GHOSTS OF ST. BARTS a totally addictive romance read (St. Barts Romance Books Series Book 5) (3 page)

Sunny looked up from her cutting board. She couldn’t dice and carry on a conversation because the knives were so dull she was certain she’d slice open her thumb.

“You still haven’t cashed the cheque my father left you in his will. It’s been years.” She was convinced Raisa slept on a cash-stuffed mattress.

“I don’t trust banks. If you still lived here, you wouldn’t either. They are all bandits. Come and stir the borsht.”

“Are you having a banquet? Who’s going to eat all this food?” Sunny asked, adding a pinch of salt and some pepper to the broth.

“You are,” answered Raisa, straightening up to her full four foot and eleven inches. “You’re too thin.”

“Not if you live in California. There I’m a giant. The women there are so tiny it looks like their necks aren’t strong enough to carry their heads. Their legs look like they will crumble under the weight of their bodies.”

“Bah! Men like women with some meat on their bones. Sven still likes you?”

Sunny caught the concerned glance. “Yes. He still likes me. Don’t worry,” she said with a laugh. “We’re very happy. As a matter of fact,” she added shyly, “we’re hoping to have another child.”

Raisa put down her wooden spoon in order to properly embrace her
moyesta princessa
— her little princess.

“That makes up for you not bringing Bliss.”

“I have an idea for how you could see a lot more of the baby. Every day if you want.”

“You’re moving back home! To Moscow!”

“No. But I was wondering if maybe you and Misha would like to live with us in Los Angeles. We have loads of room and I’d love you to help me raise Bliss. Misha could finish her schooling — it’s not that long now before she graduates. I want you both in my life, in our lives.” She was beginning to tear up. “I found you after all this time and I don’t want us to grow apart again.”

Raisa was at a loss for words. Leave Russia? Move to America? She was old enough to remember when America was the enemy. She was too old to pack up and move half a world away. Or was she?

* * *

“Don’t say anything. I can tell by your face you don’t like it.”

Astrid looked around the concrete and steel penthouse loft that stood in the most desirable neighbourhood of Oslo. If she could afford it, this was the apartment she would pick.

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s beautiful. But it doesn’t feel like a home. Can you imagine Bliss crawling up that open staircase? And we could never leave the doors to the balcony ajar. It wouldn’t be safe.”

Astrid barely heard his words. She was still trying to adjust to the sight of Sven nuzzling a toddler. When he showed up at her office with his daughter she had offered to find a sitter but he insisted it was going to be her house, so Bliss should have a say. Apparently Astrid was going to have to comb through the files to find something that was toddler proof. Added to finding the right property for a celebrity, it was a tall order.

“How about something in Bygdøy? The residence of the former Canadian Ambassador to Norway is new on the market. That should appeal to Sunny. It’s huge, with boat moorings and tennis courts. It’s only ten minutes from the center of the city, near the King’s Forest and the memorial to the victims of the Thai tsunami. It comes with acres and acres of gardens and a gatehouse. It’s on the market for twenty million dollars but I think we can get it for slightly less.”

Sven blanched. “We don’t need an estate, Astrid.”

“But you’re a movie star. You’ll want something big and glamorous and expensive.”

“I haven’t explained myself well enough, I guess. It’s not your fault.” Sven pulled out his cellphone. “Here are some pictures of where we live in Los Angeles. It’s gorgeous but it’s also a home, a place for the baby to be outside and get dirty and for Sunny to cook. I want the same feeling here.”

Astrid scrolled through the photos that were snapshots of family life. Sunny holding her daughter in a large, black tiled pool surrounded by tropical plants. A Great Room with pine floors, the walls decorated with expensive looking art, but underfoot a minefield of children’s toys. A ‘jolly jumper’ standing in a huge but messy kitchen where cookies cooled on racks.

A dog with a head shaped like an egg sprawled in a sunbeam beside a crib placed in front of a beautiful mural. There was Sven napping on a four-poster bed beneath a crystal chandelier, the photo marred, thought Astrid, by the grubby-handed baby fisting his hair.

This is how they live, she thought. These pictures of ordinary everyday life were very different from the imagined fleets of limos and armies of servants.

