A Rather Curious Engagement (40 page)

I glanced at the expert, who, sophisticated man that he was, nevertheless had a misty look of regret in his eyes. By now, the silence was deafening.

“Oh, no!” I cried. “It can’t end there.”

The Count smiled at me sadly.

“Yes, my dear,” he said. “I’m afraid it does.”

The Beethoven Lion fetched quite a bit of money. These things usually do. Two and a half million euros, to be exact. It was divided up just as we’d all agreed. Now, every year, the Lion makes his annual pilgrimage from six months in Corsica (where Diamanta’s family gets it for the night of their procession) to six months in Lake Como (including one night at the Count’s castle). I guess the Lion was just destined never to keep still for very long.

Accompanying him, and placed at his feet like a majestic carpet, is the Beethoven fragment, still a bit curly but quite legible, for all the world to see. Subsequent analysis by musicologists throughout the world led to a fairly general consensus that the fragment was indeed from a work-in-progress, in the Master’s hand, of a previously unknown version of the “Eroica Variations.”

I was glad that Diamanta’s family and the Count were very philosophical about the whole thing. They realized that some treasures are too beautiful to be locked up in one person’s house. Maybe that’s the only way to end a vendetta and take the curse off both houses.

Jeremy and I headed home; first to Antibes, where we were only too happy to kick back and relax. Jeremy said he was going to spend this little hiatus just floating on his back in that pool. Me? Well, I had our new offices to outfit, and a children’s charity auction to organize, and an ocean institute to promote . . . and, a wedding to plan. Not that the wedding was a big secret any longer. The headlines were already screaming their slight misinformation:

You can’t blame us for wanting to lay low for awhile. Just to revel in our good fortune, celebrate finding each other, and enjoy what lovely pleasures life had to offer . . . even to a girl like me, whom the world had previously written off as, well, a woman of few prospects. Surprise, surprise. Even two dopey kids like us could luck out sometimes.

But when the yachting season was done, we eagerly returned to the townhouse in London, which was now all ready for us to set up shop. I will never, ever, forget how it felt to walk up those steps and see, for the first time, the engraved brass plaque now officially established near the front door, proclaiming to all and sundry:

“Well,” said Jeremy one cozy night, looking up from his newspaper as he sat in his leather easy chair by the fireplace in our brand-new study, “you finally did it. You wanted our lives to take place in a 1930s movie set, and hey-presto, here we are.”

“But it’s better than a movie,” I said, from the depths of my wing chair opposite him, “it’s real life now.” I was looking at some sketches that Monsieur Lombard had sent me, for wedding dresses, and a groom’s outfit that I might want to talk Jeremy into wearing.

“I have only one question,” Jeremy said, leaning forward to poke the fire in the fireplace. “Where’s the Great Dane?”

“You don’t just buy a dog like a carpet,” I replied. “I have to do the research. Certain dog personalities may be better suited to the job he’ll have in our establishment. I can’t yet decide if, in the end, we may want a collie. Or a spaniel . . .”

“Okay, okay, get back to me when you have the info,” he said, rattling the pages of his paper as he set it aside. It was then that I saw what he was reading.
The Yachting Gazette.

“Next summer, maybe I’ll enter
Penelope’s Dream
in a classic motor yachts race . . .” Jeremy continued.

“Mmm,” I said, “And I think we should—”

Sail all around the Med like we wanted to
, I was about to say. But I never got to say it, because just then the phone rang. It rang and rang.

“I guess we’d better pick it up,” Jeremy suggested.

“Make a note to hire a personal secretary,” I said as I reached for it. Jeremy later told me that he watched my face go from mildly curious, to surprised, to stunned . . . and then I sat bolt upright.

“What’s up?” he asked. “Who is it?”

Odd, how one little phone call can set your feet on an entirely unexpected path. Jeremy’s feet, too. Naturally, because now we’re a real team, pattering around the world together.

Still, in retrospect, I wonder if I should have just let the phone keep on ringing.

But that, I’m afraid, is entirely another tale.

THE END

Special thanks to my husband Ray, for his generous spirit and spot-on advice. And to Margaret Atwood, for her guidance and friendship. To the unsinkable Jennifer Unter, and to Scott Gould and all the folks at RLR Literary. I also wish to express my appreciation to all the wonderful people at Penguin, particularly the admirable, ever-positive and unflappable Kara Cesare; and Rachel Kahan, Kara Welsh, Claire Zion, Lindsay Nouis, and all the good people in Penguin’s art, sales, marketing, copy, promotion and production departments. Special thanks to Ro and Umberto Marcenaro, for their help with all things Italian and beautiful. I would also like to thank Ginger Barber, and Elizabeth Corradino, for their professional advice and for their enduring friendship. And finally, my thanks to all those readers who wrote me such lovely letters and e-mails from far and wide.

