eavesdrop but what Marcia was saying…it made me feel…’ She paused. ‘But, of course, it’s none of my business.’
‘No.’ There was no way to dress this up, he decided, shoving his sense of disquiet aside. If he was going to sell this place he couldn’t be looking over his shoulder all the time, wondering what Susie was thinking.
‘Angus was so proud of his oranges,’ she said wistfully, and he braced himself.
‘Someone else will be proud of a swimming pool.’
‘It sounds like Marcia will be proud.’
‘That’s right. Though it’s a business proposition. She’ll be pleased if it means we get a good price for this place.’
‘But…’ She paused. ‘If you sell the castle, doesn’t the money go into trust?’
‘It does.’ He’d looked into this. It was a complex inheritance, where the castle was a part of the entailed estate to be handed down to the inheriting earl. Generation after generation. It had been made complex by the burning of the original castle, meaning the capital had been moved here. The trustees would allow sale, but the proceeds would return to the trust.
But he’d earn interest on a very sizeable sum.
‘Will you and Marcia have children?’ she asked. ‘To inherit?’
‘I…’ How to answer that? He thought about it and decided he didn’t have to. ‘I have no idea.’
‘It’s just…would your son prefer to inherit a castle or a heap of depreciating money?’
‘Hell, Susie…’
‘But that’s easy, isn’t it?’ she said sadly. ‘That’s the choice you made and you’ve made it really fast.’
‘What would I do with this place if I kept it?’
‘You could think laterally,’ she said with sudden asperity. ‘Instead of thinking what’s the best way to make money from this place. You’re not exactly needy.’
‘No, but-’
‘But you’ll chop down these gorgeous orange trees. Do you know, it’s five hundred miles to the nearest place you can grow oranges from here? The locals here eat Angus’s oranges all winter. We have the best vitamin C intake per capita of any place in the country.’
‘Gee,’ he said blankly, and she glared at him in the dusk. He couldn’t see the glare, he thought, but he could feel it.
‘You don’t care.’
‘Susie, we both need to move on.’
‘I am moving on,’ she said with irritation. ‘You’re not moving anywhere, as far as I can see. You’re taking your money and bolting back to your safe hole in Manhattan. What is it with you and money? Why is it so important?’
‘Money’s important to everyone.’
‘To provide necessities, yes,’ she snapped. ‘Even enough to buy the odd luxury when you feel inclined. But Marcia says what you earn is way out of that league.’
‘Marcia has no right-’
‘And neither do I.’ She turned her back on him, lifting a branch of cumquats, heavy with fruit. She started plucking the fruit from the loaded branch, making a pile on the bench beside her. ‘OK. I’ll butt out of what’s not my business.’
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m picking your cumquats,’ she snapped again. ‘What does it look like?’
‘What for?’ They were hardly edible. He’d tried one yesterday. They looked fabulous, like tiny mandarins, lush and filled with juice, but the first bite had seen him recoil.
‘They’re great for marmalade.’
‘You can’t cook.’
‘I intend to learn,’ she said with dignity. ‘I’m leaving here the day after tomorrow and I’m taking some of Angus’s cumquat marmalade with me.’
‘So you’ll learn and do it tomorrow.’
‘Why not?’
She was fearless, he thought. A vision of Susie down in the cove was suddenly in his head, a scarred, limping woman, diving full on into the white water and heading for the outer reaches of the cove. Her body strong and sure and determined.
She’d succeed in her landscaping business, he thought. Clients would be lucky to get her. She was so…
So…
He picked a couple cumquats to add to her pile and her body grew stiffer. She had her back to him-he was of no importance to her.
‘Thanks, but I can do this myself.’
‘You just said you can’t cook marmalade.’
‘Neither can you.’
‘But I have a connection to the Internet. I bet we could find a recipe.’
‘So you’ll find a recipe,’ she said, and then decided maybe she was being a bit grumpy. ‘Thank you. I’ll do them tomorrow.’
‘The assessor’s coming tomorrow.’
‘I’ll do it after I’ve talked to him. Or he can talk to me while I stir the marmalade.’
‘You need to pack tomorrow.’
‘I’m almost packed.’
‘You need to swim.’
That made her pause. She hesitated. ‘I…’
‘You do want to swim on your last day?’
‘Of course, but-’
‘But you also want to make marmalade. So let’s make it now.’
The stiffness of her back had lessened and she turned cautiously around. ‘Could we?’
‘I’d imagine we need lots of sugar and lots of jars.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Well, the jars are a given,’ he said. ‘I’d guess we can’t eat more than half a pint of marmalade tonight.’
‘I suppose not. We will need jars.’
‘And my Aunty Molly used to make jam,’ he added. ‘So I know we need almost as much sugar as fruit.’
‘You used to watch your Aunt Molly cook?’
‘I did.’ He sounded uncomfortable-he knew he did-and he saw her hesitate as if she’d ask more. She stared at him, searching his face in the dim light, looking for…
He didn’t know what she was looking for. And, whatever it was, he knew he didn’t want her to find it.
Or he thought he didn’t want her to find it.
This conversation was too deep for him. Way too deep. His thoughts were starting to become knotted, and untangling them was impossible. Chop them off and get on with it, he thought, suddenly savage, and he tugged a cumquat branch toward him and started plucking.
‘If we’re to finish before midnight, then we start now,’ he said, and she waited-and watched-for a moment longer before deciding to play along.
‘Rose didn’t have an afternoon nap so she’s out for the count,’ she said. ‘So’s Taffy. I guess if I go to bed, all I’ll do is dream of uprooted orange trees, so I might as well make marmalade.’
‘Susie…’
‘I know. There’s nothing either of us can do about it.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m being unfair. It’s a very nice offer to teach me to make marmalade. I accept with pleasure. Do you think Marcia would like to help?’
CHAPTER EIGHT
