Chapter 2 Ides Weather
When Tom Somerset awoke that morning, it was with his father’s face on his mind.
He wasn’t sure why exactly. His father had been dead for six years now, and Tom tried not to dwell on that, or on him, too often. Douglas Somerset had been relegated to the occasional anecdotal story in Tom’s world, just an odd fleeting reference, or oft-told family legend, repeated with a soft smile and a warm voice. If his father ever did unexpectedly cross his mind, Tom pushed him away quickly. It wasn’t that he hadn’t loved Doug — he’d idolised him, in fact — it was simply that when he thought of his father a gaping hole seemed to open within him, a wave of sorrow that threatened to pull him under, and he’d decided it was best not to drown in the tide. He clung to the safety of a shore free from Doug’s memory and lingering presence, his eyes kept firmly landward, ignoring the ocean of grief behind him.
Instinctively, Tom reached for Sasha, wanting the warmth and comfort of another person, but she swatted his hand away, keeping firmly to her side of the bed.
“You tossed and turned all night,” she complained irritably. “I’m going to need a bucket of eye concealer just to look presentable today.”
“Sorry,” Tom murmured, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I didn’t sleep well.”
“Mm.” Sasha shrugged, swinging her long legs from their bed and walking to a nearby mirror. “You never do when you’re here. You should go and see Dr Edelstein—he’ll give you something to help you sleep.”
“I don’t want anything to help me sleep.”
“Well, you should,” Sasha retorted. “If you don’t sleep, I don’t sleep. Honestly, every time we visit your mother, you’re exactly the same. A restless and gloomy insomniac. It drives me crazy. Your mother isn’t that bad, Tom.”
Tom watched as Sasha preened in front of the mirror, her hair a glossy mane, her skin smooth and soft.
“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what it is about this place that makes me this way.”
“So, until you find out, see Dr Edelstein,” Sasha retorted sharply, running a brush through her hair. “Then at least I’ll get some rest whenever we’re here, and not spend all night watching you toss and turn.”
Tom nodded, glancing out of the window. The day was dark and gloomy, with grey skies hanging threateningly overhead. It had rained all night, and he could nearly smell the damp, earthy scent of the surrounding countryside. It was a smell he was familiar with, having grown up on this large, sprawling estate. It reminded him of his childhood, of marshmallows roasting over an open fire, of fresh-caught fish wriggling on the line, of his father, standing despondently in the woods, staring up at an ominous sky.
“This is Ides weather, Tom,” Doug says mournfully, kicking at the mud. “Bad things happen when the sky looks like this.”
Doug again. With a start, Tom sat up, telling himself to get a grip. He looked back to Sasha, who was pulling a robe over her shoulders, clearly intent on showering in the connecting bathroom. Suddenly, Tom was overwhelmed with the sensation of not wanting to be left alone.
Bad things happened when he was left alone.
“Come back to bed,” he pleaded softly. “I’ll make last night up to you. And it’s Saturday... we don’t have to be anywhere today.”
Slowly, Sasha turned to look at him, disappointment in her eyes. “You’re kidding, right?” Her tone rigid and stiff with disapproval. “Our wedding planners are here today, Tom. Remember? We have a lunch date with them, and your mother, just after one in the summerhouse.”
Tom fell back on his pillows, exhaling hard. “Right. The wedding planners. I forgot.”
“You forgot?” Sasha was clearly incredulous. “They’re the reason we’re here, Tom. How could you forget?”
Tom shrugged in response. It seemed easier and less likely to cause an argument than to say, I didn’t forget, I just don’t really care. Not that it mattered. Sasha was searching through her hand luggage for her toiletries, completely lost in her own world.
“Your mother is the one insisting that we get married in that wilderness out there,” she carried on, without any attempt to conceal the bitterness poisoning her words, “I wanted the Plaza. Or, at the very least, the Capitale. But no. I get to have a wedding in the woods in upstate New York, shit sticks central.”
“It’s tradition,” Tom said blankly. “My grandparents were married in those woods. My parents were married there. Now, it’s my turn.”
“You don’t need to tell me again, I said yes, didn’t I?” Sasha replied, a hint of impatience in her voice. “If it’s important to you and your mom, well, I guess I can make it important to me too.”
“Thanks,” Tom muttered.
“You don’t need to thank me for being reasonable, Tom. And at least I get to choose the wedding planners myself. If I must be married out there in the mud, we’re going to do it my way, with style.”
“The wedding planners,” Tom mused, standing with a sigh and pulling a towel around his waist. “Who are they again?”
