm and led him back to the manor.
“Let’s head back inside,” she said. “I’m thirsty, and I think we should get drunk. I can’t stand Sundays. I wish this weekend would never end.”
“Not to worry, dear. It’s far from the last.”
“Of course. As long as we take it slow. I got the message loud and clear, what you said about . . . what was her name again? Zimmer, was that it? I don’t know anything about her, but I know I don’t want us to end the same way. Do you still have feelings for her?”
“Ha! Oh, you women and the traps you set for us. If I say no, I’m a swine. If I say yes, I’m king of the swine. I think you’ve got the right idea: enjoy what life has given us, without rushing to ask questions, especially about past romantic entanglements. Which reminds me: you haven’t told me a thing about yours.”
“That’s because there’s nothing to tell.”
The couple entered the manor and settled into the smoking room for a nice cozy drink, the fire crackling in the fireplace. May ordered a glass of champagne, while Edward opted for bourbon.
Around sunset, they returned to the room and packed their bags. May stopped halfway through and took a long look around the room. She had slept so soundly in that massive four-poster bed, gazing up at the silk canopy the next morning with Edward sleeping softly beside her. She’d opened the thick window curtains, and the sunlight streamed in over a gorgeous room-service breakfast. May savored the divine sensation of walking barefoot on the Persian rug. She never wanted to leave.
“Can’t we stay until tomorrow?” she asked Edward as he folded his things. “I just can’t imagine walking back into that loft tonight.”
“Sorry to say, I have to work early tomorrow, darling. But since we’ll get in late in any event, why not spend the night at my place?”
“Under the same roof as your parents? In their home?”
“It’s more of an estate, really. I have my own quarters, May. Believe me, we can stay there and not cross paths with them at all.”
“Even tomorrow morning?”
“We can leave through the service door—there’s nothing to worry about, honestly.”
They made incredible time in Edward’s Aston Martin on the way back. The car smelled of leather, and the roar of the engine was exciting.
“Would you promise me something?” May said.
“I have to know what first, my dear. I’m a man of my word, and I don’t take promises lightly.”
“I want you to make up with her.”
“With Sally-Anne? It’s true there’s some tension there, but there’s nothing specific to reconcile.”
“No. I mean all of you, the whole Stanfield family. Sally-Anne would never take the first step, and neither would your mother. It has to be you. Help them make peace.”
Edward slowed the car and looked at May, a broad smile on his face.
“I can’t promise it will work . . . but I can promise you now that I will try. I will try my very best.”
May leaned in and kissed Edward, then pulled away, telling him to keep his eyes on the road. She rolled down the window and breathed in deeply. With her hair blowing in the wind, May closed her eyes and felt something close to happiness.
23
ELEANOR-RIGBY
October 2016, Baltimore
We parted ways out on the landing, both of us waving good night from the doorways to our own rooms. Lying on top of my bed, all I had to do was close my eyes and I could picture Maggie asking me:
All right, genius. Now what?
And since I was clueless as to the answer, I decided to call her. Dial 9, then 011, just like the lady at the front desk said—as if I had never been abroad before!
My sister picked up straightaway. “Jesus! You have any idea what time it is here?” Maggie grumbled, her voice hoarse and scratchy.
“I’m sorry if I woke you both up, but it just couldn’t wait.”
“It’s just me; Fred stayed in Primrose Hill,” she replied, with a long, drawn-out yawn. “It was crazy busy last night, and he closed too late to make his way over here.”
“Good for him, if his restaurant can drum up that kind of business.”
“Oh yeah, la-di-da. When my boyfriend’s on cloud nine because of a full house at the pub, I get to sleep alone. But when things go south and he’s down in the dumps, I get him all to myself. Who could possibly ask for anything more? Anyhow, I’m guessing you didn’t ring me at five in the morning to hear me gripe about Fred.”