“The pictures help. I don’t think I can find anything like this in Oslo. But I can find you something more down-scale.”

“I don’t want to be too far from my mother and I need a space away from the kid and the dog to write. Other than that, I’m easy. Also, this is an anniversary present, so I don’t want a long closing.”

An anniversary present. Astrid was helping him make his wife happy. The irony of it! She bit back a grimace.

“I’ll go through the listings when I get back to the office. There may be one or two that might work.”

“After lunch,” he said firmly.

Sven had always drunk beer and she was surprised when he ordered a bottle of wine. This was something new. So was his attitude to the food. He insisted they go to one of Oslo’s top French restaurants and spent time asking the waiter questions about the plats du jour. Astrid eyed him over the top of her menu. This wasn’t her Sven. To her Sven all food was fuel and he was perfectly happy with a burger and a beer.

Her Sven would never have been seen in public with a diaper bag and a toddler in tow, and would certainly never have disappeared with a grin to the bathroom to change this toddler unaided.

Her Sven would never have calmly sipped his wine and forked his pickled herring appetizer with one hand while using the other to cradle his child and feed her a bottle of juice.

The other diners smiled but Astrid felt uncomfortable. She rarely ate out with her children; certainly not in high-end restaurants before they learned which piece of cutlery to use and how to keep their voices lowered.

Sven wasn’t annoyed when Bliss started fussing. He dipped his finger in his wine and touched the bottle’s nipple so that she settled at once.

He grinned at her. “She loves the taste but so far, only of white wine. I’ll have to wait till she’s out of diapers to introduce her to Cabernet. She’s toilet trained during the day, but with all the travel lately, she’s kind of reverted a bit.”

“I thought you never wanted children.”

He laughed in agreement. “Remember how we used to talk about how family would only hold us back? Now I know it keeps you grounded. Bliss is a gift. But you have your sons. You know that.”

Astrid pondered this. When had she ever thought of her sons as gifts? She remembered being pregnant with Liam. She had been utterly miserable and her mother had disowned her. For a while she’d considered giving the baby up for adoption. But at the last minute, holding the squalling, red-faced infant in her arms, she hadn’t been able to go through with it. Nils was only occasionally there, breezing in and out for special occasions. The father of her younger son had helped out religiously, but she’d never wanted to make a home with him. So the boys had always lived with her, visiting their fathers for holidays. It was what worked best for all of them. Her sons were a part of her but she saw them as an obligation, a duty. Maybe if Nils had been as involved and doting as Sven, maybe if she’d been different herself, not so driven to make her career, she might have seen them differently.

She found the emotions this conversation aroused exhausting. Sven picked up on her mood.

“Nothing’s wrong. My eldest, Liam, is seventeen. A difficult age.”

“You should ask my mother what I was like back then. I was a hellion. But then you know that. We’ve known each other for decades.”

“We have,” said Astrid, “though I don’t feel like I know you anymore.” What was she saying? She never blurted out her thoughts. It must be the wine. She was unused to alcohol at lunch and it was loosening her tongue. She hadn’t had this type of conversation with Sven for years. Usually they would meet up and make small talk until they could make love. The memories were more sad than comforting. They could have been real friends if only she’d realized.

Sven reached out to take her hand. “You probably don’t know me now, but you will. Sunny and I hope to spend a lot of time in Oslo from now on. You’re a big part of my life here, along with Ed and Stellan.”

A tall, angular stranger wearing a three-piece suit was sauntering over to their table. “My, my. Isn’t this the happy tableau.”

“Nils! I didn’t know you were still in town,” Astrid said, her spoon clattering into the empty soup bowl.

“I delayed my departure. A meeting I couldn’t put off.”

The man held out his hand to Sven who wiped away some baby mess and shook it.

Astrid made the introductions in a strained voice.

“Liam’s dad, right? We haven’t met. I’m Sven Larsen, an old friend from university. And this,” he said gesturing to his sleepy child, “is my daughter, Bliss.”

“So I see. Catching up on old times?” The man raised one golden eyebrow over an eye that was ice blue.

