Page 97 of This Woman Forever
I continue, passing under the trees, being sporadically hit with bullets of sunlight through the branches, until I make it to the closed gates. Taking hold of two bars, I look through onto the country road outside. How many times have I passed through these gates? Entered my haven?
Except, it’s not my haven anymore.
I think for a few moments before reaching into my pocket and pulling out the gold embossed business card. Spinning my mobile in my grasp, I start walking back to The Manor, punching in the phone number.
Do it, brother. Do it.
But no matter how hard I try to press down on the dial icon, something is stopping me. Guilt? I wish I could be done with guilt.
The trees above rustle as I walk on, and I squint when a bolt of light shoots through a gap. I shield my eyes, lifting an arm, blinking back the black dots as I slow to a stop. The moment I can see clearly again, I see something else new. A bench. It’s set back between two trees halfway down the driveway, tufts of grass climbing up the wooden legs. I let out a short, sharp huff, turning my body toward it. How have I gone so many years not seeing things that are right under my nose?
Wandering over, I lower to the old wood, running my palms over the flaky surface. It could do with a sand and paint. I smile to myself, resting back, taking a moment. Listening to the nature I’ve never heard before, birds tweeting, squirrels doing acrobats through the branches, the odd fox screaming in the distance. Here at The Manor, I’ve only ever heard moans of pleasure, seductive laughs, small talk. I look at the card again, tapping it on my knee.
Talk to John.
I get up and pace back to The Manor, pausing at the door for a second to admire the sparkly gold knob. I can see my face it in before I encase it with my hand and push my way inside. I notice the landscape pictures on the walls mounted in heavy, chunky gold frames and move closer. They’re not random landscapes. They’re of the grounds of The Manor. I laugh under my breath. Carmichael’s way of getting members to appreciate the exterior while being on the inside? The only way these pictures would be appreciated is if they were hung on the ceiling of the communal room. I turn, admiring the staircase that sweeps elegantly up to the first floor. The round table in the center on the entrance hall that I’ve only ever seen a vase of flowers on.
John appears from the summer room. Stops. Looks me up and down. “Drink?” I ask, motioning to the bar. His raised brows are warranted as he follows me in and perches on a stool. I round the bar, getting us a water each.
“Have you thought anymore about Sarah?” he asks, wrapping his sausage fingers around the glass when I slide it across to him.
Not really. I’ve had other things on my mind. “You mean since I said a clear no to her yesterday?” I remain on the other side of the bar, lifting an eye to look at him. “You heard that, right?”
“I heard.”
But he’s still hoping. “I don’t know if my marriage will sustain it, John.”
He nods, thoughtful. “She’s sorry, you know that.”
“Yeah, I know that.” Whether that be because she’s lost everything or not, I don’t know. “She wanted to see Ava. Apologize.”
“If anyone needs to talk to Ava about this, it’s you.”
“Oh, I know,” I say, taking some water. “But we’re just back on track, John, and I’m not sure I want to rock the boat.” I pull out the card and slide it onto the bar.
John looks down at it. “What’s that?”
“A card.”
“I can see it’s a card.” He pushes the tip of his index finger into the cardboard and drags it towards him, removing his shades with the other hand, reading it, silent. Then he exhales and pushes it back.
“Well?” I ask.
“Well, what?”
“He said he wanted to buy The Manor.”
“I know.
I stand up straight. “What do you mean, you know?”
“I mean what I say, and I said, I know. He manages the property acquisitions for a luxury leisure company.”
“Wh—” I snap my mouth shut as John dips his chin, drumming his fingers on the bar. “You saw him loitering too?”
“I saw him,” John confirms.
“And what did you say?”