The Mansion Page 19

  She’d read a book a few months ago about a married woman having an affair—the husband in the book was an alcoholic boor who’d had a series of affairs of his own—with a composer who could play the woman’s body (or, rather, a certain part of the woman’s body) “like the Stradivarius that it was.” It was dirty enough to make her blush, but the story was pretty weak. Still, there had been enough to keep her reading, and one of her favorite lines came when the woman ran into the composer again after not seeing him for a year or two. The woman had immediately known that she was going to sleep with the composer again despite all vows to try to stay away from him. She couldn’t help herself. He was just too damned sexy. Simply seeing him, thinking about his mouth, his fingers, “turned her underwear into a lake of wonder.” Emily had laughed aloud when she read the sentence in the book, and it made her smile now, because seeing Shawn after all these years did not leave her feeling tempted in the least.

  The thing that was odd was that, on the surface, she should have been at least a little out of breath. Shawn looked better than he had the last time she’d seen him. That bit of baby fat had melted away—or, more likely, she thought, been worked away by personal trainers and chefs and the kind of life and help that could be afforded only by the ultra-rich—and he came down the stairs confident and fit. Even without knowing that he was wearing a pair of Momotaro jeans or that the motorcycle jacket he wore over his T-shirt was a Saint Laurent, it was clear to Emily that what he was wearing was simply of a different class from what her husband had on. She stole a glance at Billy. It wasn’t a fair comparison.

  Billy had always been a T-shirt and jeans guy. He never cared about clothes, and that not caring made the clothes look good on him. In his twenties, he’d had an effortless leanness, muscles that came to him despite spending most of his time in front of a laptop. He had a couple of pairs of jeans and a drawer full of T-shirts, and he pulled off the kind of “I don’t give a shit” look that on a lot of guys would have translated as either trying too hard or being a slob. On Billy, however, it made him look confident. That had been in his twenties, though. Over the last couple of years—since he’d gone clean, really—she’d noticed that his well-worn clothes had begun looking closer to worn out. What had once been sexy had become ragged and dingy. A bit like Billy. His hair had started thinning a little as he moved into his thirties, and the muscles that had come naturally to him in his twenties had softened. He had lines in his face that hadn’t been there when she met him, a map of the way he’d abused himself for a decade. She knew that, in part, the way he looked was simply the way she looked at him; she couldn’t help but see the disappointments of her life delineated across his skin. Maybe that’s why the new clothes he’d gotten when that money from Shawn came seemed to have made such a big change. New jeans, new T-shirts, new man.

  But looking from her husband to Shawn made her understand, suddenly, the difference between a pair of seventy-dollar jeans and a thirty-dollar T-shirt from the Gap and what you could buy when you had a personal shopper and money was literally no object. She didn’t need to know the labels to know that he was wearing a two-hundred-dollar T-shirt, that his jeans were probably somewhere north of five hundred bucks, and she didn’t want to even guess what a leather jacket like that would cost. What was that phrase? The clothes make the man? Except that, with Shawn Eagle, that wasn’t true. He looked like he was doing the clothes a favor by wearing them. The jeans and the jacket seemed effortless on him. That was because it was effortless, Emily realized. Shawn wasn’t trying. He probably had no clue that what he was wearing was out of the reach of somebody like Billy, and she wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that somebody on his staff laid out his clothing for him every morning.

  But despite that, despite how handsome Shawn looked, she didn’t feel it. No butterflies. If she’d been single and he’d flirted with her, she would have flirted right back, but looking at him was a little bit like looking at a faded photograph from a great vacation.

  Shawn made a point of shaking Billy’s hand and then embracing him in one of those awkward one-armed guy hugs, before he turned to look at Emily.

  “Hey,” he said. “Good to see you.”

  A kiss on the cheek, and then he apologized, steering Billy into his car. “Got to talk business,” he said.

  That was it. The three security men in the lead car, Billy and Shawn in the front of the second SUV, with Wendy in the backseat, leaving Emily alone in their Honda.