“Sort of. Astrid’s helping me find a house. My family and I plan to spend the spring and summer in Oslo and then hopefully get back on a regular basis. It’s good to be home again and spend time with old friends.” He smiled at Astrid, hoping to diffuse the sudden tension.

“I won’t interrupt your reunion. It was
fortuitous
meeting you, Sven. Astrid, call me. We have unfinished business to discuss.”

She watched as he sat down with a group of men in tight-fitting business suits, exchanging handshakes and cordial laughs. How had he known where to find her — them? Her office? Nothing Nils did was ever casual or unplanned.

“What was that all about? I thought you got along well with the boys’ fathers.”

“I do. But as I said, Liam is at a difficult age.”

Astrid began to question Sven about his real estate plans, keeping an eye on Nils’s table. When he left, she saw him slip some cash into the hand of the maître d’. Mystery solved. But it didn’t matter. He knew where to find her when he wanted to, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.

Chapter 4

“It’s perfect.”

“Judith, please. You needn’t be polite. It’s the ugliest house I’ve ever seen!” said Astrid. “Sven, I took you at your word. You wanted something for a family with lots of space and you wanted to be close to your mother. This is the biggest place I could find but — it’s hideous.”

Sven smiled, holding up his daughter and surveying the woods surrounding the back yard.

“We’ll be happy here. You don’t know how good Sunny is at transforming a house into a home. She’ll love it. It’s four blocks from Mother, walking distance to the university pool and there’s a park not far away.”

“I may be talking myself out of a commission, but you have to admit it’s not pretty.”

“No. You’re right. It’s not.”

And it wasn’t. The house was a jumble of every architectural style imaginable. There were vaguely faux Tudor wooden beams on part of the exterior and a New England style porch tacked onto the front. An entrance hall led into what Judith guessed was supposed to be a front parlour, an octagonal room with Edwardian bow windows.

But the back convinced Judith it was the right house for them. The last owner had knocked down walls and turned what had been a warren of tiny rooms into a single huge space. It would be perfect for an open plan kitchen and family room. Behind it was a solarium big enough to put a dining table.

There were two staircases to the upper levels. One was off the kitchen — perfect for late night baby feedings. The other staircase led off the entrance hall. Upstairs were six bedrooms and one ancient bathroom.

At the top, an attic ran along the length of the house. Sven imagined polished floors and a desk positioned beneath the eyebrow windows in the eaves. Skylights, lots of them, and built-in bookcases. There would be a copy of ‘The Scream’ on an easel for inspiration. This would be a great place to write, he thought, away from the noise and distractions of everyday life and yet his family would be close at hand.

The house needed a lot of work.

“Mother, are you ready to oversee a renovation project?”

Judith rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “I’m sure your wife will have a few ideas of her own.”

“We’ll have to get her a new journal. I also imagine we will have to put up a fence for the dog.”

“And a play set and a wading pool for Bliss,” said Judith, her imagination catching fire. “But this house feels like it could be home.”

She waited as he pondered and watched as the huge smile stretched across his face. He tossed his exuberant daughter into the air. “This is your new house!”

Bliss giggled.

* * *

“You won’t believe how much time I’ve lost on my laps. Boris was furious and made nasty cracks about my big breasts holding me back.” Sunny was back from Moscow, telling them all about her adventures, and how she had met up with her old swimming coach. He was in his seventies now, retired but just as critical.

“I love your breasts and losing time is a small price to pay, don’t you think? And how is Raisa? Will she and Misha be joining us in Los Angeles?”

“She’s thinking about it. It would be a big move for her. Raisa never acts impulsively. I didn’t see much of Misha; she was busy with her studies and friends. But I think they will move to California eventually. The fortune teller said so but added ‘not in time.’ I’m not quite sure what she meant by that.”

Judith looked up from her eggs, surprised. “You went to see a fortune teller in Moscow?”

“One of Raisa’s neighbours. She swears the woman has second sight. When I was young, she predicted my life would be surrounded by golden warmth.” Sunny regarded the different shades of blonde of her husband, mother-in-law and daughter. “She was right, though the warmth could be St. Barts and California.”