Sasha gave him another one of her disbelieving stares. “Queen and Country Weddings,” she informed him tightly. “I told you about them before. They’re British. Up-and-coming and very exclusive.”
“Expensive?” Tom watched as Sasha laughed, a mean little sound that made him wince. Laughter was supposed to be happy, he thought. It wasn’t supposed to sound like that , a mean, self-satisfied, ugly sound.
Abruptly, Tom recalled the sound of another laugh. In his mind he saw a smile, wide and cat-like, spread across two cheeks dusted with pink blusher. He saw the crinkles at the corners of two blue eyes. He heard happiness fill the air, like a warm breeze washing over you on a summer’s day. The memory made his heart run faster and his stomach knot with pain — he looked down, clutching his towel in his hand.
“Criminally so,” Sasha replied flippantly. “But it’s all on your mother’s dime, so who cares? We struck a deal, your mother and me. We get married out in the forest, without complaint, and she coughs up the cost of the wedding.”
“Right,” Tom nodded, but his eyes were blank. He was still caught in the past, still locked in a memory. “Right.”
“Tom.”
Sasha’s voice was a bucket of cold water thrown over him, and Tom looked up, instantly feeling guilty. “What?”
“Are you okay?” Sasha asked, and for the first time that morning, he heard concern in her words.
“Yeah,” he replied through a dry mouth, swallowing hard, and Sasha looked at him keenly.
“Are you sure?” she asked worriedly. “Look, Tom, I know I seem a little, well, sharp today. I don’t mean to be. It’s just that, I really, really, really want Queen and Country Weddings... I want them to plan my wedding, Tom. It means a lot to me. Just like our getting married out there means something to you.”
“I know,” Tom replied, before he sighed and nodded. “I get it.”
Sasha stared at him for a long moment, her eyes hard, like two dark amethysts glittering in the light. Suddenly, the amethysts softened, Sasha’s eyes like morning dewdrops sitting on the petal of a flower, and she smiled at him.
“I know you get it,” she said sweetly, wrapping her arms around his waist. “You’re going to be a good husband for me, I just know it.”
Tom sighed again, dropping a kiss onto the top of Sasha’s head. When she wanted to, Sasha could be very sweet. They’d been together a long time, and he knew all the colours and moods of her personality now. Sasha swung between hard and soft, waspish and pleasant, like the pendulum of a fast-running clock. Tom knew why: Sasha’s work was demanding and competitive, and by default she had to be demanding and competitive too. Sometimes, and he was almost sure it was mostly unintentional, she brought home the hard-as-nails demeanour that made her a success in her field. When she wanted to though, she could be soft and warm and lovely, and they worked well together. When she wanted, Sasha’s sweetness showed him exactly why he planned on marrying her.
When she wanted.
“Queen and Country are going to put my wedding on the map, you know.” She wriggled out of his arms. “It will be the most talked-about event of the year, if not the decade.”
“Yes,” Tom agreed, even though a small voice inside him, the one he tried to keep hidden when Sasha was present, instantly spoke up. It’s meant to be our wedding, not just hers, the voice whispered. Why do you let her walk all over you like this?
Wrenching himself away from an unpalatable train of thought, Tom dropped his towel, moved to the wardrobe and pulled out an old sweater and pair of jeans. He could feel Sasha’s eyes watching him. When he turned, she gestured accusingly to the clothes he’d chosen for the day.
“Really?” she asked him. “Those rags?”
“I need to clear my head,” Tom told her. “Maybe get up into the sky. Take my dad’s old plane out.”
“Tom—”
“Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “It’ll only be for a few hours. I’ll make sure I’m back and changed in time for... King and Queen... or...”
“Queen and Country,” Sasha finished for him tightly. “Fine. But make sure you’re back here and pristine by one o’clock.” For a moment, she looked at him. “And make an appointment with Dr Edelstein.”
He nodded as he pulled the sweater over his head. The heavens were dark, and heavy with the promise of coming rain, but he knew that above the clouds lay blue sky and bright sunshine. He longed for both. He’d fire up his dad’s old plane, take a quick flight into the sun before coming back down to the dark.
“I’ll see you soon.” He gave Sasha a quick peck on the cheek.
She waved him away. “While you’re out, don’t forget to call my father back.”
Tom stopped, repressing the urge to shudder. “Your father?” he asked, mouth dry. “Why?”
Myron Saffin, Sasha’s father, was a force to be reckoned with. Just as ruthless and cut-throat in business as his daughter, he was sharp as a tack and just as piercing.
