“I know. I can feel it.” She cast her eyes around the drawing room, at the other guests who sat in small clusters drinking cups of tea and nibbling on little egg sandwiches, and wondered whether they felt it, too.
“I can’t believe my father will actually agree to sell.”
“He doesn’t want to, Clementine.”
She looked at him seriously. “It’s that bad, isn’t it?”
“I think so. I wish there was some way I could help.”
“Me, too.” She placed a hand on his arm. “But there isn’t. All we can do is support—and hope the Ruebens loathe the place.”
He grinned at her sadly. “Unfortunately, that is impossible. The Polzanze has a certain magic you don’t find very often.”
“A magic Marina will take with her if she has to leave. They’ll end up buying a shell.” She walked over to the glass and looked out onto the sun-drenched gardens. “Fancy taking Biscuit for a walk?”
“You’ve read my mind, Clementine. There’s nothing I’d like to do more.”
Clementine spent the weekend by Marina’s side, protecting her from the hyena’s barbed comments and making fun of her behind her back to make her stepmother laugh.
But it was of no consequence that Celeste had enjoyed her painting lessons or that Charles had relished going out in Grey’s boat and catching fish, because if they liked the bones of the hotel and bought it, they’d gut it anyway, as they had done to all their others, and change it in every way.
On Sunday, Grey and Charles spent a great deal of time in the library discussing books. Then the door was shut and they remained there until lunchtime, and no one knew what they were talking about. Marina had had enough and refused to join them. She sat in her kitchen with Clementine, Rafa, and Biscuit, drinking cups of strong tea and eating the shortbread Celeste had declined to taste. “I know he’s making Grey an offer he can’t refuse,” she said, wringing her hands.
“He always has the power to refuse,” said Rafa hopefully.
“Not if we’re broke.” She sighed. “There, I’ve said it. You might as well know, Rafa. We’ve borrowed up to our eyeballs, and we’re simply not making money.”
“But the place is full now,” Clementine protested. “We must be making money.”
“Unless you have a fairy godmother who can wave her wand and give us a great big cash injection, we are incapable of paying back the money we owe.”
“There has to be a way,” said Rafa.
Marina shook her head. “If there is, I haven’t managed to figure out what it is.” She began to gnaw the skin around her thumbnail, for that wasn’t entirely true. There was a way; it had occurred to her many times in her most desperate moments. At first it had just been the frantic meandering of a desolate mind. Then, as the possibility of losing the Polzanze had become a reality, those meanderings had grown more direct and strategic.
Yet, beneath her desire to rescue the hotel was a need more visceral. At first she had been too afraid even to contemplate it, but little by little the idea had grown into a possibility and her heart had filled with hope. Was her plan to save the hotel merely an excuse to enable her to go back and right that terrible wrong? She pictured the little box at the top of her cupboard and shivered at the prospect of stepping back into her past.
Clementine confused her shudder for helplessness and took her hand. Marina smiled at her feebly.
At last the Ruebens left in their chauffeur-driven Bentley, and Grey appeared at the kitchen door. Even Biscuit lifted his head to hear what he had to say.
“Well?” Marina asked. But she could tell by the doleful expression on his face. “Oh God, he’s made an offer, hasn’t he?”
Rafa caught Clementine’s eye. They were both thinking the same thing. They turned to Marina and watched powerlessly as she seemed to wither before their eyes.
“Is it a very big offer?” she asked in a trembling voice.
“It’s the biggest offer we’re ever likely to get,” Grey replied. He was too ashamed to admit that part of him felt relieved that there was at last a way out of their financial nightmare.
“What are you going to do?”
Clementine squeezed Marina’s hand. “You can’t sell, Dad. There has to be another way.”
Grey sighed and scratched his head. “I can’t think of one.”
Marina closed her eyes. In that brief moment she saw her life flash before her. She watched the building of the home she cherished as if it were a reel of film passing across her mind. Harvey and she were laughing as they painted the hall; Mr. Potter was mowing the lawns on the new tractor they had bought; Grey was coming down on weekends and admiring the progress; they were sitting in the greenhouse as the rains battered the glass, chewing on Mr. Potter’s digestive biscuits, discussing what plants to buy and where to place them. They had planned together: she, Harvey, Mr. Potter, and Grey. They had been a team, a family. She had realized her dream with the very force of her will and watered it with love. It had grown bigger and more beautiful than she could have ever imagined. No one was going to take it from her. Not now. Not when she needed it the most.