“What did she predict this time?” asked Sven, pulling her down on his lap as she cuddled their child.

She had only been away a few days, but she had missed them all so much. Her family, she thought with a smile. “Madame said there will be three healthy, happy children.”

“Then we’d better get started on number two don’t you think?” asked Sven inhaling her fragrant hair and lifting the curls to kiss her neck.

“That’s my cue.” Judith reached for her granddaughter. “Bliss and I are going shopping for a new snow-suit. She can’t keep wearing her cousin’s hand-me-downs. She may be younger than Charlotte’s Jenna but she’s taller and her feet are already a little bigger.”

“Blame my wife for the big feet.” Sven deflected the elbow to his stomach.

“We will be gone until mid-afternoon. I trust the two of you can find something to occupy yourselves?”

* * *

After they made love Sunny lay in Sven’s arms. “What is it?” he asked. “Something’s bothering you.”

“Misha. She avoided me. We hardly spent any time together and she even stayed over at her friends’. She said it was so I could have her room, but I think it’s more than that.” Sunny snuggled in the crook of his arm. “I’d hoped that when she came to St. Barts for the wedding we could become close again.”

“Maybe when they come to LA. What else is on your mind?” he asked, searching her face.

“Three children. She said I’d have three.”

“Not quite the soccer team you dreamt of.” He tucked her hair behind her ears.

“It’s not that. What if one of the three was the child we lost — Bliss’s twin?” She bit her lip as she remembered the sad time when she had miscarried. Bliss was the surviving twin she hadn’t known was there.

Sven wasn’t worried. “She said three happy, healthy children. So we have two more to go.”

The tension left her face and she smiled.

“Now, about number two . . .”

* * *

“Do you think Judith shooed us out of the house so she could arrange a surprise party?”

Sven didn’t bother with denials. “She’s almost as bad at keeping a secret as you are. Now I get to give you my anniversary present.”

“It’s a little cold to make love in the car.” Sunny smiled and took a wrapped gift out of that overflowing bag. “Me first. By rights as my mentor, you should have given this to me.”

Sven tore off the wrapping and laughed when he saw the book. It was the Kama Sutra. He flipped through the pages. She could see his eyes glittering in the light from the street lamp as he scrutinized the various positions.

“It’s a good thing you’ve kept up with your yoga and Pilates. You’re going to have to be real supple for us to try some of these.” He turned the book sideways. “This one’s not possible.”

Sunny laughed. “You have to stretch and warm up first.”

They exchanged a kiss, casual, and then growing more intense. “Now your present,” he said.

Instead of reaching into the glove box or the back seat, Sven turned Sunny’s head and pointed through the steamed up car window. She knew the neighbourhood, it was one she had explored on her daily runs and walks with the baby.

“Come and see our new house.”

Her seatbelt was off and she was out of the car, looking around expectantly.

“This one. The old one with the porch.”

Her eyes widened and she clutched his hand. “For us? When we move here this spring?”

“And for many years to come.” He took hold of her hand and ran with her up the broken walkway, pausing for a kiss on the rickety porch. He lifted her up into his arms, opened the door and carried her over the threshold. She stood for a moment on the marble checkerboard floor in the entrance hall.

“Surprise!”

Light from a tipsy, half-lit chandelier illuminated her family and friends lined up on the staircase all the way to the second floor. She accepted the hugs and kisses, blinking back the tears as Bliss giggled and Judith’s dog Frigga ran around barking excitedly. For the third time in her life Sunny thought, “I’m home!”

There was music, laughter and chatter and tables groaned with food. This house is already filled with love, thought Sunny, as she strolled from room to room with Sven by her side. He handed her a green leather-bound journal. The words “Our Oslo Home” were embossed on the cover.

Stellan joined her in what she thought might eventually be the master bedroom, if they took out some walls and added an en suite bathroom. A window seat looked out over a view of the backyard.

“It’s like an archaeological dig.” Stellan was pulling back layers of wallpaper to reveal flocked red velvet flowers, covered by something vinyl in a garish orange paisley pattern.

