Santorini Sunsets (20 page)

“If you print one word that I was drinking alone in the cabin…” Brigit's eyes flashed.

“I told you I wouldn't cause trouble.” Nathaniel paused. “Though I do remember you hiding my bottle of Absolut and saying it was for my own good.”

“You kept it next to the breakfast cereal,” Brigit retorted. “You know I never drink except for a martini or glass of wine at dinner.”

“Then why are you starting now?” Nathaniel raised his eyebrow.

Brigit sank onto a cream leather sofa and her mouth trembled.

“I can't tell you.”

“Do you remember when we were nine and you saw your housekeeper break your mother's porcelain vase at Summerhill?” Nathaniel asked. “You didn't want to tattle on Inez but you felt terrible your mother had lost her favorite vase.

“I finally convinced you to tell her the whole story. You discovered Inez had already confessed and Sydney wasn't upset at all.” He paused. “Nothing is as terrible as it seems if you tell the truth.”

Brigit fiddled with her diamond bracelet and took a deep breath.

“Blake's banker said Blake invested two million dollars in the Palmer Foundation,” she said. “Blake nor my father never mentioned it.”

“Two million dollars.” Nathaniel rubbed his chin. “Not bad for a boy from Ohio who couldn't afford airfare to California.”

“It's not the amount of money, it's that he didn't tell me,” Brigit explained. “He's excited about everything the foundation will accomplish but he never said he was already involved.”

“He's certainly full of surprises,” Nathaniel mused.

“You promised you wouldn't say anything bad about Blake,” Brigit snapped. “He could spend his money on expensive artwork and flashy cars, instead he cares about issues and does something about it.”

“Everyone's definition of success is different but that doesn't mean he's doing the right thing,” Nathaniel said softly.

“What do you mean?” Brigit asked.

“Whatever reasons Blake has for hiding things, they are not as important as telling the truth.”

Brigit pictured romantic dinners at Per Se and the Four Seasons. She thought of their plans to build libraries in Asia and Africa. She remembered Blake whispering he'd never thought he'd get married and now he knew it was the most important thing in the world.

“There has to be a reason.” She jumped up. “I'll go ask him.”

“I have a better idea,” Nathaniel said suddenly. “Why don't you ask your father?”

Brigit gazed at her crystal shot glass and flinched. Her father had always been proud of her accomplishments. He'd rarely missed a tennis tournament and took her to lunch at the Metropolitan Club after her law school graduation.

But when Brigit was unsure about a boy or did badly on a test, she went to her mother for advice. She didn't want her father to think she and Blake weren't madly in love and everything was perfect.

“I guess I could.” She hesitated.

“Your father is one of the most honorable men I know.” Nathaniel ran his fingers over a marble bust. “I'm sure he can explain everything.”

“I've been so busy planning the wedding, I've hardly seen my father since we arrived in Santorini.” She bit her lip. “I'll talk to him right now.”

Brigit put the shot glass in the sink and smoothed her skirt. She walked to the stairs and turned around.

“Did you forget something?” Nathaniel asked.

Brigit smiled. “I was just going to say thank you.”

*   *   *

Brigit walked onto the deck and saw her mother leaning against the railing. She held a crystal champagne flute in one hand and a porcelain plate in the other.

“Darling, you've outdone yourself,” Sydney exclaimed. “The mulberry treats are delightful and the eggplant moussaka is delicious.”

“I'm glad you're enjoying yourself.” Brigit stood beside her. “Have you seen Dad? I wanted to ask him a question.”

“He had to send an urgent e-mail.” Sydney sighed. “Apparently the yacht has a communication room with computers and a dozen phone lines.”

“Oh, I see,” Brigit murmured.

“Was it important?” Sydney asked.

Brigit gazed at the steep cliffs and beds of pink azaleas. She saw blue domed roofs and white stone churches. In two days she was getting married on a spectacular Greek island and it was going to be the happiest day of her life.

“It can wait.” She turned to her mother and smiled. “You're right, everything smells heavenly. I think I'll get a plate of Santorini cucumbers and lamb skewers.”