  She fumed for the first couple of minutes, but then she gave in. There wasn’t anything she could do about it, and besides, what had she wanted? What had she expected? She was glad that seeing Shawn again hadn’t done anything to her. Things were messy enough in the history between Shawn and her and Billy. Sure, she’d fantasized once or twice about what her life could have been like if she’d stayed with Shawn. More than once or twice. But that had been when things were falling apart with Billy. She shouldn’t be having that fantasy now. Not when things were finally on the right track again. Billy clean. Billy working. This opportunity in front of them. No, it wasn’t worth being upset about. Anyway, the drive was stunning. She had to admit that. Cortaca was a lovely town, full of waterfalls and thick with trees, the lake a jewel in the crown of the city. But the new and improved Whiskey Run was something else, and the drive from there to Eagle Mansion was one postcard view after another, particularly with the way the snow frosted everything. The snow was already starting to melt in the late-morning sun, however.

  By the time she came over the rise and saw the mansion, she wasn’t annoyed anymore. She was excited. Billy had described it to her, the way Shawn had fixed it up, but it was different seeing it for herself. Eagle Mansion looked like she had thought it would, but the Birdhouse or the Tree Fort or whatever ridiculous name Shawn was calling the addition, was different than she had expected. She had figured it would look stark and out of place, a billionaire’s folly perched on top of a classic building. The kind of addition that would age poorly. A masturbatory architectural gesture. To her surprise, however, Shawn’s private residence looked like it belonged on top of Eagle Mansion. Even with the steel and glass in contrast to the wood and stone of the mansion, they belonged together. The Nest. That’s what Billy said Shawn called the building. Even though the name made Shawn sound ridiculous, it was apt: the mansion did look like a bird about to take flight—there was something sharp and menacing in the way the late-morning sun caught the top edges of the gutters—and the glass of the addition cradled on steel girders did evoke a bird’s nest.

  She followed the two SUVs in front. They parked in a line, in front of the steps. She got out of the car and started walking around to the trunk, but Shawn called out to her.

  “Don’t worry about that stuff,” he said. “There’s a small staff in the building today while I’m here. Just to do some cooking for the day and to make sure everything’s clean for you guys to move in. Somebody will take care of bringing your things in from the car. Don’t worry, though. Once I take off, it will be just the two of you. I want to make sure Billy’s got the space to work his magic.”

  Billy was already up the stairs, but Shawn turned back and stepped close to her. He grabbed on to her arm, above the elbow, and looked her straight in the eye, his smile for the first time looking full to her. “It’s good to see you, you know. It really is.”

  She looked to see if Billy had noticed, but he was already inside, impatient to be off with Nellie. Wendy was at the top of the steps, either looking at her tablet or discreetly pretending to look at something on her tablet. Shawn’s security guards had seemingly disappeared. It was just the two of them. Intimate.

  “You look good, but it’s been too long,” Shawn said. “Why have we waited so long to see each other?”

  “Well, the short version is that my husband hates you and is worried that you’re still in love with me and I’m still in love with you and that I might leave him for you.” She kept a straight face.

 
; Shawn let go of her arm and took a step back. He rubbed his hand across his chin. “Hell. I don’t know if I’m supposed to smile at that or not.”

  “You can smile,” she said.

  “Is it true?”

  “That I’m still in love with you? Tell you what, how about you give me a tour of this little house of yours,” she said.

  There was a flash of irritation on his face, but he buried it. “It’s not a little house,” he said. “What is it with you two?”

  She saw the door open and Billy stepped part of the way out. “You coming?” he called down to Shawn.

  Shawn turned. “Yeah. Okay. Coming.” He looked back at Emily. “Let me take care of business with your boy. Wendy will give you the nickel tour.”

  He took the steps with the kind of energy that made Emily think of her sister’s dog. She had to hand it to Shawn. Where Billy could be maudlin and tried to figure out what was wrong with things, Shawn was always enthusiastic. The man had energy.

  She followed him up the steps and stopped next to Shawn’s assistant. Up close, she was even more attractive, and Emily wondered if Wendy had been a model and if Shawn was sleeping with her.

  “The answer is no,” Wendy said.

  “No? No what?”

