The Affair: Week 6 Read Free Page B

alabaster grand staircase and windows that went up for three stories. Such a lovely, bright, airy home, Emma thought admiringly as she stared around in awe. Even though the finishes were ornate, there was an openness to the rooms that she spied off the entryway, an approachability. Emma inhaled deeply of fresh sea air and . . .
    “Is that bread baking?” she asked Mrs. Denis.
    The housekeeper smiled. “I am always baking something.”
    “Lucky for us,” Marco said amusedly.
    Down a hallway, Emma saw a huge terrace that was open to the interior. Fresh sea air wafted into the elaborate entry hall. Bright flowers in huge clay pots waved in the gentle breeze on the terrace. Mrs. Denis noticed where Emma looked.
    “Come,” she said in her French-accented English. “You’ll sit on the terrace and I’ll bring you some refreshment. Vanni has told me you drink tea. Some chamomile, perhaps, so that you can rest after your flight?”
    “Thank you, that’d be nice.”
    “I’ll just put your bag upstairs and see you later,” Marco said.
    “Thank you so much,” Emma replied warmly. “For everything, Marco.”
    “Not a problem. You enjoy yourself. I have a feeling you might be able to get Vanni to relax a little, despite the whirlwind of the race,” the pilot said.
    “I’ll try,” Emma said, returning his friendly wave before she followed Mrs. Denis outside.
    “I’ll just go and get your tea and make sure Marco gets something to eat before he goes. He
always
has an appetite. I wish I could get him to share some of it with Vanni,” Mrs. Denis said with a grin before she bustled inside.
    Emma walked out onto the terrace, her mouth falling open in delighted awe. The stone terrace was huge, running the entire length of the house. It was filled with fruit trees, flowers, and seating areas. In the distance, rocky cliffs sharply dropped off, but she caught sight of a white staircase. It must meander down to the sea. Far below them, the brilliant blue Mediterranean took up the entire horizon. It was the most breathtaking view she’d ever seen. She soaked in the sunshine and the stunning view for several minutes, standing next to a three-foot-tall stone wall covered in vines and blooming roses. She inhaled deeply of the sea air. The smell of gardenias and roses wafted into her nose. She could almost see Adrian and Vanni on the terrace as children . . . Adrian staring at the magnificent landscape dreamily while Vanni excitedly described some new adventure for them to undertake. Adrian would have calmed his fire, and Vanni would have infused Adrian with energy and purpose. How was it that she could picture Vanni so easily as an animated, happy child when she’d only ever known him as sober and controlled?
    Resigned to his sadness?
    Perhaps it was because of the trace of wistfulness in his tone when he’d talked about Adrian and him at La Mer as boys. Maybe it was because of the glimpses she caught of him when he made love, and she saw beneath the aloof surface to his fierce, savage soul.
    Her thoughts weighed on her. Why couldn’t he make La Mer his permanent home? Why couldn’t he completely reclaim the happiness he’d once felt there?
    And . . . tell Vanni . . . to forgive himself. I know he thinks it’s his fault.
    Some of Cristina’s final words rose to haunt her at that moment, a sad, poignant reminder in such a sunny, beautiful, peaceful place.
    “It’s lovely, isn’t it?” Mrs. Denis said from behind her. Emma turned from the stone wall and saw the housekeeper laying a tea service on the one of the wrought iron tables. Formerly, “tea” meant a bag and hot water in one of Emma’s mismatched mugs, but since Vanni had entered her life, it was an event.
    “I’ve never seen anything to compare to it,” Emma agreed as she walked over to the table. “How long have you worked at La Mer?”
    “It’ll be twenty-five years this winter,” Mrs. Denis said, setting the delicate antique teapot on the