READERS GUIDE

A. Yes, because with Penny and Jeremy, the path to love and the path to their future careers have continually intersected. For me the title always comes right out of the story. As a matter of a fact, the “curious” refers to Penny’s natural inquisitiveness as well as the “curio” or the antique artifact that motivates so much of the story.

A. This book is a sequel to one called
A Rather Lovely Inheritance,
which set up the story about Penny’s great-aunt who died and left her a surprising legacy. The entire family tree is revealed there. Many readers wrote to me asking what was to become of Penny and Jeremy after they got their “lovely inheritance.” Fortunately, I was already at work on the answer, because I wanted to know, too!

A. Yes, definitely. It all begins with the question, “What would you do if you inherited millions of dollars, a villa, a flat, and a car?” In other words, once your day-to-day concerns are met, what then? Do you just become a perpetual shopper, or are there new responsibilities, and the freedom to be able to make a difference? Of course, Penny’s life is always a bit of a romp—because her “nose” for family secrets, buried truths and lost history will always lead her (and Jeremy) into unusual adventures and sometimes dicey situations. But she’s actually attempting to do much more than find a treasure. Underneath it all, she’s really trying to figure out what’s important in life. Along the way, she’s intrigued with the people she meets and what motivates them.

A. I love vintage yachts; they’re floating time-machines of old-world elegance, a special universe unto themselves. Being on any boat gives a new perspective and a feeling of great possibilities without obstruction. However, when you’re not tethered to the shore, there’s always the chance of being swept away! So, when I put my characters literally “at sea” I find great opportunities for unusual conversations, events and insights. The dream that Penny has aboard the yacht on the return voyage from Corsica to Nice is very seminal in helping her connect all the impressions, clues and discoveries she’s made.

A. Yes, I love music, particularly Beethoven and Chopin, my favorites. Beethoven’s music is so heroic, all about triumph over adversity through perseverance; so, no matter how tired and dispirited one might feel at the end of the day, Beethoven’s symphonies always restore that exultant feeling of hope, and the pure joy of being alive. As for the artifact, well, I always thought that Beethoven had the face and attitude of a lion; and lions are a very common motif, particularly in medieval art.

A. Oh, yes. And there are plenty of lions, as well as dragons, horses, even unicorns. Aquamanilia date back to antiquity, and they were both functional and beautiful. After all, many of them were made before people had running water in their homes, and there were rituals that revolved around hand-washing, cooking, dining; and around religious ceremonies involving oil, water, wine and incense.

A. I think of writing more in terms of “natural” than “easy.” It was very natural to write again about the main characters, Penny and Jeremy, because I felt that they were already off and running on a new adventure and I could see it very clearly. The “supporting” characters come back into the story when the circumstances are right and they will interact well with anybody new. It’s fun when a familiar character does something unpredictable; and you can have very touching moments when they reveal an unexpected vulnerability. In writing as well as life, I find it’s best to remain open to being surprised by people, to allow my impressions of them to develop, deepen and alter as I get to know them better.

A. For me, they really are inseparable, but of course you’ve got to see them all distinctly in order to get them down on paper. I’d say it begins when characters hover in my mind. I carry them around with me during the day; and at night, something might occur to me that I’ll jot down on a bedside tablet. Images start to form, then the locale comes into focus, and other characters emerge from the background. Questions arise: What is the heroine doing here? But even the process of answering those questions is more of a meditation than a concentration; that is, I’ll follow the thread to see where it leads, instead of trying to turn the thread into a pair of reins to take control too quickly. I trust that I’ll get there.

A. Eventually I make outlines, but by that time I’ve already gone through the process we just talked about. So it’s pretty far along in my mind. I’ll outline just what I need for continuity and practicality, such as a family tree; and when was a character born, where did he start out, how old would he be now. That sort of thing. I might do a story outline eventually, too, just enough to capture the tone and flavor along the way, possibly incorporating the little scribbled night-time notes I’ve made. But even then, I like to leave room for surprises, and the kind of inspiration that can only occur when you’re really in there writing, and the characters are galloping along, just being themselves, which always clarifies the situation.

A. Yes, it began when I was awarded a writers’ residency, which gave me time not only to write but to become immersed in European culture, and involved with people who live there. Then my work in film and TV brought me back. Now it’s very much a part of my life.

A. I use such details when they help illustrate the locale and the dramatic situation. A cuisine tells you a lot about a region, and the experience that the characters are having. It’s all very much a part of the history of a place—with the actual sun, soil and water that nurtured such food, prepared by people whose families have been growing and cooking it for centuries.

A. I love to discover the mythologies that each country or community tell their children to provide them with a link to their ancestors and lost civilizations. Yet, certain universal themes and metaphors often emerge, reminding us of our shared love of the landscape and the sea, the planets and stars, the seasons. I like the contrasts to present-day, too; for example, earlier civilizations had a different concept of time, a way of looking at a year as something cyclical, returning and regained, as opposed to the current view of a year progressing in a straight line and then vanishing on New Year’s Eve. Primarily it’s the connection to nature that seems so vital now in the twenty-first century.