Lies and Weddings(75)
“Yeah, the doctors demand it at least three times a week. You like cherry tomatoes and burrata?”
“Love them.”
“Where did you come in from?”
“England.”
“You just arrived?”
“Straight from the plane.”
“Mr. Tan doesn’t get many visitors. Those lawyers from the Philippines and you have been pretty much it.”
“His son hasn’t been here?”
“I didn’t even know he had a son.”
“Yes, Luis Felipe.”
“I dunno…maybe he came earlier, before I started.”
“You didn’t start when they first rented the house?”
“No, I replaced the first chef. Mr. Tan wasn’t happy with Yotam, so they got me by promising to make a huge donation to my favorite charity.[*4] It was supposed to be a short gig. They told me he wouldn’t live past the month. And now I’ve been here four months! Not that I’m complaining—it’s given me time to work on my book. I’m glad Mr. Tan’s still around. He’s a nice guy. You know he’s endowing the new pediatric cancer wing?”
“I heard about that.”
“You know what else he did? Tammy, one of the night nurses, her daughter got into an accident. Some asshole in a Ford F-150 was texting and rammed right into her. Broke her collarbone and totaled her car. Mr. Tan paid all her hospital bills and bought her a brand-new car. A Volvo SUV, can you believe it?”
“I can.”
“So how do you know Mr. Tan?”
Thomas paused before answering. “Just old friends.”
He refilled his orange juice and took it back to Rene’s room, sitting down by his bedside. The patient’s eyes were closed, but he started to speak, startling Thomas a bit.
“Okay…I’ll extend Francis…a hundred-million-dollar line of credit…from one of my banks. But I want the title…deed to Greshamsbury Hall…in my hands.”
“Fine. He will be very grateful.”
“You know I’m betting…he loses everything. I’m betting I get…that house.”
“I know,” Thomas said grimly. He got up, walked outside, and stood by the side of the pool in the sweltering midday sun, watching the water flow over the edges into a hidden drain. He sent a quick text to Francis: Thomas Tong: Rene said yes. $100 million to tide you over.
Francis Gresham: Oh thank god. THANK YOU!!!
TT: You’re welcome.
FG: You’re a miracle worker.
Not quite, Thomas thought to himself. He looked back into the house and saw Samin carrying a big wooden platter of pizza toward the dining room. He wished he had answered honestly when she asked him how he knew Rene. Something about the way Samin looked at him made him want to tell her the truth. He wanted to tell her, I know Rene because of my dead brother.
But of course he did no such thing. Thomas Tong was a great doctor, and an even greater keeper of secrets.
Skip Notes
*1 In 1987, The New York Times proclaimed Houston’s South Boulevard the “most magnificent residential street in America.” Wes Anderson fans will also recognize the street from his film Rushmore.
*2 Dr. Biekert is lying, of course. It’s Houston we’re talking about here—it was at least ninety-five degrees with 90 percent humidity.
*3 > Ninety-eight feet = superyacht > Two hundred and thirty feet = megayacht > Two hundred and ninety feet = gigayacht
*4 NoKidHungry.org.
IX
THE COTTAGE
GRESHAMSBURY, ENGLAND ? LATE MORNING
Eden left the café and stumbled up the country lane toward her home in a daze. She felt like she had just been pushed off a tube platform and right into an oncoming train. What had just happened? One minute she was having a morning coffee with Bea and the next thing she knew she was literally being banished from the village where she had grown up.
Her first instinct was to reach out to Rufus. She sent him a text, but she could see on her phone that her text wasn’t reaching him. Rufus had been off the radar all weekend, and the last she had heard from him was a text last Friday evening, when they were supposed to meet for dinner: RG: You won’t believe this. My plane got diverted and now I’m being waylaid by another of Mum’s schemes.
ET: Where are you?
RG: Paris, but we’re taking off again for god knows where.
ET: Tahiti?
RG: I hope not. Sorry about dinner, I’ll make it up to you.
ET: Don’t worry about it. Safe travels and see you soon.
Eden could see now that her last message to him hadn’t gone through either. She didn’t know what to make of his text, and she wasn’t sure whether or not to reach out to him now. As much as she hated to admit it, everything had changed since that last night on the island. As furious as she was with Arabella, Eden was forced to wonder if she had been right in a way. Was it all her fault? Did she unintentionally make herself an object of temptation and lead Rufus astray? Did she commit the ultimate act of betrayal to the Greshams by distracting the future earl, who was always destined to marry someone of equal social standing?
Since Eden was very young, she’d had an intuitive awareness of her place in the Gresham hierarchy. She knew that while Arabella didn’t mind her becoming friends with her children, there was an invisible line that could never be crossed. As a little girl, she could take tea with the children in the nursery, but she was never to be seen at the house whenever the grand people came down for the weekend. In her teens, she was always invited for sleepovers and camping trips, but she had never holidayed abroad with them at any of their resorts. She played tennis all summer long with Rufus and Augie and Bea, but she never once joined them in the Royal Box at Wimbledon. She wasn’t to the manor born—she was the girl next door, the daughter of the family doctor, nothing more, and she knew her place well. The minute she was presumed to have stepped beyond her place, she was smacked down hard. Now her thoughts wandered to her father, as she worried about how he would react when he heard about what had transpired with the countess. He would surely be hurt and offended on her behalf, and it would no doubt complicate his relationship with the earl, his dear friend, and Arabella, who was his patient. Perhaps it would be best if he heard it all from her first, before any of the village gossip trickled down to him. It was a blessing that he was out of the country at the moment. It would give her time to prepare exactly how to tell him, and maybe if she didn’t seem too affected by it, maybe if she pretended to laugh it off as another of Arabella’s quirks, he would be less bothered. Perhaps she should send a preemptive text. She knew he was in Asia, and as she took out her phone, wondering whether it was too late to call him, another text appeared on the screen. It was from Deepa Poovadan, her supervising physician at the hospital, and the message read: Eden, I have spoken to the team. Best you take the week off.