*   *   *

Daisy glanced around the yacht at women wearing emerald and ruby bracelets and sapphire necklaces and felt like she was in an ad for Van Cleef & Arpels. She had never seen so many diamond teardrop earrings and amethyst pendants and lapis rings.

She touched her new topaz earrings and thought when she'd boarded the yacht she'd felt so confident. She was going to tell Robbie she'd love to visit Mykonos and Crete. But then she saw women wearing silk tunics and jeweled sandals and wondered if Nathaniel was wrong. There were so many beautiful women in Santorini, why would Robbie be in love with her?

She sipped a glass of champagne and thought she didn't want to talk about skiing in Gstaad or camel races in Dubai. She wished she were sitting in her living room with Edgar and the latest Jane Green novel.

“There you are.” Robbie approached her. “I've been busy taking pictures, I couldn't find you.”

“There are so many gorgeous women to photograph.” Daisy sighed, gazing at two women wearing metallic bathing suits. “I always forget Blake's friends all belong on the cover of
Vogue
.”

“I did see a model wearing a see-through jumpsuit and five-inch stilettos.” Robbie grinned. “I don't know how she'll ride a mule in Therasia.”

“I thought we were just going to circle the island and nibble feta cheese and Kalamata olives,” Daisy said.

“Therasia is a fascinating spot.” Robbie leaned against the railing. “According to Greek mythology, King Thera gave it to his daughter, Therasia as a birthday present. In 1866 they used soil from Therasia to build the Suez Canal and unearthed pottery and a human skeleton. That led them to excavate on Santorini and discover the ruins of Akrotiri and Thera.”

“I can't wait to get off the yacht,” Daisy said miserably. “I'm afraid someone will ask whether I bid on Elizabeth Taylor's pink diamond ring at Sotheby's.”

“They're not all bad, a lot of these people donate money to charity.” Robbie laughed. “Your father started his own foundation.”

“He doesn't pick up a Porsche in Germany or keep his passport in his suit pocket,” Daisy replied. “I heard one woman say she has a home on each continent. She must spend more time on airplanes than in her own bedroom.”

“My sister and her husband have a flat in Notting Hill and a villa in Portugal and an apartment in Paris.” Robbie nodded. “I asked why she needed so many houses and she retorted I was going to inherit the family estate. I didn't have to worry about my future.”

“Nathaniel mentioned you grew up in the English countryside.” Daisy fiddled with her hair ribbon.

“Grayhaven has forty rooms and a moat. We used to spend rainy afternoons trying on armor in the throne room.” Robbie grinned. “The nanny would chase us out and say we couldn't use priceless artifacts in our production of
Ivanhoe
.”

“It sounds like our childhood.” Daisy giggled. “Brigit and I put on my mother's floaty dresses and pretended we were characters in
The Great Gatsby
.”

“We're almost at Therasia.” Robbie pointed to the dark volcano. “Maybe we could explore the town of Korfos together. There are some wonderful swimming spots and the black sand beach at Riva is spectacular.”

Daisy was about to answer when Nathaniel waved for Robbie to join him. Robbie strode across the yacht and Daisy's shoulders relaxed. As soon as they arrived at Therasia she would tell him she would love to go to Mykonos and Crete. He was handsome and charming and when they were together the sun seemed brighter.

She gazed at platters of grilled squid and fried zucchini and realized she was starving. She picked up a plate and stood next to a woman wearing a chiffon dress and silver sandals. Her blond hair was knotted in a low chignon and she wore diamond earrings.

“I see you know Robbie,” the woman said. She had lavender eyes and a soft British accent. “It's such a small world, I didn't know he was the photographer.”

“I'm Daisy Palmer, the bride's sister,” Daisy replied. “Are you a friend of Blake's?”

“I was the ingénue in his first movie.” She laughed. “I thought acting would be fun. But you spend all your time sitting in a trailer and having your cheeks plastered with makeup. I gave it up and joined my mother's design firm in London.”

“How do you know Robbie?” Daisy asked.

“We grew up riding ponies and playing badminton,” she replied, eating a plump fig. “Now he's becoming a young Richard Avedon.”

“He's very talented.” Daisy nodded. “I can't wait to see photos of the wedding.”

