As You Wish (The Summerhouse 3)

$1000 reward for the Satin Bandit. Please call me.

One by one, every male in town had crossed out phone numbers and put his on it.

It was that place Olivia wanted to see. The house held no memories, except that she and Kit had thought it was beautiful. She saw the back of the house first. Three stories with a long, one-story addition to the side. They’d agreed that would be Kit’s office. The idea was that he’d work there, but the truth was that neither of them could imagine being in the same house but rooms apart. They had so very much time to make up for. They’d been together for one glorious summer, then separated for decades. Too much time lost!

Quietly, slowly, she walked past the house, then looked back at the front. There were lots of different heights of roofs from all the additions that had been tacked on over the years. One tall window had a rounded top. It was said that in the 1930s that had been an artist’s studio. In the ’50s it had been made into a kitchen and that’s the way she and Kit had left it. They hadn’t wanted an island—which to the two of them was a modern concept—but a table where one could sit while the other cooked. She wasn’t tempted to peek in the windows to see the restoration work.

To her right was a little round brick building. It had been used to store garden equipment, but Olivia and Kit agreed that it was too pretty for that. So far, they hadn’t decided what else to use it for.

Ahead of her was the old bridge. It was weathered and splintery, but caught in the grain of the old wood were flecks of the blue paint that had once covered it. That day she and Kit had made love on the island, he said, “It should be lacquered red. Twenty coats of it.” Laughing, kissing, she’d agreed with him. Lacquering the bridge red was on their list of things they planned to do.

She took her time crossing, remembering every second of that long-ago day. She’d ridden piggyback on Kit across the bridge. The island was small, created by the man who built Camden Hall. The river, deeper back then, had been widened to form a large pond in front of the house. The excavated dirt had been piled in the center, the edges reinforced with stone.

In its heyday, it must have been a fisherman’s dream.

At the far end they’d found the remains of what may have been a hut, something to sit in while waiting for unsuspecting deer to come to drink.

Kit had said it was a place for lovers to meet.

At their age, all it had taken was the mention of “lovers” to get them to tear off their clothing. They’d tossed them on the ground at the far end of the island, then fell down on the mossy surface that had once been a fisherman’s hut or a place for lovers to meet or the purpose Olivia liked least: a place to hang deer carcasses.

When she got to the end of the bridge, she looked around. The landscaping had changed. Years ago, it had been kept mowed and there was a path edged with little woodland flowers. Now it was just weeds and overgrown trees that darkened the place.

She raked her shoe through the grass until she saw the bits of gravel. Stepping over some stout fallen branches, she went to the far end of the island. The foundation stones of the little building were nearly covered now, but they were still there.

Bending, she touched one, smiling at the memory of that day. She could almost feel their lovemaking. Hear it. Smell it. Feel the sun coming through her clothes. Kit’s strong young hands on her breasts. Her head was back, wanting more and more of him. To become one with him. Body, mind, and soul.

Suddenly, she became dizzy and had to sit down on the stones. A bit of sunlight came through the trees and she held out her hand to it.

How different! she thought. In her mind, she remembered smooth, pink skin. But the sunlight showed lines, veins, and a couple of those brown spots that no amount of sunscreen could prevent.

She snatched her hand back. Balled it into a fist and for a moment, she closed her eyes.

Over forty years, she thought. That’s what she and Kit had lost.

She stepped up onto the stone foundation. On impulse, she lay down on it and looked up at the trees. On their honeymoon, Kit had talked about his diplomatic service, even about the three scary years when he’d infiltrated young Gaddafi’s new regime. He told her of the months in the hospital after an armored vehicle had rolled over with him in it. His pain and rehabilitation had been excruciating.

Olivia talked of running the appliance store and how she’d opened more stores. She’d discovered that she had a knack for business.

What they didn’t talk about were their marriages. They’d decided that one afternoon in Paris. They were sitting at one of the lovely outdoor cafés having coffee and Kit started telling about the birth of his son.

“When I held him in my arms, I didn’t know I could feel such love. He was red faced and hairless, but I thought he was the most beautiful thing ever put on the earth. And Gina was—”

He broke off when he looked across the table at Olivia. She was smiling, but there were tears running down her cheeks. His son had not been their child. It hadn’t been Olivia in that bed.

Kit took her hand in his and kissed the palm. “There was no one else,” he said softly. “It has always been us. Together or apart, just us.”

Olivia was swallowing hard, trying not to let the tears overwhelm her. They’d had full lives. They just hadn’t been with each other.

Kit kissed her index finger. “What...” He kissed her second finger. “The hell...” Kissed her ring finger. “Am I going to do...” He put her little finger between his lips. “With that bloody theater?”

His question made her laugh and the tears disappeared.

It was a relative who’d brought Kit to Summer Hill in 1970, and it was another relative who brought him back many years later. Kit told her he hadn’t been worried about returning and possibly seeing her. He’d thought that if he did meet her, he’d feel nothing. Surely, a

ll those years apart, with the lives the two of them had experienced, would make that one summer seem long ago and far away. Maybe they could even laugh about it. Become friends.

But it was the opposite. Kit saw Olivia walking on the street and everything fell away.