In Love Again Read Free

ne’er-do-well?”
    “Oh, I doubt that. He was American and smart. And he was on his way to some prestigious American university. California somewhere. I don’t remember. But he was so…intense. And he seemed to fancy me for some bizarre reason.”
    “Why would someone need a bizarre reason to fancy you?” Sarah asked.
    “Oh, stop. I was pale and shy and, oh…” Claire waved her hand in front of her face. “Just a wallflower.”
    Sarah set her champagne glass down on her desk and circled around to her chair so she could look at her computer screen. “What’s his name?”
    “What? Who?” Claire asked.
    “What is Mister I-Fancy-You’s name?”
    “Well, it’s been so long…”
    Sarah stared at her sister-in-law with one eyebrow raised. “Are you really going to pretend that you don’t remember every little thing about him?”
    “Okay, fine. Ben.”
    Sarah stared with ridicule and impatience. “Ben what?”
    “Benjamin Hayek. Satisfied?”
    “Very.” Sarah grinned and started tapping the keys of her computer. As she waited for the results to come up, she asked, “He’s American, right?”
    “Yes. Well his parents were Lebanese, I think, but they were American.”
    “Oooh. Lebanese. Sounds exotic.”
    “This is mortifying. I feel like we’re stalking him,” Claire mumbled.
    “Stalking? You have no idea. This is like the tippiest tip of the iceberg. We haven’t even begun to plumb the depths of all the gritty details. Are you seriously expecting me to believe that after all those years alone in Scotland, you never once logged on to Facebook or Googled him, just to see what he looked like or where he lived?”
    Claire shrugged. “There was no Facebook in the mid-nineties, obviously, and later on, well, I thought I was in a committed marriage, remember? And in any case, I tried to tamp down my curiosity about such things. What would have been the point?”
    “The point?” Sarah laughed and took another sip of her champagne. “The point is that it’s fun. You can see if he’s turned into a pudgy, smug father of three hideous brats or if he’s got a toupee and an ant farm.” Sarah paused. “Okay, there are a few Ben Hayeks.” She hummed and tapped a few more keys. “I’m assuming he’s about your age?”
    “Two years older, I think.”
    Sarah kept typing and clicking. “And what did he do for a living? What was he studying when you met him?”
    “I don’t know what became of him. I think he wanted to be a doctor or something. He was pretty tall. And he had dark hair. His eyes were green.”
    Sarah hummed suggestively. “I’ll say.”
    “You’ll say what?”
    “I’ll say he’s tall, dark, and handsome and has killer green eyes. Is it this guy?” Sarah turned her screen so it faced out toward where Claire was sitting.
     

     
    The four-by-five-inch portrait stared at her. The dark hair was combed into a far more adult style, the green eyes had creases around the edges, and the mouth had a firm set that was the result of experience. And he was wearing a doctor’s white coat.
    Claire leaned closer to the screen and realized her breath was shallow.
    Sarah smiled and said, “So, I’ll take that as a yes.” She swiveled the screen back to face her. “You have excellent taste in men, Claire. Sheesh. He’s awesome. Look at that bone structure.”
    Claire actually blushed and was still blushing when Bronte burst in.
    “All right. What have I missed?” She threw her enormous Prada satchel on the floor near Claire’s seat and leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek. “How are you doing, honey? What’s the latest on Le Bâtard ?”
    Her sisters-in-law had taken to referring to Freddy as Le Bâtard . It had started out as a joke over drinks at Dunlear Castle a few weeks ago, when Bronte decided she no longer wanted to refer to him by name and asserted from that day forward, she would only call him Le Bâtard . “Because,” she had said, “it sounds dastardly and