Sunny had her cellphone out, shooting a video of his treasure hunt, laughing as each era and its taste in home decor came to light.

Astrid watched from the doorway, a tall blonde boy standing at her elbow.

Sunny stopped filming and went over to her guests with a welcoming smile. “You found us our home! Thank you!” Astrid submitted stiffly to her hug.

“This must be Liam,” said Sunny. “You look so much like your mother.” He wore the beginnings of a scraggly beard and his face was still a little unformed, like unfired clay. But Sunny could see that he would grow into an extraordinarily good looking man.

“Liam wanted to meet Sven. He must have seen
The Barbarian King
a dozen times and even wrote a paper about the Gauls and the Romans.”

They left Stellan in the closet, hooting as he tore back a layer of linoleum. His muffled voice could be heard saying, “There are gorgeous hardwood floors underneath.”

Sunny slipped her arm through Liam’s and led him down the hall, past dangling wires and bare sockets, questioning him about his studies and future plans. No-one noticed Astrid’s grimace as she took a heartburn pill from a bottle she kept in her purse and slipped it between her lips.

Sunny led the boy over to Sven, who was talking to Ed and his wife.

Sunny felt Liam stiffen. “Don’t be nervous. He’s not that scary in person. Plus my husband and your mother are old friends.”

Liam trembled but Sven was used to dealing with awestruck fans and took the time to make the boy feel at ease. He turned to Astrid and gave her a welcoming kiss.

Sunny was disconcerted to see the look that passed across Judith’s face. Her eyes were focussed almost angrily on her son with Astrid and the boy. Before Sunny could find out what was wrong, she was called away. Frigga had made a mess in the front hall. Too much cheese, she thought, the moment already forgotten.

Once she had cleaned up the dog’s leavings, Sunny plied Liam with food and a beer.

“He doesn’t have any plans after graduation,” she whispered to Sven.

“Who?”

“Liam. Maybe you could use a hand writing the script or running errands. I think he’d really like that. He seems fascinated by the movies.”

Sven had often been pressured to find work for relatives and friends of friends and had never given in. Maybe this time . . . he thought. Once Liam had gotten over his initial nerves, he talked and laughed easily with the other guests.

“She has turquoise eyes!” he exclaimed on being introduced to Bliss, who was half asleep after her long day.

Sunny swung the toddler onto her hip. “It’s kind of a mixture of my eye colour and Sven’s, I guess. You look so much like your mother, only your colouring is slightly darker. Does your dad have darker blue eyes and more yellowish hair?”

“No. He’s as fair as my mother. She says some distant cousins have my colouring so I guess I’m a throwback to that side of the family.”

Bliss yawned and reached out for the tall, blond teenager. “Dada?”

Sunny laughed. “When she’s really sleepy, she calls every man she meets ’dada.’ Don’t feel weird.”

Liam offered the toddler a finger and smiled as she grabbed it with both hands. “She’s gorgeous, and what a perfect name.”

“Not when she’s grumpy — like now. It’s way past her bedtime. I’ve spoken to Sven. Not promising anything but there may be a part-time job around here when we move back this spring. I don’t know what it would entail . . .”

“I’ll take it!”

“It may not be glamorous.”

“My dad’s in investments. Anything’s better than all those numbers.” He shuddered.

“Tell Astrid to keep in touch and we’ll let you know what comes up.”

“Tell Astrid to keep in touch why?” She was suddenly beside them, her manicured hand around the stem of a wineglass.

“We might have a summer job for Liam, helping Sven.”

Sunny could see the woman’s fingers tighten as the wine rippled slightly. Astrid was even paler than usual, but all she said was, “I’m sure he’d enjoy getting to know my old friend from university.”

* * *

Judith looked up from the kitchen counter. “Why are you limping?”

“Blame Sunny. That damn book.”

“Position one hundred and thirty-seven,” said his wife with a smirk, spooning oatmeal into Bliss’s waiting mouth.

Judith turned to the sink full of dirty dishes so they wouldn’t see her blush. Curious, she had thumbed through the Karma Sutra, which she’d found on their bedside table, and was surprised they hadn’t pulled a muscle or sprained some sex organ long before now.