“He invited you to his poker night,” Sasha replied. “It’s a big deal, Tom. He doesn’t invite just anyone . Make sure you go. Many of Daddy’s best and most successful business associates will be there. It will be the perfect chance for you to network.”
Poker. Tom inhaled sharply as a memory seized hold of him. He pictured long fingers holding a queen of spades, while bright blue eyes gazed warmly upon him. For a moment, he struggled with the wistful pang of regret that began to creep down his spine, ordering himself to pull it together. Looking down, he found his fists were clenched and arm muscles taut. He made a point of relaxing them, of stretching them out, of pushing memories back into the past, where they belonged.
Taking a deep breath, he gave Sasha a long look, and for once his voice was firm and unyielding. “I’m not going to poker night. I don’t play cards.”
* * *
He found his mother on the deck near the lake, a coffee in her hand, already dressed in her finest, her grey-brown hair artfully styled. Marnie was staring out over the water, and Tom came up behind her, giving her a quick hug and kiss and laughing when she spluttered into her coffee.
“Tom! You frightened the life out of me, sneaking up like that,” she chastised him, and he grinned, leaning against a nearby wall.
“Too good an opportunity to miss. Sorry Mom.”
His mother looked him up and down, taking in his old clothes with a careful eye. “You look good . . . You arrived so late last night, though. I’m sorry I couldn’t wait up for you. I’m old and need my sleep these days.”
“You’re not old.” Tom shrugged. “Had some work to finish up before the weekend, and then Sasha insisted on stopping back at the apartment to grab some extra clothes before we set off. She’s in a bit of a state about these wedding planners today.”
“Hmm,” Marnie mused, looking annoyed. “You mean the wedding planners I had to pay to fly over from London, even before we’ve agreed to hire them?”
“Sasha has already hired them in her mind.” Tom felt a small dart of embarrassment, and looked down. “I’m trying to make this special for her.”
“They better be damned special, at the price I’m paying,” Marnie retorted.
“Mom—”
“Oh, I’m going to foot the bill and not complain... much .” She raised one impeccable eyebrow. “I just don’t know what’s wrong with Elegant Events. We’ve been using them for decades, Tom. Every family event and occasion, they’ve been there, reliable as the tide. How is it going to look when I send Frank an invitation to your wedding, which has been planned by these... these Brits ?”
“It’s going to look like you’re inviting an old friend to my wedding,” Tom replied. “I love Frank too, Mom. But Sasha... she’s a modern girl, you know?”
“And what am I, a relic?” Marnie gave Tom a rueful smile. “Don’t answer that. Well, I take it by your attire you’re heading up before we all head out?”
“Quick flight, I promise.”
“Make it a long one and we can cancel the wedding,” Marnie quipped, before seeing Tom’s stern face and giving a shrug. “All right, no more of that. Give that plane a good look over before you head up, okay? It hasn’t flown since you were last here. I dread to think what state the engine is in.”
Tom nodded. “I will. You know I’m careful.”
Marnie sighed. “So, exactly what am I supposed to do with Sasha all morning while you’re off on your jaunt?”
“Talk to her. Make nice with her. Maybe plan the wedding with her?”
Marnie frowned. “All I’m allowed to do for this wedding is sign the cheques.”
“Hey,” Tom gave her a gentle nudge, “we’re getting married in the woods at least, like you wanted.”
Marnie nodded. “Well yes, there is that. And I suppose I could mention Corentin to Sasha...”
Tom blanched at his older brother’s name. “Corentin? Why? What does he want?”
“Well, you know how he’s a man of the cloth these days...”
Tom held up a hand, stopping her. “I know exactly where this conversation is going, Mother. And I already told you, I can’t ask Sasha to let my crazy—”
“Hey!” Marnie protested, without conviction.
“—loopy, off-the-radar brother marry us. I can’t do it. I won’t. She’ll never agree.”
“Maybe not to you, but if I throw in, say, an all-expenses paid honeymoon to a five-star destination somewhere in the world, Sasha might be more amenable.”
“It worries me, Mom, that you think you can buy my fiancée’s conformity like that.”
“And it worries me that you persist in believing I can’t.”
“Mom—”
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to say anything,” Marnie said brusquely. “But you must know that I don’t like the woman and I’m never going to. I don’t understand why you plan on marrying her.”
“Sasha can be very sweet. Besides, you don’t know her like I do.”
“Small mercies,” his mother retorted, and he frowned at her.