“I haven't seen him in years, I'm glad we ran into each other,” she continued. “After the wedding we're going to Mykonos and Crete.”

“What did you say?” Daisy asked.

“He suggested it this morning and I said of course I'd go.” She gazed at sleek motorboats and the clear blue water. “Why would I trade sailing on the Aegean and watching the Greek sunset for London in July?”

Daisy excused herself and ran across the deck. She sunk into a leather love seat and her cheeks flushed. Robbie wasn't in love with her; he just wanted a travel partner to share calamari and the price of a taxi.

She caught sight of Brigit standing at the bar. Her hair was pinned in a loose chignon and she wore pink lipstick. Of course Blake wanted to marry her. Her eyes sparkled and her skin was creamy and she was radiant.

Daisy pictured the sketchbooks piled in her galley kitchen. Why had she considered going to Mykonos and Crete when she was excited about her designs? She was going to be the next Stella McCartney or Tory Burch.

She sipped her champagne and thought about how she was in Santorini to make sure Brigit had a wonderful wedding. As soon as it was over she would go home and schedule an appointment with the buyer at Bergdorf's. Everyone knew too much sun and salt water was terrible for the skin.

*   *   *

Sydney sat at an outdoor café in Korfos and gazed at the pebble beach and curved inlet. The yacht had docked at Therasia and all the guests rode mules to the town of Manolas. But Francis was still in the communications room and Sydney wasn't going to climb on a donkey and be led up a sheer cliff without him.

She sipped a glass of lemonade and felt like she was unraveling. She was terrified Robbie might recognize her and Francis would discover her indiscretion.

She fiddled with her sapphire necklace and thought she could tell Francis the truth. She had been out of her mind with grief and guilt over losing the baby; she hadn't been herself and was terribly sorry. She fleetingly thought of the afternoon at Summerhill eight months ago when she'd arrived unexpectedly and saw his Audi in the driveway and wondered if really there was a point.

But even if she wanted to tell Francis, she couldn't approach him now. They were in Santorini to celebrate Brigit's wedding. It wasn't the time to reveal long hidden secrets like a character on a daytime soap opera.

She could confess to Robbie and beg him to keep it to himself. It was so long ago and she didn't want to hurt Francis or Brigit or Daisy. But what if he told Nathaniel and it ended up in the pages of
HELLO!
?

She wished it were evening so she could sip a stiff Campari. She pictured watching the orange sun slip behind the caldera and thought she should be savoring every moment of being on a Greek island with the people she loved most.

These days they were all together so seldom: Summerhill for the Fourth of July and Labor Day, a long weekend in Bermuda in February. Francis and Brigit were always working and Daisy had difficult hours and they never seemed to be in the same place.

She suddenly pictured Daisy clutching her champagne flute and Brigit saying she needed to ask Francis a question and frowned. They both seemed tense; as if there was something they weren't telling her.

Relationships were so difficult. How could she protect her daughters from getting hurt? Daisy was beautiful and talented but she questioned her own decisions as if she needed someone else's approval.

Brigit usually moved like an actress in a 1950's movie who knew she could have anything she wanted with a tilt of the head. The last couple of days she'd seemed as if she was trying to solve a difficult algebra problem.

Maybe she should tell Brigit her marriage didn't have to consume her; she still had her career and family and friends. But was that really possible? Of course you had to put your husband first, that was the point of the whole exercise.

She gazed at wooden fishing boats and thought even when you tried to do the right thing, you often failed. You buy your husband's favorite macaroons at Bouchon only to discover he's given up sugar, or make reservations at the St. Regis and learn he spent the afternoon entertaining clients and craves a quiet evening at home.

It was a wonder more people didn't get divorced. You can be so confident you know everything about your spouse when you don't know anything at all.

She remembered when Brigit appeared at the Park Avenue town house the spring before Nathaniel walked out. She'd worn an Ella Moss dress and her hair was held back with a gold clip.

*   *   *

“Darling, it's lovely to see you.” Sydney stood at the marble kitchen counter. She and Francis were having a dinner party and she was making coq au vin and peach cobbler for dessert. “I thought you were buried in depositions and you and Nathaniel couldn't make it.”