Page 4 of The Island Villa

She pulled out the pages and smoothed them.

Dearest Adeline—

She winced. Everything about her mother was overblown, flowery, exaggerated. The endearment held as much meaning as one of those ridiculous air kisses that people gave each other.

I’m writing because I have some exciting news that I wanted to share with you. I’m getting married again.

Adeline read the words, and then read them again. Married? Married? Her mother was getting married for a fourth time?

Why? If you failed at something repeatedly, why would you do it again? This wasn’t how relationships were supposed to work. Her mother treated marriage like a game show, or a lottery. She seemed to believe that if she did something enough times, maybe one of those times would work out.

She wanted to scream, a feeling she only ever experienced in relation to her mother. Fortunately for her neighbors, she’d trained herself to keep her frustration inside.

She tipped her head back, closed her eyes and breathed slowly. In, out. In, out.

How could anyone ever think she was even remotely like her mother?

The world would see it as romantic, of course. Catherine Swift, writer of romantic fiction and global bestseller, was once again taking a chance on love.

Give me a break.

Who was she marrying this time?

Adeline opened her eyes and carried on reading the letter. Her mother wanted Adeline to join her on the island of Corfu for two weeks in July (total heart-sink. Adeline couldn’t think of anything worse). All travel would be arranged for her, no expense spared (of course, because her mother lacked many things, but money wasn’t one of them).

She went on to talk about the garden, and how beautiful the villa was right now and how good it would be for Adeline to spend some time relaxing because she worked so hard. She mentioned that Maria, who managed the villa for her, was well. Maria’s cooking was as spectacular as ever, and she’d already planned a delicious menu for the wedding. Her son Stefanos was back on the island running the family boat business and maybe Adeline would enjoy catching up with him as they were once such good friends.

Seriously?

It was a remark typical of her mother, who managed to spin romantic scenarios in the most unlikely of places.

Adeline remembered exactly when she’d last seen Stefanos. She’d been ten years old. He was a couple of years older. For a while, he’d been her best friend, and she’d been his.

It had been two decades since they’d seen each other. What exactly were they going to catch up on? Their whole lives?

The information Adeline really wanted—who her mother was marrying—seemed to be missing.

There was no mention of a man anywhere in the letter. Adeline checked and then checked again. Flicked through the pages. Nothing. No clue.

She’d actually forgotten to mention the name of the man she was marrying. Unbelievable.

She gave a hysterical laugh. Had her mother remembered to invite him to the wedding?

Maybe there wasn’t a groom. Maybe her mother was marrying herself. She was, after all, her own biggest supporter.

My books are my babies, she’d once purred into the camera during an interview on prime-time TV. I love them as I love my own children.

Probably more, Adeline thought savagely as she dropped the letter back onto the table. In fact, definitely more. She’d been ten years old when she’d discovered that painful truth.

You’re going to live with your father, Adeline.

The ache in her chest grew. Old wounds tore open. But this wasn’t only about her. She wasn’t the only one with wounds.

What would this do to her father?

Did he know yet? Had her mother told him?

Hands shaking, dread heavy in her stomach, she reached for her phone and dialed his number. It was just after six in the morning on Cape Cod, but she knew her father would already be awake. He rose early and was often to be found on the beach at dawn, taking photographs or sketching, eager to make the most of the morning light and the solitude. Once other people started to appear, he’d return to his little clapboard beach house tucked behind the dunes, brew some of the strongest coffee known to man and head to his studio to paint. Or maybe today was one of those days when he made the trip into town to teach aspiring artists.

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