“I’ve been with Sasha for a long time.”
“Exactly. Maybe you should try dating other women — you don’t know what you’re missing.”
Tom felt that old pang of wistfulness start to rise, and he swallowed hard. He knew exactly what he was missing. Instinctively, he reached into his pocket, feeling for the card he always carried with him.
“I’m going up,” he said shortly, watching as his mother’s face fell. “I’ll see you at one o’clock. Try not to bite my fiancée’s head off while I’m out, hey?”
“Tom, I’m sorry,” Marnie offered mournfully. “You know me. You know I can’t hold back my opinions.”
“Try,” Tom pleaded. “For my sake, try.”
Marnie nodded, looking back out over the lake. “I promise. The wedding planners are here, by the way. Credit where credit’s due, they came straight here off their flight. No one’s going to say they’re workshy at least.”
“Good.” Tom nodded. He knew his mother appreciated people with a good work ethic. “They seem nice?”
Marnie shrugged. “I haven’t met them yet. Apparently, they wanted to head straight out to the venue, so they could work on their artistic vision .” Tom watched as Marnie struggled not to roll her eyes. “Anyway, they’re out in the woods. I got a brief glimpse of them. They seem like clean-cut, reliable people.”
“That will make Sasha happy,” Tom mused, even as he reached for the card in his pocket once more.
“Hmm.” Marnie was watching him sharply. Suddenly, she reached forward, plucking her hand into his pocket and pulling out the card. “What is this you keep playing with?”
Tom quickly grabbed for it, but Marnie stepped out of reach.
“It’s just a playing card,” he explained quickly. “It’s nothing.”
“You and your card tricks,” Marnie shook her head in exasperation, even as she peered at the card more closely. “But this isn’t ‘nothing’, Tom. This is the fool from Marie Leszczyńska’s deck of cards. She was a queen of France, you know.”
“Yeah, I know, I just—” Tom reached for the card again, but Marnie held it tight.
“Marie Leszczyńska gave this deck as a gift to an ancestor of mine, and it was passed down the family. My great-grandparents smuggled this deck out of Europe during the war. This card should be in a museum, not your pocket.”
“I found the deck when I was a kid.” Tom shrugged, feeling a spike of guilt. “I didn’t know they were Marie Leszczyńska’s until much later.”
“I was going to donate them to the local museum,” Marnie complained, “but I couldn’t find them. I turned the attic upside down searching for them, and you had them in your pocket all along!”
“I like them.”
“Tom—”
“Mom,” Tom broke her off gently, “Just let me... Just let me keep them, okay?”
Marnie gazed at him. “Is there something you’re not telling me here, Tom?”
Tom swallowed. “No,” he lied.
Marnie sighed. “Look, fine. Just take care of them, okay? And don’t let Sasha get a hold of them. God knows, she’d have them on Vinted in a heartbeat.”
“I’ll take care of them, don’t worry.”
Tom sighed with relief as Marnie handed the card back to him, sliding it into his pocket and feeling the comfort of its slight weight once more. “And be nice about Sasha, Mom. She’s not all bad. You’re just in a bad mood because of the wedding.” He thought of his own dreams the night before, of Doug in his mind. “Weddings do strange things to people.”
Marnie nodded again. “Maybe. Maybe not. Well, off you go. Enjoy the skies. But don’t be late, or Sasha will probably kill you,” she paused, “and if she doesn’t I will. You know I can’t be alone for long periods with that woman.”
“I won’t be late,” Tom promised, as he turned in the direction of the old plane hangar.
“And Tom?” Marnie called out. He turned back to her. “Be careful,” she warned. “The sky’s so dark... Ides weather, your father used to say—”
“I know. I’ll be careful.”
“It was wet yesterday, but not dark like this.” Marnie glanced up at the swirling clouds overhead with a frown. “I don’t know, Tom. Your wedding planners arrive, and a storm starts brewing...”
“Mom.” Tom gave a wry smile. “You’re starting to sound like Corentin, all superstition and nonsense. Sasha’s fine, and the wedding planners will be fine. You’ll see.”
Marnie smiled. “I’m not saying it’s a sign or anything, but it can’t be a coincidence that they arrived and then darkness followed. Maybe it’s not even Sasha. Maybe it’s the wedding planners themselves who’re going to be the problem.”
But Tom shook his head, giving his mother another fond smile. “Mom, relax.” He stood taller, pushing his hands into his pockets. “The wedding planners aren’t going to be a problem. I promise.”