  “You’re asking yourself if I’m one of Shawn’s bed bunnies. The answer is no.”

  “I wasn’t—”

  “Yes, you were,” Wendy said. She cut Emily off, but it wasn’t unkind, and there was a certain friendliness in her voice that made Emily, despite herself, laugh.

  “Okay. Yes. A little bit. Sorry. Ex-girlfriend and all that.”

  “Don’t worry,” Wendy said, “I’m not that forward with everybody.” She shrugged. “I figured I’d just get that one out of the way so that you and I can have some sort of a functional relationship. I can’t tell you how many of his girlfriends can’t get over the idea of my being his assistant.”

  Wendy walked through the front door of the mansion and Emily followed her in. The morning sun came through the glass front of the building and lit up the entranceway. She stopped to take it in. It was almost entirely empty, but it wasn’t cold. Clean. The space was clean. Billy had described it to her as best he could, but he didn’t get the way it felt. It felt, she thought, like Shawn. An elegance that seemed simple but was actually terribly complicated. There was a glass shaft encircled by a set of spiraling stairs toward the back. An elevator. Wendy saw her looking at it and shook her head.

  “We’ve been having a lot of trouble with the elevator. Shawn’s pissed about it. Just take the stairs for now. Elevator guy is supposed to be back out next week. I’ll give you the tour.”

  “So he has a lot of girlfriends?”

  Wendy had started walking to her left, but she stopped. “Emily. Come on. He’s a billionaire. And even if I’m not sleeping with him, we both know he’s a good-looking man. It doesn’t take a Harvard education—and no, I went to an elite liberal arts college in the middle of Iowa, thank you—to do the math on that. But that’s not really your question, is it?”

  “How about you show me where there’s a bathroom,” Emily said. “I’ve had a lot of coffee this morning.”

  “The answer to the other question you aren’t asking is yes,” Wendy said. “He talks about you a lot.”

  It was Emily’s turn to stop. She felt unsettled. The concrete floor could have been tilted ice.

  “Is that what this is?” She realized that she had gone from feeling disconcerted to angry in one quick slide. “Goddammit. This is just like him, to pull some sort of stupid stunt like this. What an asshole. He thinks that just because he’s Shawn Goddamned Eagle he can play with people’s lives like this? Billy thinks this is a real thing. He’s excited about working on some stupid, fake—”

  “You’re wrong,” Wendy said. Her voice was quiet, and Emily realized that her own voice had almost risen to the level of shouting. “The project is real. I don’t know how much Billy has told you about what he’s going to be working on or how much you understand it, but it’s real, and it’s fantastic. Look, I get it. I understand why you’re upset, and that’s my fault. I thought I’d try to cut through some of the bullshit that I figured would be there because of your past relationship with Shawn. I apologize. I misspoke.”

  “You misspoke?” Emily leaned back, her arms crossed. There was a part of her that was aware of her body language and wanted to stop. She might as well have been impatiently tapping her toe, and it made her feel slightly ashamed. She didn’t want to be that kind of woman. Not to another woman.

  Wendy shrugged. “Misspoke would be the wrong word. I misspoke about misspeaking. How’s that?” She offered up enough of a smile that Emily responded in kind. “But I made you feel shitty, and I didn’t mean to do that. Look, the truth is that Shawn does talk about you a lot, and I honestly don’t know if it’s because he’s still in love with you or because he was in love with you once and is nostalgic. I do know that, for him, the time he spent as a student at Cortaca University, and then after, working with Billy in the cabin in the woods, particularly when you were out there with them, those memories have a hold on him.”

  There was something about what Wendy was saying that felt off to Emily, but she couldn’t pinpoint it.

  “But this isn’t bullshit,” Wendy continued. “Not even a little bit. I’m not an engineer, but I know Eagle Technology inside and out. I don’t understand how it works, but I know enough about the program that your husband and Shawn tried to write that I understand what it could be if they get it to work. Shawn’s had a team of engineers trying to crack Nellie for years and years, and they’re close. But they can’t get her to work, not right at least. Shawn’s convinced that Billy’s the only one who can do it. Billy holds the key, according to Shawn. So, sure, maybe it’s a bonus that you’re part of the package. He was excited about seeing you. Too excited. Which is probably why he’s gone out of his way to sort of disappear. Shawn Eagle isn’t the kind of guy who is used to having to work for attention.” Emily started to respond but Wendy shook her head. “Maybe he wasn’t always that way, Emily, but the Shawn you knew isn’t the same Shawn that exists now. That other Shawn was a hundred billion dollars and a dozen years ago.”

