Blake Crouch - Confidence Girl - The Letty Dobesh Chronicles

“All right. What’d you pay, Johnny?”

“Two hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars. Here’s to you,” he said.

She didn’t even know how to comprehend such a figure.

“To you, Johnny.”

They clinked glasses.

The champagne was amazing.

“I want to know your passion Selena.”

“My passion?”

“What is it that most excites you in this life? What is your prime mover? Your reason for being here?”

“Prada.”

This got a huge laugh.

“Money can’t buy you happiness, darling. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“But it affords your own brand of misery.”“You’re a lively one, Selena. That’s good. Real good. Let’s sit back and enjoy, shall we?” Fitch said. “This is going to be a night for the senses.”

Letty leaned back in her chair. “That’s the prettiest sunset I’ve ever seen,” she said.

“I’m just glad it didn’t rain.”

Fitch laughed but there was a sadness in it.

All the color went out of the sky.

“Where are you from, Selena?” Fitch asked.

Letty had only had two glasses, but she felt good. Too good. “A little bit of everywhere. I guess I don’t really think of any one place as home.”

Fitch looked over at her. He patted her hand.

“I know this must be a strange deal for you,” he said.

“It’s not.”

“You’re kind to say that, but...” He stared out across the sea. With the sun gone, there were only shades of blue. “I’m just really glad you’re here tonight.”

# # #

They walked toward the house on a sandy path that cut through the heart of the island.

Letty held Fitch’s hand.

“You have a real sweetness about you, Selena,” he said. “Reminds me of my wife.”

“You miss her? No, I’m sorry. That’s not my business.”

“It’s all right. I brought her up. Yeah, I miss her. She left me a year and a half ago.”

“Before your trial.”

“Go through something like this, you find out real quick who your friends are. It’s not always your kin. Only real loyalty I’ve seen is from Manuel and my lawyers. Both of whom I pay. So what does that tell you? Two of my sons won’t speak to me. My youngest only communicates by email. I understand to a point, I guess. I’ve put them through a lot. Do you have children, Selena?”

“I have a son,” Letty said before it even crossed her mind to lie.

“Is he in your life?”

“He’s not.”

Through the underbrush, Letty caught a glimpse of houselights in the distance.

Fitch said, “But is there anything he could do that would make you stop loving him?”

“No.”

“Anything that would make you willingly abandon him?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I suppose our kids don’t love us quite like we love them.”

“I hope that’s not true.”

“I’ve had my fair share of company over to the island. You’re different, Selena.”

“I hope you mean that in a good way.”

Fitch stopped. He turned and faced her and pulled her body into his.

“I mean it in the best way.”

It took her by surprise when he leaned down for a kiss.

Not the kiss itself, but the pang of guilt that ripped through her like a razor-tipped arrow.

8

The house was a large gray box set on foundation piers. It had long eaves and wraparound deck space on the first and second levels. Extensive latticework enclosed the space under the stairs. Letty spotted rafts and plastic sand castle molds. Snorkeling gear. Life jackets. Beach toys that she imagined hadn’t been touched in years.

She and Fitch rinsed the sand off their feet at the bottom of the stairs.

Halfway up, Letty could already smell supper cooking.

As they walked through the door, Fitch called out, “Smells wonderful, Angie!”

Letty followed him into an open living space. Hardwood floors. Exposed timber beams high above. The walls covered in art deco. A giant marlin had been mounted over the fireplace. A live jazz album whispered in the background. There were candles everywhere. The bulbs in the track lighting shone down softer than starlight.

“You have a lovely home, Johnny.”

Letty spotted James and another man walking down a corridor. She and Fitch passed a spiral staircase. They arrived at a granite bar which ran the length of the gourmet kitchen. A stocky woman in a chef coat slid something into a double oven. She wiped her brow off on her sleeve and came over.

“Selena, meet Angie,” Fitch said.

“Hello,” Letty said.

“Angie is head chef at a Michelin-starred restaurant in Paris. I flew her over to prepare something special for tonight. How’s it coming, Angie?”

“I can bring out starters whenever you’re ready.”

Fitch glanced at Letty. “Hungry?”

“Starving.”

“We’re ready,” he said.

“How about wine?”

“Yes, I think we’d like to have some wine. You decanted everything I showed you?”

“They’re in the cellar, ready to go. What would you like to start with?”

“Bring out the nineteen-ninety Petrus, the ‘eighty-two Château Lafite Rothschild, and the ‘forty-seven Latour a Pomerol.”

“Quite a lineup,” Angie said.

“So much good wine to drink, so little time. We’d like to taste everything side by side, so bring six glasses.”

“You aren’t trying to get me drunk, are you?” Letty teased, bumping her shoulder into Fitch’s arm.

“Now why would I need to do that?”

They sat at an intimate table in a corner, surrounded by windows.

In the candlelight, Fitch looked even younger.

Letty dropped her handbag on the floor between her chair and the wall.

Angie brought the wine in three trips, carrying the empty bottle in one hand and a crystal decanter in the other.

All of the Bordeaux was astonishing. With wine like this in the world, Letty didn’t know how she could ever go back to seven dollar bottles of Merlot from the supermarket.

They started with a plate of plain white truffles.

Then foie gras.

Then scallops.

Angie kept bringing more courses. Because Letty was drinking out of three glasses, she had difficulty gauging her intake. She tried to pace herself with small sips, but it was simply the best thing she’d ever tasted.

Over the cheese course, Fitch said, “It occurs to me there will be many evenings to come when I long to return to this meal.”

Letty reached across the table and took hold of his hand.

“Let’s try to stay in the moment, huh?”

“Sound advice.”

“So, Johnny. What is your passion?”

“My passion?”

“For a man who has achieved all the material wants.”

“Experience.” His eyes began to tear. “I want to experience everything.”

Angie came over to the table. “How was everything?”

“I’m speechless,” Fitch said.

He rose out of his seat and embraced the chef. Letty heard him whisper, “I can’t thank you enough for this. You’re an artist, and the memory of this meal will sustain me for years to come.”

“It was my pleasure, Johnny. Dessert will be up in fifteen.”

“We’re done here, and we can handle getting dessert for ourselves. Someone will clean up. You’ve been cooking all day. Why don’t you take off.”

“No, let me finish out the service.”

“Angie.” Fitch took hold of her arm. “I insist. Pete’s waiting in the yacht to take you back.”

For a moment, Letty thought she might resist. Instead, the chef embraced Fitch again, said, “You take care of yourself, Johnny.”

Fitch watched her cross to the front door.

As she opened it, she called out, “Dessert dishes and silverware are on the counter beside the oven! Goodnight, Johnny!”