They walked up the staircase, then went down a long hallway. Izzy wondered what was behind all the doors they walked by. Did he really live alone in this huge place? Granted, what she’d seen of Santa Barbara was gorgeous, but she still wondered what he was doing here.
“Here.” Beau threw open the door at the end of the hallway and set her suitcase down. “See you at dinner. It’s at six. Don’t be late.”
And with that, he stalked away.
Izzy waited until he was all the way down the hall and then pulled her suitcase into the room and closed the door.
And then she leaned back against the door, closed her eyes, and finally laughed out loud. What else could she do? What was even her life right now? Was she in the midst of torpedoing her publishing career? Strangely, she didn’t even care—Marta was never going to promote her anyway, she already knew that. At least she’d get a good story out of this: “Did I ever tell you about the time I broke into Beau Towers’s house?”
Obviously, she’d have to embellish a little bit.
She didn’t think there was any possibility she’d actually spend the night here—she’d have to figure out a way to leave by the time dinner was over—but she had to at least check out this room, for the sake of the future stories she’d tell. She hoped that Beau would carry her suitcase back down all those stairs on her way out.
Priya would die when she heard about this.
“Oh wow.” Izzy walked toward the huge window at the far end of the room. It faced west, so she could see the sun, already making its way toward the horizon, the green downhill slope just beneath the house, the rest of the city below, and the ocean, off in the distance. She felt like she could look out this window forever. She wouldn’t mind having to deal with Beau Towers if she got to have this view for a little while longer. He was a lot easier to deal with than most people in publishing; overt aggression almost felt refreshing after this past year. At least she knew where she stood with him.
Speaking of. She had to get this email to Marta over with.
She dropped down onto the bed and pulled her phone out of her bag.
To: Marta Wallace
From: Isabelle Marlowe
Re: Beau Towers
Hi, Marta—
I talked with Beau Towers a little while ago. He’s still pretty resistant to discussing his memoir, but we’re going to have dinner tonight here at his house and hopefully talk about it a bit more. I’m not sure if I’ll make that flight tonight, so I’ll have the travel agent change it to tomorrow, if that works?
Isabelle
Izzy bit her lip and pressed send. Marta emailed her back almost immediately.
To: Isabelle Marlowe
From: Marta Wallace
Re: Beau Towers
I knew you were the right person to deal with him. Keep me posted.
For Marta, the message was almost effusive. Izzy shook her head and got up to check out the bathroom. She pushed open the door, and her mouth dropped open. This was the bathroom of her dreams.
The floor was blue tile, the walls were pale blue, and coupled with the big window over the bathtub that looked out over the world, it almost felt like she was outside, part of the sky and the water.
And that bathtub. Izzy stepped closer to it. It was a huge, deep, claw-foot tub, with little gold flecks on the feet. Had they originally been all gold? The window was just above the bathtub, so you could enjoy the view while you were in the bath. She couldn’t wait until later that night, after dinner, when she sank into a hot bath with her book and…
Izzy tore herself away from her daydream. She’d forgotten. She wasn’t going to be here after dinner. Part of her wanted to take a bath right now, just so she’d get to experience this incredible bathtub, but it felt weird to just take a bath in the middle of the afternoon in Beau Towers’s house. Plus, she didn’t want to unpack her tightly packed suitcase to dig out her toiletries and shower cap and everything else.
She finally peed, washed her hands, admired the excellent lighting （due to that big window） in the mirror, checked out the shower—which was perfectly nice, but nothing in comparison to that bathtub—and went back into the bedroom. Before this dinner, she had to text Priya.
Omg, Priya. I met Beau Towers. He’s terrible. But. I’m currently in his house???? And I’m supposed to have dinner with him, here, tonight??? And give him a “pep talk”？？？
Don’t ask me how I got myself into this, I have no idea. Actually, no, I THINK I sort of dared him. I don’t know what’s gotten into me?!? Marta is delighted （for her, obvs）。 Will keep you posted.