Game of Love (47 page)

“Take things as they are. Punch when you have to punch. Kick when you have to kick.”
~Bruce Lee

emma woke the next morning determined to track Andre down. She wouldn’t give up. But as soon as she started, she realized she didn’t even know where to start. Was he still in London? She called a couple of hotels, but quickly hit dead ends.

How would she find him? She glanced at her watch. It was early in Los Angeles, but she was desperate.

“Sorry for calling at this hour, Linda. It’s Gemma,” she said

“Gemma?” Linda cleared her throat. “Congratulations! You were awesome. Extraordinary! We were all at Dan and Dina’s watching the match. What a nice surprise. How are you?”

“Fine. Horrible. I’m trying to find Andre, but his phone is disconnected. Would you know where I can find him, or maybe you have another number for him?”

“I called him immediately after we heard your speech. I got the same message. I’m sure he’ll resurface soon.”

“Do you know if he’s back in the States? I’m against the clock. He was going to start a project right after Wimbledon. I need to speak to him before he leaves.”

“Project? Gemma, when he was here last week, he quit his job. There is no project.”

Gemma decided if nothing new turned up by end of day, she would take the next flight to Los Angeles. Andre had told Tish he was going home. That’s what she would do too. Go to his home.

Gemma’s phone rang.

“Ms. Lennon, I have the Prime Minister for you,” the voice said.

“Hello, Gemma,” the PM said.

“Hello, sir. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Gemma, I’ve been carefully observing the situation.”

“Situation, sir?”

“The situation with you and Andre.”

Her heart skipped a beat.

“Would you like to come over for tea?” he asked.

They sat on the terrace, her memories drifting to the other night, when the world was full of possibilities and all they had to do was hold each other tight.

“Has Andre told you how we know each other?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. He told me you and his uncle were friends.”

“That’s right. But there’s more to it. When Andre was eighteen, his uncle passed away. As I sat in church hearing the speeches about this man whom I had come to regard as my friend, I made a promise I would look out for his nephew. Andre never had a fair chance to achieve a life of happiness. He was taught to chase the money. To go after success at all cost. His uncle was a stabilizing force in his life, so when he passed away, I tried my best to be the voice of reason. I feel personally responsible for him. Can you understand?”

She nodded.

“The first time I saw you together, I knew he was happy, and in turn, that made me happy.” He studied her. “You do realize today is the infamous Fourth of July in the States. It’s a meaningless holiday for us, but today is the day the Americans won their independence from England. I do hope you won’t let Andre declare his independence from you. He does not want to be independent; he needs you.”

“Sir, I can’t find him,” she said.

He drank his tea. “How unfortunate. How very unfortunate indeed.”

“Do you have any suggestions?”

“I certainly couldn’t betray secrets.” He produced a sly smile. “Did you know his grandfather was from Barcelona?”

“Yes, he told me.”

“Have you been to Barcelona?”

“Not recently, sir.” She rose.

“When you go there, say today or tomorrow, be sure to find this little beach paradise south of Barcelona in Tarragona. I think you will fall in love with Vilfortuny. I hear it’s beautiful this time of year.”

She hugged him. “I think I’m about due for a holiday.”

“You do seem a bit pale.”

Gemma called Tish from her car. “Do you want a chance at redemption?”

“Anything.”

“Search for properties in Barcelona under Andre Reyes. Specifically in Vilafortuny, just south of Barcelona. Do a ten mile radius search.”

“Okay, I’m on it.”

“One more thing,” Gemma said. “Arrange a flight for Barcelona. I want to be there today.”

“Should I get you a hotel room?”

“Only for tonight. I have confidence you’ll find Andre’s home.”

Gemma landed in Barcelona that evening. In her hotel suite, she pored over a map of Vilafortuny, drawing out a plan of action while she waited on Tish to come through. Vilafortuny was a small community with beach houses. He was a beach man, and she knew he’d want to be on the coast. That’s where she’d start.

Her mobile rang. It was Tish. “We have a hit.”

“Go on.”

“As I said earlier, nothing under Andre Reyes. But after I searched every property, I hit gold. The estate of Andres Van.”

“Van? That sounds Dutch. Why do you think it’s him?” Gemma asked.

“I don’t think it’s him, I
know
it’s him. I just got off the phone with his cousin, and she confirmed a little detail he mentioned over dinner at Maurice’s. His paternal grandmother was of Armenian descent, born in Van. Back then it was in Armenia, now it’s in modern day Turkey. He wanted to honor her by including it in his estate declaration. Also, it’s
Andres
with an
s.
The Spanish version of his name. His grandfather’s name.”

Gemma grinned. “Absolutely brilliant.”

“I’m texting you his address.”

Gemma’s eyes stung. “Wish me luck. Tomorrow I go hunting.”

“Create your future from your future, not your past.”
~Werner Erhard

emma arrived in Vilafortuny at 9:00 in the morning. The address Tish had provided proved to be challenging to find. She’d have to walk the small streets that cut off and continued in irregular patterns. She parked the hired car, slid on her sunglasses, and walked through the streets of the carefully manicured beach villas.

She found the street name and took the pebbled path until she saw the beach break through. This was definitely the type of street that would call to Andre.

Just before she reached the sand, she scanned around. To her left was the yard of a charming, glass-enclosed house. This had to be his. She could see him falling in love at first sight. She didn’t bother checking the address number.

She opened the gate and stepped into the backyard. The smell of fresh jasmine stopped her cold. A heavy punching bag hung, abused, and sliding doors stood open. Her ankles wobbled.

“Andre?” she called out. No reply.

She knocked, yelled out. Nothing. She stepped in and took in the decor. Simple, comfortable furniture, designed with the beach dweller in mind. The house boasted an open architecture. The kitchen, den, and living room were all one large space. Overhead, sizeable skylights brought more natural light into the spacious living area.

She glanced through the books on the coffee table: mystery and suspense novels. She sat on the love seat and imagined him lounging for extended hours. She pictured herself lying there next to him. She spotted a gallery of guitars hanging on the wall. Eight in total. Five electric, two acoustic, and one missing.

“Andre?” she called out again. Still nothing.

She returned to the yard and peered toward the ocean. It was a little windy, but pleasant. The friendly breeze would keep the beach dwellers glued to the ocean. Not a lot of people yet. She absorbed the scents of sun tan lotion, sand, and ocean water.