The Summer Seekers

“I promise.”

“My neighbor did it for me.”

Martha ate her risotto slowly, savoring each mouthful. “Why is that a problem?”

“Because he is considered to be a little on the disreputable side.”

“Disreputable. I love the way you talk.” Martha grinned. “What does he do?”

“He enjoys life,” Kathleen said calmly, “a trait that tends to induce a state of envy in those observing his more extreme antics. Envy masquerading as disapproval. He’s a rock star. Highly successful, so I’m told by people who know more about these things than I do. Successful enough to have bought all the land around me and several fast cars. His house is spectacular. Glorious sea views.”

“What’s his name?”

“Finn Cool.”

Martha dropped her fork. “You’re kidding. The Finn Cool? I love his music. I mean, he’s quite old obviously—” Too late she realized that Finn must be half Kathleen’s age. “But I still think he’s great. He booked your tickets?”

“Not personally. He consulted me on my preferences and contacted his manager who arranged everything. He was most accommodating, and I was grateful because I couldn’t bring myself to ask Liza to do it. It doesn’t look good to say I want adventure, and then to be afraid of the internet.”

Martha thought it was adorable. “How did you meet Finn Cool? I thought most celebrities w

ere pathologically private.”

“It was rather amusing.” Kathleen picked up her glass and the bangles on her wrist jangled. “The entrance to his house is difficult to locate. I assume that’s why he chose the property. I’m forever having people knocking on my door asking where he lives.”

“That must be annoying.”

“Not at all. It’s entertaining. I once sent a grubby-looking news hack with a camera across two fields in the wrong direction.” Kathleen leaned forward. “I never trust a man flaunting a large camera lens, do you? One wonders what they’re trying to prove.”

Martha choked on her drink. “I don’t know anyone who owns a camera. Everyone uses their phones.”

“Well, he was one of those men one dislikes on sight, so I sent him on his way. But he somehow missed the notice about there being a bull in the field and had to be rescued by the farmer.”

It was the funniest story she’d heard in a while. “Did Finn Cool know?”

“Not at first. But then I rerouted a car full of young hopeful women to the next village, believing I was helping. Turned out they were guests who had been invited to one of his outrageous parties.”

“How did you find out?”

They called him for directions, and no doubt mentioned the unhelpful old lady who lived down the road. The next day he appeared at my door with a large bunch of flowers and a bottle of excellent gin to thank me for being the dragon at his gates. We drank some of the gin together in the garden and when I told him about the photographer he roared with laughter. After that we agreed that anyone who was a welcome and expected visitor would be issued with a code word that would be changed monthly. That way if someone knocked on my door and didn’t use the right word, I would send them on a long and interesting diversion.”

Martha decided she loved Kathleen. “What’s this month’s code word?”

“I’m sworn to secrecy. But he and I have an understanding. He’s not at all the way people say he is, although it’s true he does have the most enviable parties. There was one occasion when a few of his guests went for a midnight wander and ended up in my garden. Delightful women, although very economical with their clothing.”

“You mean cheap?”

“I was referring to the volume rather than the value.” Kathleen sipped her drink. “One was wearing the bottom half of a very brief bikini, and nothing else. Finn might consider it presumptuous of me to say so, but I consider us to have a friendship of sorts.”

“That’s a great story.” Was that why they’d been upgraded at the hotel? Maybe management thought Kathleen was related to Finn Cool. Hilarious. With luck they’d have rock star treatment all the way. “So you’ve been to Chicago before. How about California?”

Kathleen put her glass down. “Never.”

“This is a dream trip for you?” She could see from Kathleen’s expression that she’d asked the wrong question, and quickly moved on. “I’ve never been to America before. I’ve been to Italy. On a school trip. That’s it.”

Kathleen was staring across the skyline with a faraway look in her eyes.

“Kathleen?” Martha was tempted to snap her fingers to check that she was conscious. “Would you like another drink?”