Southern Belle. Fiona Hood-Stewart
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Elm smiled briefly. “I guess there isn’t one. I’m just not as worldly as you, Gio. I need to adjust. It seems kind of…I dunno.” She shrugged once more and downed some more coffee.
“Whatever.” Gioconda shook her head. “I have to go.” She blew Elm a kiss from the door. “Just don’t take forever making up your mind about Viscount Graney. It’s—” she glanced at her watch “—my God, already the twenty-second of December today, and the vacation will be over in a couple of weeks. If I was you, I’d make my mind up fast.” She winked. “And remember, men are only good to have fun with. Enjoy it while it lasts. No commitments, no until-death-do-us-parts, just plain old fun.”
“You make it sound like I just want a handsome lover.”
“Frankly, cara, I think a handsome lover—and from the reports I’ve heard, Johnny’s pretty remarkable in that department—is exactly what you need.”
“Reports?” Elm squeaked, suddenly uncomfortable. It made her feel cheap, another notch in a well-used belt.
“Oh, stop getting uptight.”
“But you said—”
“Niente, nothing to worry about—” Gioconda waved dismissively “—just things one hears along the grapevine.”
A car horn hooted outside and Gioconda grabbed her anorak from the chair. “I have to get this show on the road if I want to catch the chopper. Bye, bella, have another coffee and relax. And remember, you’re not in Savannah anymore, there’s no need to be looking over your shoulder wondering what people are thinking. It’s your life. Live it. Ciao.” She waved goodbye.
The phone rang just as Gioconda closed the door, and Elm could hear Umberto’s deep voice answering the call. Her heart beat faster as she wondered if it was Johnny.
Confirmation came thirty seconds later. “Buon giorno, signora, the telephone is for you.” Umberto handed her the portable phone with a little bow then disappeared into the kitchen. Elm managed to quiet her pulse, but couldn’t suppress the grin covering her face from ear to ear.
It was at lunch on the sunny terrace of the Sonnenhof—a gorgeous chalet atop a mountain above the village of Saanen with a cozy wood interior, low pine beams, a killer view and food to die for—that Elm realized just what a hypocrite she’d been that morning. For sitting across from him, slowly sipping her Kir Royal, she couldn’t stop her vivid imagination from picturing them together, preferably somewhere quiet and undressed. The thought was deliciously shocking.
Johnny had picked her up at ten sharp and they’d driven up to Shönried, then done several runs down the Horneggli before ending up, well exercised, at the Sonnenhof. They’d laughed a lot, she reflected with a satisfied little sigh. Perhaps their conversation wasn’t terribly profound—they certainly hadn’t dug into world politics, which, after Harlan, was just fine by her—but he was amusing, charming and easygoing. Being with him wasn’t a strain. She didn’t have to think of what to say or wonder if he thought she was stupid, as she so often did with Harlan’s supercilious Washington cronies and the pseudo-intellectual group he liked to have hanging around him, parroting his opinions. This was simple, and reminded her of who she really was. Gio and Meredith were right, she concluded, she’d become so focused on catering to Harlan’s every whim that she’d lost touch with herself.
They had just ordered when she saw two men approach the table. One was of medium height, sandy-haired, in his mid-thirties, and obviously American, the other a boy who could only, she decided, be Johnny’s son. They were like peas in a pod, she reflected, realizing with a stab of nostalgia that it was like seeing a replica of Johnny all those years ago.
“Elm, this is my brother Liam, and my son, Nicky.”
“Hi.” They shook hands.
“Mind if they join us?” Johnny asked.
“Of course not.” She moved over on the corner bench and smiled invitingly at Nicky, who eyed her warily then sat down. Liam and Johnny sat opposite.
“So, you’re from Georgia?” Liam inquired.
“Savannah.”
“Beautiful city.”
“Dad, can I order a Coke?”
“Of course.” Johnny hailed the waitress. “I guess you’ll be having your usual, guys?”
“Yep.” Liam leaned back and smiled. “Only decent steak you can get in this town. He brings the meat in from Argentina. That’s the trouble in Europe, you can’t get—”
“Did you ski with my dad?” Nicky asked her suddenly.
“Yes, we skied the Horneggli.”
“You must be good,” he conceded reluctantly. “Dad’s a pretty advanced skier.”
“And you?”
“I snowboard mostly. I’m on the Rosey team.”
“So was your father, if I remember rightly. The ski team, I mean.”
“You went to Rosey?” Nicky eyed her with new respect. “Bet that was a while ago, huh?”
Johnny met Elm’s eyes and they laughed. “It certainly doesn’t seem nearly twenty years, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t,” Elm agreed, determined to include Nicky in the conversation.
“My mother was at Rosey, too,” he said. Elm caught the edge of defiance in his tone.
“I know. I remember her. She was very beautiful and had great grades. She won the prize for drama, I recall.” She noticed the quick look exchanged between Liam and Johnny. Something wasn’t right. There was an uneasy undercurrent when Marie Ange was mentioned. She could almost feel the tension coursing between Johnny and his son.
Liam was studying his cell phone. He sent her an apologetic glance. “Just need to check some stock prices. Haven’t had time this morning. This vacation has put everything on hold.”
“Uncle Liam, get a life,” Nicky exclaimed.
“Nicky’s right,” Johnny said. “Leave that damn phone at home, Liam, and enjoy yourself. Elm, we have this major family problem here.” Johnny leaned toward her, laughing. “Liam never has time for anything except work. We’re trying to convert him—unsuccessfully, I might add—to pleasure.”
The lunch proved to be deliciously entertaining. Elm enjoyed the interaction between the brothers, amused at how different they were, the one so dark, Irish and aristocratic, the other a strong-willed workaholic American businessman. And Nicky. He was sweet and bright and sulky and all the things she imagined an adolescent would be.
They left the restaurant ready to hit the slopes, although after a huge steak à l’ ardoisek, a couple of Kir Royals and two bottles of delectable local Swiss wine, Elm was amazed any of them could even move. Nicky challenged her to a run and by the end of the afternoon they’d become fast friends. She made him promise to show her some of his snowboarding moves before she left for the States. By the time Johnny dropped her off at Gioconda’s chalet, she was wonderfully tired and ready for a hot bath.
“It was a delightful day, thank you. Your brother and son are great.”
“How about tonight?” He leaned back against the car door and eyed her thoughtfully.
“I think I’ll take a rain check. I’m pretty beat and I have some calls to make to the States.” It was ridiculous, of course, to refuse his invitation when she’d like nothing more than to accept, but she needed to catch her breath, to assess just where she intended to go with all this. A quiet evening seemed like just the thing.
“You’re sure I can’t persuade you? We could go to the movies, if you don’t want to be late. I could see what’s on and call you,” he said, his smile deliciously persuasive.
“Well,