  There was the sound of a ping from Wendy’s tablet, and she took a quick glance at it and then looked back at Emily. “Come on. Let me at least give you the tour while we talk.” She turned and headed down the wing, taking Emily along the corridor. Each door they approached slid open so that Wendy could give Emily a look.

  The mansion was, in a lot of ways, disappointing. Oh, Emily thought, it was gorgeous. A sculpture of sorts. Or, maybe more accurately, a piece of art with art inside, because Emily recognized some of the art on the walls. Or thought she recognized it. Even if she didn’t, she could recognize expensive. And the renovation, if you could even call it a renovation, was stunning. But it wasn’t . . . Something. It wasn’t futuristic, she thought. That’s what it was. That was what seemed incomplete. From the way Billy had described Nellie, Emily was expecting the new and improved Eagle Mansion to be some sort of science fiction wonderland. Holodecks and matter transmitters and all that space-age stuff that Billy loved. Ultimately, however, Eagle Mansion seemed to be nothing more than a really fancy hotel that was brand-new but built to look sort of old-fashioned. Of course, according to Wendy, part of that was because Nellie wasn’t turned on throughout the house yet.

  “Why not?”

  “There’s a reason you and Billy are here,” Wendy said. “Plus, until yesterday, we had workmen in and out of the building, finishing up. There was a cleaning crew in here overnight. Everybody has signed nondisclosure agreements, of course, but we’re talking about something that could be worth hundreds and hundreds of billions of dollars to Eagle Technology, maybe more.”

  Wendy started her off through the conference rooms and auditorium, showed her the spa and exercise room, and then brought her to the other wing, which was much more open: the bar and the
dining room opened directly into the kitchen without any doors to pass through.

  “The head chef wanted clear sight lines for the waiters so that service could be better. He claims, and if I could do it in his French accent, I would, that doors are ‘suspiciously dangerous’ in a kitchen. If you’re actually sitting in the dining room, you get a view of the grill and the wood-fired oven. The exciting stuff. All the nitty-gritty parts of the kitchen are behind the corner. Not that you’ll spend much time down here. You’ll probably want to do most of your cooking upstairs, in the Nest. Cooking dinner for two in a commercial kitchen is a bit like shooting a fly with a tank. Anyway, there’s a much better view upstairs.”

  She stopped in front of a large walk-in freezer. “It’s loaded up already for you guys. The pantry, too. Down here is all just-in-case stuff.”

  “Just in case what?”

  “Snow. The roads will be plowed, but you spent a winter up here, right? That little dusting we had this morning is just the beginning of things. It’ll be melted by lunch, but the snow is going to start in earnest sometime in the next few weeks. You’re going to have some times when the roads aren’t passable. When they’re clear, of course, you can get groceries delivered up from Whiskey Run whenever you feel like it. I’ll run you through how to order. If there’s something you want that they don’t have in town, just let the grocer know. They’ll get it brought in for you. Sometimes it takes a couple of days, but whatever you want.”

  Wendy opened the door and stepped in. The cold air washed over Emily, and she felt herself start to shiver. The freezer wasn’t as big as she’d expected, but then again, it wasn’t that big a place. What had Billy told her? Sixty guest rooms? She hugged her arms across her chest.

  Wendy showed her the basic layout of the freezer—chicken, steak, pork, lamb, different kinds of fish and seafood, vegetables, fruit, desserts, staples—and then walked her through the dry storage. “Really, though, once Nellie is turned on throughout the house, it’s simple. Anything you don’t know, ask, and she’ll tell you. Why, heck, if Billy can get her running properly, she’ll tell you before you even ask.” Wendy chuckled, but to Emily’s ear, it sounded false.