Page 87 of The Island Villa

How many times a day did she tell herself the same thing?

She thought about her own parents. “But you’re still their child and that alters the way they see you, and behave toward you.”

“I wish I’d had a straight conversation with them,” he said. “It was only after my father died that I realized he was right about many things. I was chasing money and clawing my way up a ladder I assumed I wanted to climb. Whenever he pointed out that my life didn’t include the one thing I’d loved more than anything—the water—I dismissed it. I thought I knew best. Turns out I didn’t. I wish I’d paid more attention to his point of view. I wish I’d listened more.”

She felt a twinge of guilt. She hadn’t tried that hard to see her parents’ point of view, had she? She’d just assumed they were making a mistake and tried to find a way to make them both see it.

Resolving to try harder, she followed him through the gardens. They were wilder than the gardens in her mother’s villa, less structured, but no less attractive for it. Two large lemon trees pressed close to the path, heavy with fruit.

She was thinking that maybe she wasn’t as physically fit as she’d thought when the path opened onto a pretty terrace and there was the house.

She stopped, enchanted. The walls of the house were a pale stone and the wooden shutters were painted a vibrant shade of blue. Geraniums tumbled joyfully from terracotta pots and a vine clambered over a wooden trellis, shading a seating area overlooking a pool and the beach beyond. She imagined sitting out here on a summer evening, watching the sun set over the ocean. “It’s perfect.”

“I think so. Come and see inside.” He was still holding her hand and she didn’t pull away as he led her into the house.

It was simply furnished, decorated mostly in white with touches of cobalt blue, which reflected the color of the sea and sky that stretched beyond the windows. She could imagine it cool in the summer, and cozy in winter.

The master bedroom had French windows overlooking the terrace and the beach far below, and there was a small second bedroom that he was using as a study.

She blinked. “You use three computer screens?”

“I used to work in tech. There are some things I can’t give up. I still do some freelance work to boost the income from the boat business. I enjoy the variety.” He led her back downstairs to the kitchen and opened doors that led directly onto the terrace. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

He poured two cups, put two diamond-shaped pieces of honey-soaked baklava onto a plate and carried it out to the terrace on a tray.

Adeline slipped on her cover-up and stretched out on one of the comfy outdoor sofas. “This is bliss. The position is incredible.”

“Yes. It’s been interesting seeing it change through the seasons,” he said. “You should see it in spring. The place is covered in wild orchids.”

She assumed it was a random comment, and not an invitation but part of her almost wished it had been an invitation.

What was happening to her?

She took a piece of baklava, tasting the flaky sweetness. “This is delicious. Your mother made it?”

“Of course.” He picked up his coffee. “I could pretend I chose the house for its views, but the truth is I bought it because there are reliable onshore winds in the afternoon. The sailing is the best.”

“I’m just pleased you found somewhere that works for you.” She slid off her sandals and curled her legs under her, nursing her coffee in her lap. “The house must have been here when we came to this beach all those years ago.”

“Yes. But I only discovered it later.” He put his cup down. “What happened after you left all those years ago? Fill in the gaps for me.”

Comfortable in the shade, she told him how she’d gone to live with her father in London, about how difficult it had been to be sent away with no warning. How witnessing her father’s distress had affected her deeply. How her connection with her mother had been torn and never really mended.

And he listened closely, paying attention. “I couldn’t believe you left so suddenly. I asked my mother about it at the time because I was upset that I’d lost my friend.”

She felt a stirring of warmth inside her.

“And what did she say?”

“That your mother was doing the only thing she could possibly do in the circumstances.” He rested his arm across the back of the sofa. “And then she refused to talk about it again. But she started bringing Cassie over to our house often. And when I asked her about it, she said that Catherine had to work. I could never figure out why her father didn’t look after her. Not that I didn’t love little Cass, but it seemed odd to me. Rob Dunn wasn’t working. He used to hang out at the bar on the beach most days. I saw him whenever I went to help my dad.”

Adeline thought back to that time.

“I remember so little about him. I don’t remember spending any time with him when I lived here.”

He gave her a long look. “I often wondered—” He stopped and she frowned.

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