‘Don’t talk about it like a business asset, Jimmy,’ she said. ‘You know Casa D’Or is more than that. This house has been the Wyatt family home for nearly seventy years. The thought of getting rid of it makes me want to cry.’
‘So is it for sale?’
She glanced at him, then sighed. ‘I didn’t bring you here to play games. Of course it’s for sale, although I’ll be honest with you, Jim. I don’t feel comfortable doing it. You can imagine the whispers about me when David and I got married. People called me a gold-digger, a whore. Part of me thinks that if I sell now, I’m just confirming everything those people believed was true.’
‘So you were the sole beneficiary?’ He chose his words carefully.
Marion nodded. ‘Jennifer didn’t want the house. She always made that clear. Not after what happened. And what do I need a place this size for? If I don’t do something soon, it’s going to fall down of its own accord. David would have understood that, even though he could never quite instruct the realtors himself.’
‘Why didn’t he?’
Marion gave a low, soft laugh. ‘You know there were an awful lot of good memories that happened in this place, not just that one tragedy.’
‘How is she?’ he asked, trying to keep his voice as level and casual as possible. Marion responded with a soft smile.
‘I wondered when you were going to ask. She’s still in New York.’
‘Does she still sail?’
‘Not sure Manhattan’s quite as good for sailing as Georgia.’
He looked out at the water. A shame, he thought. She really had loved that boat.
‘Are you ever in New York?’ said Marion, breaking into his thoughts.
‘Quite a lot, actually.’
Marion laughed. ‘I miss that word, “actually”. You never hear it around here.’
‘That’s what Jennifer used to say.’
‘You should look her up. She’s on the Upper East Side. 61st Street, I think. I’ll give you the address.’
He nodded politely, knowing he would do nothing of the sort.
‘Promise me you’ll look after her,’ said Marion after a moment.
‘Who?’ replied Jim, awkwardly.
‘The house, of course,’ she said, her eyes trailing over the water. ‘She has such a dark history. Not just what happened here that summer. But the past. I’ll never forget the stories my father used to tell me about the plantation, and how the original owners of this place got so wealthy. Dozens of slaves used to live here, harvesting the fields, working the cotton gins. And since the Georgian landowners couldn’t get the workforce from Africa, not legally anyway, they used to smuggle them in, up the creeks all around here.’
She paused and looked at Jim directly.
‘Sometimes I think Casa D’Or deserves to fade away. But David was right when he said there were golden times too.’ A tear glistened in the corner of her eye.
‘So you’ll sell?’ ventured Jim carefully.
‘Yes,’ she said, standing up and taking a long look at the house. ‘Sometimes you have to know when it’s time to let go, no matter how much you love something. Have you ever felt that?’
Jim smiled. But he wasn’t at all sure he had. Not yet, anyway.
Chapter Five
Jim stared at Casa D’Or, unfurled on the table in front of him. Only it wasn’t Casa D’Or, not any more.
‘Thierry, this is an amazing job. Really, truly amazing. I love every inch of it,’ he said warmly, looking up into the eyes of the elderly Frenchman.
‘They’re only plans at the moment, my friend,’ Thierry said, smiling. ‘I am still struggling with the structure: she was built as a private house, not a hotel, but we will overcome. And yes, I think she will be trop belle when we are finished.’