Chapter Fourteen
They touched back down at Montgomery Field just after seven. He helped her out of the plane and she stood two feet in front of him.
The shield that Isobel had intended to keep between them had steadily crumbled throughout the day, and in an effort to recover some distance she chose to end the day with a return to some formality. “It’s been a lovely day, Lance, one I’ll remember for a long time.”
“Apart from the aerial acrobatics and the martial arts demo?” he replied, extending his arms and imitating a banking plane, and in the process sending a torpedo into Isobel’s attempt at a return to keeping a polite distance.
She gave him a friendly push. “I can forgive you for that.”
He took a step back. “You can’t go home without visiting La Jolla. And there’s still time to catch the sunset.” She hesitated a moment too long. “It wouldn’t be right to leave you hungry, and I can still have you in Coronado at a respectable hour, as I promised.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you can be somewhat persistent?"
“Not since the storekeeper this afternoon.”
She laughed. “I suppose he did need taking down a peg or two."
“A quick bite, then?”
“I’m still working through that apple pie, but maybe a cocktail?”
They sped down into the coastal village of La Jolla, famous for its upscale shops and restaurants. Lance slowed as they entered downtown, where visitors and locals meandered along the pristine main street lined with trees resplendent in pink and white spring blossoms. Rows of shops emblazoned with designer labels were broken only by the glass fronts of high-end food outlets. As they approached the seafront the grey stone of the high street gave way to the greenery of a well-kept park, where tourists took their ease and couples lay cuddling on the grass, bathed in the last of the warm evening sunshine.
Lance cruised along the high promenade as the choppy waters of the Pacific broke against the rocky shore below. He pulled in at a white walled building overlooking a cove. A valet welcomed him by name as Lance tossed over the car keys.
“Another restaurant where they know you?” said Isobel, feigning surprise.
“I only live five minutes away, so I come here once or twice a month. And better to eat where they know you, don’t you think?”
“Only if you’re hungry,” said Isobel, feeling somewhat railroaded by the way Lance had again taken control.
They had arrived at peak time and a harried-looking hostess acknowledged them with a smile as she finished negotiating table availability with a couple of walk-in customers. “We’re not dining tonight, Louise,” said Lance, holding up a palm as the hostess picked up two menus, the problem with table availability apparently having evaporated. They made their way to a corner overlooking the cove. He had chosen a prime position. Lance turned over the silver sign marked ‘Reserved’. “They put that up just in case a regular drops in,” said Lance apologetically.
“And once or twice a month counts as a regular,” said Isobel, not believing a word.
“If they need the table, they can always ask.”
The colony of brown-grey seals that had made La Jolla their home congregated on the rocks below, basking in the last of the day’s sun. “You mind if I get a couple of appetisers?” said Lance as Isobel perused the cocktail menu. “Just to keep me going.”
“Sounds like you’re determined to put temptation in my way.”
He looked down at the menu, raising his eyes only briefly. “Nothing could be further from my mind.”
“How long have you lived in La Jolla?” asked Isobel, still keen to fill in the many blanks that Lance always seemed to leave in his life story.
“Oh, a few years.”
“And you moved here to be closer to work?” Isobel wondered at the reason for her uncharacteristic persistence. Jay had crushed her with lies and deceit, and the memory of her own trusting naïveté still hurt; yet she had let Ryan into her bed on their third date without knowing, and without much caring, whether anything he told her about himself was true.
“No. Coronado is great for a certain lifestyle, but it’s not exactly party central, and I needed a change. I suppose I didn’t think Coronado would be a likely place to meet the girl of my dreams. But perhaps I got it wrong…”
Since the removal of her wedding ring and her arrival in America, Isobel had gotten used to men hitting on her but she still blushed at the compliment. “And La Jolla is party central?”
Lance laughed. “I suppose not. But Coronado can be a tourist trap, particularly in the summer. Here it’s much the same all year round.”
“And it’s not a hideaway for drug barons, like some people say?”
“I guess there might be a few here,” he conceded with a laugh.
“Some folks seem to feel the need for armour-plated limos, but there hasn’t been a drive-by shooting. So I think you’re quite safe. At least from drug dealers.”
Isobel worried that her questions too contrived, as if she wanted to avoid normal boy–girl trivia, and Lance seemed to sense it. “But I’m more interested in learning about you. You haven’t mentioned how things are going with your absent friend from LA.”
A week before she would have bridled at Lance’s directness, and perhaps objected to it, but his charm and his generosity were taking their toll on Isobel’s defences. “Nothing has changed in that department. We haven’t had fallout or anything like that. It’s just that he’s incredibly busy right now.”
“Too busy to look after a woman like you?”
“I’d like to think I can look after myself.”
He touched her arm. “You know what I mean.” He said the words quietly, almost intimately. A few moments of silence followed before Lance returned to his gentle questioning. “And what does your friend do up in LA that keeps him busy on weekends?”
Ryan had described himself as a film director when Isobel met him, but this now seemed more aspirational than real. “He’s in the movie business.”
“That’s a broad church,” said Lance, sounding sceptical.
“He’s an actor by training and by profession, if you must know, and he’s also involved in projects. When he’s not on stage he works on film scripts and in production. Right now he’s immersed in a new movie, getting everything in place, and he’ll also have a role in the directing so it’s an exciting time.”
“Yes, I can imagine,” said Lance, rubbing his chin.
