Page 38 of The House on Sunset Lake

‘I’m flying to New York tomorrow.’

‘Oh.’

She looked at his expression for any sign of disappointment but she could see none.

‘Do you think it’s going to work? This long-distance thing?’

‘I’m quite looking forward to it. I like the idea of being able to write letters.’

‘Love letters,’ he teased.

She blushed. ‘I’m not sure Connor will be into the idea of it, though.’

‘I see him as more of a fax man,’ agreed Jim, smiling. ‘But you’re right. Letters are good,’ he said softly. ‘You can send me some when I’m back in London.’

She looked up and could see Sylvia on the terrace. She was wearing her tennis dress and was shielding her eyes as she looked across the lake, as if she was tracking them.

‘You don’t have to come in,’ she said, with gentle warning.

‘No pool, then?’

‘We’ve got a lake right here,’ she grinned.

‘All right,’ he said as he began to pull off his T-shirt and jeans.

‘What are you doing?’ she shouted.

‘Having fun!’ he yelled, running towards the water and diving in.

Jennifer shook her head and started laughing, but she could almost feel a laser beam of frostiness emanating from the terrace. Raising her hand to wave goodbye to her friend, she turned and hurried back to Casa D’Or.

Sylvia had gone into the kitchen by the time she arrived at the house. She was standing by the sink, sipping some water from a tumbler.

‘I got you something from the city,’ she said without any enthusiasm, motioning to a bag from one of Savannah’s smartest boutiques.

Jennifer crossed the room and took out the garment from the folds of tissue paper. A teal-blue silk dress fluttered from her fingertips.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she said.

‘I thought you could take it to New York,’ Sylvia said crisply.

Jennifer looked at her, wondering if it was the right moment to ask her to be interviewed for her documentary, but Sylvia had already put the tumbler on the countertop.

‘I’d better go and have a shower,’ she said, and Jennifer decided to leave her request for another day.

Chapter Twelve

‘So why’s it called Labor Day, if everybody has a holiday?’ asked Jim on the other end of the receiver.

‘We’re celebrating why people work and the contributions they make to the prosperity of our country,’ replied Jennifer, tucking her phone under her chin and staring out of the window towards the Lake House. ‘And it’s sort of the last official day of summer, so I guess it’s reminding some people that they’ve got to go back to work.’

‘Will there be turkey?’

‘You’re thinking of Thanksgiving.’

‘So what happens?’

‘There’ll be beer. Lots of people spend the weekend at the beach.’