Chapter Thirty-Seven
THE NEXT MORNING, after an endless night of staring sightlessly at the Grand Canal, Jill walks alone to Caffè Florian.
The day is cold and grey, with a light rain starting.
She hadn’t wanted to meet Lara in the grand hotel lobby and walk there together.
She needs some time alone, a brisk walk to clear her head and calm her nerves.
Why does Lara want to see her? But maybe a coffee is just a coffee.
Now she crosses St Mark’s Square and approaches the famous coffeehouse.
She slips beneath the stone arches; there are no tourists sitting outside now.
She steps inside, out of the weather. Jill knows that famous people have idled over coffee here – Dickens, Byron, even Casanova.
Poets and lovers. Jill imagines conspirators and murderers meeting here.
It probably looks much like it did hundreds of years ago, a labyrinth of rooms, one leading to another, richly decorated with gold accents, paintings and mirrors, and furnished with small marble tables, velvet chairs and banquettes.
She can already smell the rich fragrance of freshly roasting coffee.
She wanders through the rooms, searching for Lara, realizing that she has arrived a little late.
She finds her sitting by a window in a room fronting onto St Mark’s. She’s gazing out the window toward the square, thoughtfully watching the pigeons, unaware of Jill observing her.
If only they were still friends, Jill thinks.
If only none of this had ever happened. If she could go back in time and change things, she would.
She wishes they’d never gone on the boat that day.
So what if they’d had to mortgage the brownstone?
She is again reminded that it is no longer their sanctuary.
It has been violated – they have been violated.
She doesn’t like being there any more. All of it has been for nothing. She feels as if she has sold her soul.
As if she senses Jill standing there, Lara turns from the window and sees her. Jill forces a smile and walks over and sits down across from her, hoping that the brisk walk and the cold air have put some colour in her cheeks. She must act as if all is well.
But the first thing Lara says is, ‘You look tired, Jill. Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine.’ She gazes around the room, anxious to distract Lara’s attention from her. ‘I love this place, don’t you?’
‘I do. If these walls could talk,’ Lara says, ‘think of the stories they could tell.’
Jill wonders if Lara is trying to imply something with that. A waiter arrives and they each order a Caffè del Doge – coffee, chocolate, and hazelnut cream.
‘It’s so lovely,’ Lara says, smiling, ‘being here in Venice.’
Jill smiles back, barely paying attention.
She’s thinking that if Lara and Ben are behind this, they are never going to admit it.
They will ask to be paid in Bitcoin or something, something untraceable.
And Lara will continue to pretend to be a supportive, concerned friend, all while bleeding them dry.
Jill feels her smile draining away as her thoughts run on.
And Lara might arrange to return the digital files, Jill thinks, but she will keep a copy.
Of course she will. She’ll say that she’s given them the only copy.
And then some time will pass and the texts, the demands, will begin again.
OF COURSE WE KEPT COPIES. AND NOW WE WANT MORE MONEY.
But Jill and Ted will never know for sure who is behind it.
They won’t be able to eliminate their blackmailer.
And it will drive them mad. Jill knows she’s half mad already.
She must look half crazy, because now Lara leans forward, her face full of concern and asks again, ‘Jill, are you all right?’
For a moment she can’t answer, frozen in her fear and paranoia.
Lara reaches out and puts her hand on hers. ‘Jill, if there’s anything troubling you, maybe I can help. You can confide in me, you know. You can trust me.’
Jill draws her hand back. She fears Lara is playing some kind of sick game, pretending to care, gaslighting her. ‘No, there’s nothing. If there were, I’d tell you. You’re my best friend.’
While Lara is having coffee with Jill at Florian’s, Ben is shopping in a leather goods store.
He needs a new wallet, and this is an excellent little shop.
He tries on various pairs of gloves as well.
Having made his choices, he takes his purchases to the cash register.
As he’s reaching for his credit card he receives a text from Lara.
She is finished with Jill and wants to meet.
He thought she’d be longer. He texts her back and they agree to meet in front of the Doge’s Palace.
The light rain has stopped, and the sun is coming out.
As he strolls to meet his wife, he thinks about Ted and Jill.
Everything has been a little weird since the accident on the boat.
They don’t believe Ted and Jill are responsible for Greg going overboard.
It’s absurd. But his wife is right – the two of them do seem particularly on edge.
Even he could see it. He’s not sure it was such a good idea to join them here in Venice. Maybe they wanted to be alone.
He sees Lara walking toward him, a little breathless. He approaches her and kisses her on the cheek. ‘How was your coffee with Jill?’ he asks, as she takes his arm and they begin to stroll.
‘Fine,’ she says. After a moment, she adds, ‘Actually, I’m really worried about her.’
He glances at his wife; she seems lost in thought.
He knows Lara has never considered him to be particularly perceptive about people.
She makes much of her ‘woman’s intuition’, and maybe there’s something to it, because she has always seemed to be able to read people better than he can.
But even he had thought that Ted and Jill seemed unusually tense at dinner last night.
‘I don’t think she’s okay at all,’ Lara says.
‘She seems to be under tremendous strain.’ She stops for a moment and faces him.
‘It’s not just Ramirez. All those stories in the tabloids, all the stuff online – talking about how they survived and Ted gets Greg’s money.
Sly, insinuating, awful stories. And the gossip.
I heard people whispering things at the memorial.
I think it’s all weighing on her. I just want to be there for her, keep an eye on her. She’s my best friend.’
‘I know,’ he says, giving her shoulders a squeeze.
And then she changes the subject. ‘Do you want to take a vaporetto to Murano?’
Lara meanders with Ben through the shops on the island of Murano, famous for its blown glass, but her mind is on other things.
Ben doesn’t seem to be able to think ill of anyone. It’s hard to believe that people like him even exist anymore, she thinks. She knows better – and she thinks Jill has done something that she can’t live with.
She has never seen Jill like she was this morning at Florian’s.
She’d seemed almost to go off in her own mind somewhere, her expression troubled, fearful.
But when Lara had reached out with her hand, Jill had snapped out of it.
She’d remained guarded for the rest of their coffee date, talking mostly about Venice, and then had cut their time short, saying she had to meet Ted.
Jill had seemed as fragile as one of these glass sculptures, she thinks, ready to shatter.
After a while, Lara finds herself charmed by some playful, colorful glass balloons, with strings trailing from them, as if from a child’s toy. She buys half a dozen and arranges to have them shipped home.