Hannah had taken her to the Lapthorne estate once and Lily had gazed at the paintings hungrily, studying every brushstroke, envious of the skill and envious of anyone who could build a life as an artist. Hannah had given her a catalog of her grandfather’s work from an exhibition that was running, and it had become Lily’s most treasured possession. She thumbed the pages, studied the pictures and slept with it under her pillow.
Ever since she was old enough to hold a paintbrush, Lily had loved painting. She’d painted everything in sight. When she’d run out of paper, she’d painted on the walls. She’d painted her school bag and her running shoes. She’d said to her parents I want to be an artist, and for a while they’d looked worried. They’d told her no one made money that way and that she was smart enough to be a doctor or a lawyer. Lily knew how much they wanted that for her, and she knew how much they’d sacrificed. She owed them. So she dutifully took up her place at medical school and maybe she might even have stuck it out if it hadn’t been for what happened on that one particular night.
“Lily? Are you still there?”
Lily tugged herself back into the present. “Yes. So how was Kristen?”
“Busy as ever. She was in the middle of organizing a big event at the Lapthorne estate. Celebrating her father, the artist. It’s happening today, I think. Todd will be there with his fiancée—I forget her name. And Hannah will be there of course. Kristen invited us, and you, which was so generous of her.”
Todd would be there with his fiancée.
Lily imagined Todd in the rose garden with a glass of champagne in his hand and Amelie gazing up at him with that self-satisfied look, a large diamond glinting on her finger.
Amelie.
Amelie was the girl who had tried to cut off Lily’s ponytail with a pair of scissors. And now she was marrying Todd.
Todd had broken Lily’s heart.
Her palms felt sweaty. “Are you going to the party?”
“No, of course not. Your father wouldn’t know what to say and I wouldn’t know what to wear. They’re your friends really, not ours. Kristen mentioned that Hannah is about to start her clinical rotation, but you probably know that as she’s your best friend.”
Lily didn’t know that. Lily and Hannah hadn’t spoken since that terrible fight on the night Lily had packed her bags and left medical school for good.
Every time Lily thought of Hannah she wanted to cry. When they were young they’d sworn that nothing, and no one, would ever come between them and they’d truly believed that.
They’d been wrong.
“I have to go, Mom. I’ll be late for work and I don’t want to let people down.” She winced as she said it, because she was all too aware that she’d let her parents down. “I’m sorry you’re worried but you don’t need to be. I’m happy. I like my life.”
“We just don’t want you to waste your talents, honey, that’s all. You’re capable of so much. You could be curing cancer—”
Curing cancer? No pressure then.
“I hated medical school.” She didn’t expect them to understand. They believed that if you were smart enough to be a doctor, why wouldn’t you be one? “I want to be an artist, Mom. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. You know that.”
“I know, but where’s the future in that? Your dad and I just don’t want you to struggle financially as we did. Life can be hard, Lily.”
Lily closed her eyes. She knew that. She knew how hard life could be.
“Stop worrying, Mom.” She tried not to think about the tiny amount of money in her bank account. “I’m managing fine. And I’m going to pay you and Dad back.”
“That’s not necessary, honey. We love you, and remember there’s a home and a welcome here whenever you need it.”
Lily’s throat felt full. “Thanks, Mom. And now I have to go. Give my love to Dad.”
She ended the call, wondering why big life decisions had to feel so difficult and wondering why, when there were so many people her mother could have bumped into, she’d had to bump into Kristen Buckingham.
But she wasn’t going to think about that now. And she wasn’t going to think about Hannah, starting her clinical rotation. Twice in the last few months she’d almost texted her. Once she’d even typed out a message, but then she’d deleted it. What was the point?
The friendship that they’d believed could never be damaged, had been damaged. Smashed. Broken. Amelie might as well have taken her scissors to it.
But that was in the past now.
Hannah was living in the city, and Lily was here on the Cape, and if it wasn’t as blissful as she’d imagined it would be when she’d left the smothering security of her parents’ home, then at least it was her choice.
Eyes stinging, she dropped the phone back into her bag and pedalled hard. The call had cost her ten minutes, but if she worked fast she’d still get the work done.
The breeze blew into her face and dried the dampness of tears. One day she’d make it up to her parents. She’d find a way to make them proud, even though she wouldn’t be curing cancer.
She turned into the driveway of a large mansion and cycled up to the house, her sudden stop creating a small shower of gravel. Grabbing her backpack, she sprinted to the front door and waved to Mike, the gardener, who was hauling trays of plants from the back of his truck.
This particular house was a prime beachfront property and was booked solid throughout the summer months. It slept fourteen, and those fourteen had clearly had a good time if the state of the kitchen was anything to go by.
The company she worked for catered to the luxury end of the market (people with more money than sense, the owner was fond of saying) and it always surprised her that those people seemed never to have mastered the basic art of clearing up after themselves.
She scooped up empty pizza boxes, removed a discarded lobster shell from one of the kitchen chairs (she could be curing cancer, but instead she was clearing up lobster shells) and cleared half a dozen empty champagne bottles into the recycling. She wiped, she spritzed, she mopped, she polished and once she’d restored the kitchen to its usual pristine state and reassured herself that there was no lasting damage, she headed towards the bedrooms.
By the time she’d finished it was mid afternoon.
She took a large drink of water from the bottle she kept in her backpack and retrieved her bike.
“I’m all done.” She pushed her bike across to Mike, who was bent over a flower bed.
He straightened, stepped over a clump of petunias and walked over to her. “Where are you off to next?”
“Dune cottage.”
“That place is a mystery.” He pulled his hat down to keep the sun from his face. “I fixed the deck last summer, but the place was empty. Have you ever seen anyone staying there?”
“Never. Easiest cleaning job I do all week. A bit of light dusting. Clean the windows, sweep the deck. Change the sheets in the master bedroom once a fortnight. Report anything that needs repairing.”
“Why change the sheets?”
“Apparently they like to keep the place ready, just in case.”
“In case of what? Who do you think owns it?”
Lily shrugged. “I’m guessing some billionaire from Manhattan who can afford to keep it empty.”
“Isn’t it a bit small for a billionaire?”
“Maybe he’s a small, single billionaire.”