The waitress returned to ask if they needed anything, providing Isobel with a welcome respite from explaining Ryan’s absence, or in justifying it. She took the opportunity to become the questioner. “And you, what exactly is keeping you busy at the moment?”
“Nothing that would stop me from making time for you.”
“But when you’re not seeing me?” she asked, now determined to ignore his flirtations.
“The usual. Looking after today’s business, thinking about tomorrow’s. Next week I need to spend a couple of days in Phoenix. But nothing too demanding—I’d have time to show you around, if you’d like that?”
This sounded like the proposition she had anticipated, particularly with the implication of an overnight stay.
“A kind invitation,” she said, allowing distance to return to her voice, “but have you been listening to anything I’ve been saying these last ten minutes?”
“I’ve been listening to everything. Most intently.”
“Then you’ll know visiting Phoenix for two days is not something that fits in with where I am right now. It would be difficult to explain, and to defend. But thank you.”
“I hope you don’t think I’m suggesting anything improper, anything more than a continuation of our sightseeing.”
“The thought never crossed my mind.”
“To the innocent all is innocent?”
“If you like, but I never claimed to be innocent. I only said that I’m in a relationship and I don’t want to compromise it. It’s been a lovely day, flying and everything, but now I need to get myself grounded again. And I want to get back to my painting.”
He nodded. “Of course, I understand. Two days away was an ambitious notion, especially as we are just friends. Can I call you when I get back from Phoenix?”
She hesitated. “Lance,” she said, and paused again, but decided to take the plunge. “My life is a bit of a mess right now. I need to take some time out. It’s not just about you, it’s about everything. About all the stuff that still needs to be sorted out back in England, about what I’m doing in America, and whether staying on through the summer is what I want to do. I’ve got some difficult decisions to make. And getting involved with another relationship will complicate all that. ”
“Or make it simpler.”
“Not the way I see it. And, as it happens, I have my friend coming over from England for two weeks. I’ve made plans.”
“Of course, of course. I wouldn’t want to upset your plans.” Isobel sensed a hint of exasperation in his tone. He looked down into his empty glass. “You want to leave things for a while?”
After his relentless pursuit, the sudden and unexpected change of tack caught her wrong-footed; Isobel felt a fleeting sense of loss at the prospect of now losing what she had been resisting. She hesitated, unsure what to say.
He leant back in his chair and looked at his watch. “I guess I need to be focusing more on work anyway,” he continued. “When I get back from Phoenix, I need to sort some things out down in Mexico.”
Any doubt in Isobel’s mind about seeing Lance again had been washed away in a moment of emptiness. She reached out and touched his hand. “I’m not saying I don’t want to see you again; of course I’m not.”
“But?”
“But I do want to be sure that we both know where we stand, and that I’m always honest with you. As I’d like to think you will be with me.”
He pulled out his wallet, looking around for the waitress. “How about I check in with you as soon as I’m back from Phoenix? Have a coffee, maybe.”
“Yes, I think I’d like that.”
“That’s settled then.”
She pulled her pashmina around her shoulders. “It’s getting cool out here. Do you mind if we go now?”
He smiled, and signalled for the check.
They stood waiting for the valet to bring around the Morgan. An SUV parked across the road caught Isobel’s attention.
“That black car,” said Isobel, discreetly glancing towards it. “I’ve seen it before today.”
“The Lexus? There’s a few around.”
“Not with that Arizona license plate. I saw it outside the café in Pacific Beach this morning when we came out, I’m sure of it.”
Lance gave a shrug. “I guess someone else likes to eat the same places we do. Anyway, speaking of cars, are you going to be warm enough driving down the freeway in the open-top? It’s no trouble to switch to the sedan.”
She remembered he had mentioned that he only lived five minutes away, and wondered if he had a nightcap in mind.
“I thought you said your car was being serviced?”
“Yes, I did, didn’t I? But they’ll have dropped it back this afternoon; it only needed an oil change.”
“The wind in my hair works just fine with me. And it would be a pity not to use the sports car. After you went to all the trouble to hire it.”
He picked his jacket off the back seat and opened the passenger door for her. She thought he looked pleased with himself, or that look of “mission accomplished.”
“All speed to Coronado, then,” he said, delicately guiding her knee away from the closing door.
They stood outside on the porch on Ocean Boulevard saying their good-byes. She lightly fingered the photographs from Julian, and he held a basket of apples that she had bought as they left town. “I know I’ve said it already,” said Isobel, “but it’s been a wonderful day. One I’ll remember for a long time.” He put down the basket and stood tall above her. His eyes held hers and she knew he wanted to kiss her, and she knew she wanted him to, but at the same time feared that he would. He rested his hands on her shoulders. She raised herself on her toes and planted a kiss on his cheek, swiftly turning away and stooping to pick up the basket.
“I must find a way to thank you properly.” She wanted to kick herself for the ambiguity in her promise, but he seemed not to notice it.
“There’s no need to thank me, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
And with that he turned and left, not looking back.
Isobel did not immediately switch on the lounge light as she entered, instead going to the window and watching Lance as he made a three-point turn in the road. When the car had completed the circle he did not speed off, but sat strumming the steering wheel, looking directly to where she stood. If the lights had been on, his eyes would have caught hers. She stepped back, not wishing to be seen, and wondered if he knew that she was watching him, if the events and emotions of the day swirled in his head as they did in hers. He continued to dwell, looking back before pulling the seat belt across his chest, the roar of the twin exhausts audible through the windowpane. As he sped off she saw a black Lexus pull off the curb from down the street.