As You Wish (The Summerhouse 3)

Regret, Olivia thought as she looked about the little restaurant. On a TV talk show she’d seen that morning, the young, perfect-looking interviewer, her hair unnaturally shiny, asked the old actor if he had any regrets about his long life in show business.

Of course he said no. He’d had a great life and wouldn’t change a thing. What else could he say? That he regretted his marriage to wife number two, who took everything he’d worked for during his forty years in film? That he wished he hadn’t made the three really bad horror movies when he was broke? What about the twelve years he’d wasted when he was in a drugged-out, alcoholic stupor? But then the critics agreed that he was a better actor when he was drunk. After rehab, he became serious and dull. A costar notoriously said that bourbon seemed to be his fuel to joy.

But he said he regretted nothing. I’ll drink to that! Olivia thought.

What would she say if that interviewer, her dress tighter than the skin of a snake and about the same size, asked Olivia what she regretted in her life?

“Sex,” she’d say. “I missed out on those precious years of young sex. Shoved up against a wall, slamming away in the front seat of a car with the gearshift ramming into your back, sweat dripping off your noses, the sun coming up and you’ve been at it all night, and the next day you’re so sore you can hardly walk. That’s what I regret missing in my life. One summer of it was not enough!”

She imagined the interviewer’s face, her HD makeup that made her look plastic, freezing in place. Would she be stern and say, “That’s not what you’re supposed to answer”? Would the network bleep out what Olivia had said? Would Robin Williams smile down from Heaven and say, “You go, girl”?

To Olivia, one of the great mysteries of life was why young people believed that sex wants, needs, thoughts, cravings—any and all of it—disappeared with age. When did a person go from being “hot” to “cute”? “They’re such a cute couple.” That’s what kids automatically said about people past the age of... She wasn’t sure when that was reached. And at what age were you supposed to forget that you’d ever had sex? Forget those days you spent naked by the pond. The smell of the grass crushed under your body. The water so warm and seeping into crevices, then him licking it away. Kids were shocked if a person over fifty mentioned anything sexual. At what age did a person revirginalize?

“Hello.”

She looked up to see a big, tall young man—at least young to her—midthirties, possibly older. He was quite good-looking, and his eyes had a kind of feral energy that Olivia guessed would get him whatever he wanted. The shirt and trousers he wore looked casual, but she could tell that they’d been custom-made for him. But the smooth outward appearance of him seemed studied, as though he were an actor playing a role.

“Are you Mrs. Montgomery?” His words were spoken in a newscaster’s voice, with no real accent. But she would put money on it that it wasn’t the way he spoke when he was a kid.

“I am. And you’re from Dr. Hightower?”

“Yes. Do you mind?” Politely, he waited for her to motion for him to take the chair across from her. He sat down, then nodded for a waitress to come to him. As Olivia had guessed, the young woman arrived quickly. When he gave his order for black coffee, Olivia was glad to see that his eyes didn’t linger on the pretty young waitress. Nor did he speak until she’d left. “Jeanne—Dr. Hightower—said you would take us to the house.”

“I will, but we need to wait for the other tenant, Elise, to get here. I got a text from her and she should be here in a few minutes.”

When the waitress put the coffee before the man, she set down a plate of little lemon cookies. “They’re on the house. For—”

She glanced at Olivia. “For both of you.”

Olivia knew the girl’s mother and it took only a quick squint of her eyes to make the girl go away. When she looked back at the man, she wondered if he was as oblivious to the attention of the waitress as he seemed.

“I guess Jeanne told you that I’m Ray Hanran.”

“I was told little more than your names, but I did assume that you and Elise are friends.”

“Oh no,” he said, “I’ve never met my new housemate. There was supposed to be an older woman staying with us, but she dropped out.”

Olivia couldn’t help frowning. “I know that the other guest is quite young.”

“Is she? I have no idea. You know Jeanne. She tells you little about anything.”

“Actually, I don’t know her. It was my husband, Kit, who asked me to escort you two to the Camden Hall estate.”

“Estate? That sounds bigger than I thought it was.”

“Jeanne’s summerhouse is one of four small houses on what used to be a fairly grand property.” Olivia was concerned about the arrangements. “Does this young woman, Elise, know that she’s spending the weekend with a man she’s never met?” She gave a pointed look at the wedding ring on his left hand.

The way he smiled showed that he knew what was in Olivia’s mind. “I don’t know what she’s been told. None of this was my doing. It took Jeanne weeks to make me believe I should stop work and go to some cabin nestled in the woods.” His eyes widened. “You don’t think this is like a dating service, do you? Meant to match me up with some lonely young client of hers?”

The way he leaned back in his chair made Olivia think he was going to leave—which would disappoint Kit greatly. “I really don’t know anything,” she said quickly. “My husband was called away to DC and he sent me an email saying a psychologist, Dr. Jeanne Hightower, was sending two of her clients here for a long weekend. He asked if I would please meet you two in this restaurant and lead you there. It’s not easy to find.”

Ray frowned. “I don’t understand any of this. I’m having...” He took a drink of his coffee and seemed to consider whether or not to confide in her. “I’m having some serious marital problems and Jeanne was recommended to me. I’ve been going to her for weeks, but I haven’t made any progress in my decision about what to do. I was planning to quit therapy, but then Jeanne started nagging me to go to Virginia to spend some time at her summerhouse. I finally gave in and here I am.”

Suddenly, a look of abject terror came onto his face. “This isn’t one of those retreats, is it? Where I’m supposed to wear a white robe and talk about my...my feelings?”

Olivia couldn’t help a laugh at the fear in his voice. “It’s not. The house is a pretty little three-bed, three-bath, and it was empty for years. I wasn’t even aware that it’d been sold. I’ve lived in Summer Hill all my life but I’ve only been on the grounds of Camden Hall once, and that was many years ago. But now that I live there—”

“You live there, but you’ve only seen it once?”